Had a lovely evening last night with family – drank far too much wine, laughed a great deal, talked and listened and basked in that feeling you get only with special people. Something I miss too often, living in another country.
Margaret and I went birdwatching this morning at Bibra Lake.
A sad sight. People over the years have sunk bores to obtain water for their gardens without any thought for the state of Perth’s wetlands. Some of the urban wetlands remain dry even during the winter rains. There can be no sorrier sight than what we saw today – a long-necked tortoise trudging its way through the mud of the lake to, I would think, certain death (see pix No.3)
Enjoy those silly green lawns, unused, and think of the price that was paid for them.
Some of the Banksias – one of my favourite flowers – were out in bloom.
The birding was good – everything from Splendid Wrens to raptors.
And these plants in the last pix have always to be been a symbol of Australia and home. We used to call them Black Boys (they tend to have a black “trunk”) and never gave a thought to any racial slur. Now political correctness tells us we were in fact denigrating a whole people.
That was news to me, actually. All it ever was, as far as we were concerned, was the name of a plant, as neutral as white-ants, the White-faced Heron and the white cliffs of Dover.
Ok, so here are some Xanthorrhoea, or grass trees.