Collective noun
I awake, each morning, to a shudder, of anxieties.
gardens
Stay safe, my friends
Don’t give me a home among the gum trees when it is bushfire season.
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Cockatoo dreaming
To White Cockatoos, Black Cockatoos must seem the stuff of nightmares. To Black Cockatoos, White Cockatoos must seem the ghosts of ancestors.
Lighter than air
The magpies in my garden love a windy day – it takes them up up and back, turns their games into three dimensional chess, makes them sing with happiness when they land on the gate, a difficult landing, in the wind, performed perfectly. But I can’t fly and I hate wind. Still, I am happy
Dust to dust
A harsh westerly wind blows outside my window. Reminding me that, wherever you are in Australia the desert is never far away. The dust from the centre brought by winds from north, south east and west, permeates our garden, house, enters our lungs, becomes part of us in the way stardust from distant explosions becomes
And don’t come back
Some days it can almost be a full time job, carefully removing spiders, insects, centipedes, and the occasional small lizard from the house they have somehow entered and then been unable to escape, like tiny burglars trapped by a deadlock.
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Window on wind
A windy day blows birds into the garden to swoop, glide and play, then blows them out again.
Wheels within wheels
Strangely comforting to see small birds hunting big eagles instead of the other way round
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