The arrival of spring is usually heralded by warmer days, the appearance of flowers and insects in an otherwise barren setting...
I don't this can really apply to the environment in which I live. So instead I propose another measure:
the arrival of spring is confirmed by the presence of the first flies.
Living in London flies were one of the few things I did not miss. It was bliss to be able to just be out of doors and not accompany every journey, every conversation with the typical hand movements that typify the batting and swatting of flies. Back in Perth I have unfortunately been reminded of the summer of swatting I have to look forward to.
But on to the more glorious elements of the season:
Minuscule feathered flowers and ground-cover grevillias are in bloom cascading down the sandy slope.
Across the length and breadth of the garden the bees are hard at work tasting everything from the basic yellow daisies to the obscurest bulb that arises out of nowhere and dazzles with its weird whimsicality.
The garden is alive with noise at the moment as a pair of fledgling wattlebirds flit around the garden after their parents constantly shrieking 'feed me' 'feed me'. Meanwhile the parents are keeping their chicks so well fed they even have time to argue with the cats over their presence in this exclusive location.
This fluffed up beauty was adorable, though with his beady eyes directed at my cat (no doubt wondering if she could be carried away for a tasty midnight snack), he could have behaved better.
From the front the wisteria is an inviting blaze of colour facading the bland brick wall of the garage, while around the side a double wisteria covers the path dropping scented pompoms on all who dare pass beneath
I don't this can really apply to the environment in which I live. So instead I propose another measure:
the arrival of spring is confirmed by the presence of the first flies.
Living in London flies were one of the few things I did not miss. It was bliss to be able to just be out of doors and not accompany every journey, every conversation with the typical hand movements that typify the batting and swatting of flies. Back in Perth I have unfortunately been reminded of the summer of swatting I have to look forward to.
But on to the more glorious elements of the season:
Minuscule feathered flowers and ground-cover grevillias are in bloom cascading down the sandy slope.
The orange is blossoming (it must be the season for marriage), the sweet blossoms intermingled with the sticky fruits. Of a similar palette, the Californian poppies project their sunny faces towards the heavens, each petal held in place with silken threads defying the desire to capture the warmth and carry it indoors.
Across the length and breadth of the garden the bees are hard at work tasting everything from the basic yellow daisies to the obscurest bulb that arises out of nowhere and dazzles with its weird whimsicality.
The garden is alive with noise at the moment as a pair of fledgling wattlebirds flit around the garden after their parents constantly shrieking 'feed me' 'feed me'. Meanwhile the parents are keeping their chicks so well fed they even have time to argue with the cats over their presence in this exclusive location.
From the front the wisteria is an inviting blaze of colour facading the bland brick wall of the garage, while around the side a double wisteria covers the path dropping scented pompoms on all who dare pass beneath
And it is not just the birds and the bees who are out in force. On the ornamental quince is the obvious food of choice for the furry caterpillars while the orchids are housing a host of baby spiders who hopefully escape the attention of the neighbourhood birds.
The photo of the wisteria makes me homesick!
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