Autumn Garden

First off – Simon took these photos; photography and the love of it has re-entered his life, so if you see any fantastic photos on any of my social media you can rest assured HE took them.  BUT…and it’s a big but (they’re the best kind) quite often the photos of his that I feature only came to happen because I said:  “that tree outside is so beautiful, you should take a photo of it” or “Could you help me with the ducks for a minute – oh, and why don’t you bring your camera?”.

Simon is an inside kind of guy…a gadget guy, an Apple man.  Not that he doesn’t appreciate the outdoors or where we live – he totally does, and he gets the shock of his life when he gets outside and notices there’s been a season change, he is simply wired differently to me.

So with our tree turning ruby – autumn came.  And then a week later, winter came.  No joke.  Frosts so hard and white even the She-oaks on the fence line were white.  And as a result, I had to pick the rogue pumpkins.

Can you believe Simon was genuinely confused when I asked him to photograph this?  When I look at this picture, or indeed the real thing (which still sits on the front verandah on my favorite chair enjoying the sun) I feel comforted and prepared, happy and (somewhat) fulfilled.  We won’t starve.  When he looks at it he sees dirt, cobwebs and a future of wrist aching pumpkin chopping ‘cos that’s the man job around here.

I’ve just picked one more hidden pumpkin, revealed by a frost melted rogue tomato bush – and now I have a large black plastic tree pot full of a rainbow of tomatoes – the last of the season, so now I’m practically giggling.  And did you know that the duck egg season picks up when the hens laying dies down?  It’s true.  So I have duck eggs, tomatoes and pumpkins.  I am absolutely beside myself.

Now, what on earth am I going to do with them all?

Autumn Afternoon

There is something about the light in Spring and Autumn that makes an old rooster feel all excitable me feel nostalgic.  For what, I don’t exactly know.

 

Something in the distance, perhaps.

The fog..

 

 

In 5 months we will have been here for 3 years. It has flown and yet I feel as though I am just starting to become familiar with the place. Having always envied the abilities of older people to predict and forecast weather from bird behaviour or plants about the place, I’m finally putting a little store of information away for this place. For example, I know that if the wind is coming from the west side of the house and if clouds come quickly from that direction also then we are going to have mother of a storm that night. If it is dead still outside but the treetops across the road are flicking about, then I have about 8 minutes to get the clothes off the line before all the undies parachute over the fence. If the chickens are all trying to stand on each others heads and look meaningfully at the kitchen window, then it means the frost is particularly heavy and I need to pour some boiling water over the scraps and get it out there quick smart!

The other morning we had a thick fog – like pea soup (mmmmmpea soup) and as I was trudging about feeding the animals I heard an animal cry that would not have been out of place in Jurassic Park. It quickened my pulse immediately, not because of the sense of a lost world in the fog about to trample me, but I knew straight away what it was. They came a year ago, early June, with a great cry that seemed to bounce about the hills here and when I finally saw them I could not take my eyes off them. Big black cockatoos, three times the size (at least) of white cockatoos. Flying in the sky they look about the size of the wedge tail eagles we used to see in Alice Springs. They are magnificent and they congregate in the trees across the road from us in this cold weather emerging on mass and shrieking as they make forays out for water or to socialise. Going by last year, they will disappear before the end of winter, but hopefully next year I will remember to expect them and look for them instead of jumping at their prehistoric screech in the foggy morning and spilling the chooks hot porridge on my boots.

 These guys should be nervous….very nervous.