"The place was alive with birdsong. Insects crawled on the ground or flew through the air in iridescent colours. And there were more wildflowers than you have ever seen in your life..."
The forest slowly transitions into spring. Day by day, I see the flowers open up and say hello. Join me (with boisterous wind and cranky birds) as I contemplate the petals of so many bush blossoms.
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"The place was alive with birdsong. Insects crawled on the ground or flew through the air in iridescent colours. And there were more wildflowers than you have ever seen in your life..."
The forest slowly transitions into spring. Day by day, I see the flowers open up and say hello. Join me (with boisterous wind and cranky birds) as I contemplate the petals of so many bush blossoms.
'The southern brown bandicoots have been busy, pressing their snouts into the earth in the search for subterranean mushrooms. This time of year must be their favourites: they root around, sniffing out the fruiting fungi and feasting on it. When I see them, I notice their almost feverish motion; the way they twitch and scratch their way through life. No moss will grow on a bandicoot’s back.'
I'm delving deeper into the world of moss, and everything that might be associated with it. Everything from bandicoots to poets seem to be connected with this simple plant.
In A Train Carriage, Going Nowhere
"The place was alive with birdsong. Insects crawled on the ground or flew through the air in iridescent colours. And there were more wildflowers than you have ever seen in your life..."
The forest slowly transitions into spring. Day by day, I see the flowers open up and say hello. Join me (with boisterous wind and cranky birds) as I contemplate the petals of so many bush blossoms.
