After such a wet, cold winter, to walk out of my back door and bask in gentle sunshine, filled my heart with joy and my body with warmth. My fingers were itching to plant and dig, to gather my harvest, or just get down and dirty.
Birdsong filled the air as my feathered friends darted in and out of grevilleas that grow amongst the rock walls tumbling down from my house.
My camera was busy that day, capturing colour.
A day earlier I spotted a bright blue wren, the first of the season to land on my patio—a young male, eager for his first mating season, attacking his image in the glass doors. Unfortunately I couldn’t capture him on camera, but when one appears, I’m ready for the rest.
Each year I watch buds developing on branches of my Philothecas; when they start to open, I know that spring has arrived.
Last year I planted two Hypocalymmas. As a child growing up amongst bush in Floreat Park I used to pick, very carefully,
bunches of this pretty Swan River Myrtle, which I called pink myrtle. Back then (1940s) there was no law against picking wild flowers, but even then I treasured their beauty, took note of their position and returned to admire them each spring. I didn’t think they would survive up here in our rocks and loam, but so far they’re doing well.
I’m fortunate to have a section of natural bush on my property and each year it rewards me with delightful colours and shapes that bloom against a background of rocks and trees. I haven’t seen some of them in garden centres and don’t know the names. Perhaps you can help me?
Lovely photos of your “wild”flowers.