"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.
"Standing on the stump of an old eucalypt, glaring at the yellowy-grey of the forest and the fields, she let out an almighty scream. It echoed through the woods, off towards the new neighbourhoods, running up the avenues and out to the mountains that rose on the horizon."
The Youngtown Regional Reserve is a small patch of bush in the outer suburbs of Launceston. These stories are a personal and ecological study of this modest bit of country. There are tales of ghosts, games, love affairs and magpies. As it happens, so many yarns pass through even a simple little place like this.
The soundtrack is produced in collaboration with my good friend, the ever-creative Yyan Ng.
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.
