Wednesday, March 31, 2010


No, not Equinoxe, that's the memorable Jean-Michel Jarre album. I mean that time of year, the Equinox.

(By the way, if you didn't know that Lou Reed and Laurie Anderson were running this year's Vivid Festival in Sydney, you do now.)

It's actually a week and a bit after the Equinox, when day and night lengths cross on the graph, that time of year when the rate of change is greatest. It is my favorite time of year by far, the days shortening quickly, longer nights, widening day and night temperatures. I like change. I took its name.

There's a mouse in the house. And as I hadn't heard a Bower Bird for some time I went back to check on a well hidden bower discovered a few weeks ago, between a row of Banksias and a clump of Grevilleas, only to find it abandoned, collapsed, with the remains of his blue lures lying retired among the scatter of its fallen arch. (No idea where the chocolate wrapping paper came from.)

The Yellow Breasted Robins are back, perched sideways above the ground, peering down as usual, waiting for food in the grass. Disturb the soil, weeding or poking around, and they are there in seconds. And the Yellow Tailed Black Cockatoos have become regulars again, creaking like rusty doors as they scoop through the late afternoon looking for last year's Banksia cones, now gone to seed.

A Black Cockatoo for each day's rain. There's been some good rain, light but soaking, cleansing, and the warm pleasure of the steady tinkle from the roof into the gutters whenever you stir during the night . This little Triffid-like creature appeared today. Up close it has John Wyndham writ large...

.... but wandering by, it is an easily missed little lolly red daub in the grasses near a stone wall.

1 comment:

Jarrett said...

Beautiful. I find myself wondering how different this story would have been, say, four years ago, in the thick of the drought.