on some of these early dark mornings mist shrouds the forest in a thick silver grey blanket of moisture.
Slung between branches and grasses are hundreds of webs, some as small as my hand, others bigger than a dinner plate and some shaped like baskets.Dewdrops hang poised on the gossamer threads and flash rainbows when captured by a sunbeam.
this can only be the Realm of the Mist Spiders.
under the wild cherry tree sits a black swamp wallaby having a bit of a scratch. A tiny head pops out from the pouch and looks around. Mother wallaby leans over and clips a blade of grass to chew. Baby leans further out and tumbles head first onto the ground. It jumps up eyes bright with mischief takes a flying tackle onto Mum and sprawls back onto the ground .
a bit of a scratch, twitch then a swivel of the ears, a nibble at the grass and then dives head first back into it‘s snuggy warm pocket.