It is sprinter! That is, a season half-way between winter and spring. Most of the wattle is flowering magnificently, and especially at the margins of roads and tracks. The heart lifts away from …all of that difficult stuff, in the yellow of it all. Here’s a haiku from my book, which I hope makes sense, out of context. It quotes the Paul Kelly song about Vincent Lingiari, who led the walk-off at Wave Hill station in 1966, to protest working conditions for aboriginal people.
“From little things
big things grow”
bright wattle flowers
Acacia ulicifolia, Prickly Moses, is already browning. But the Hardenbergia violacea, Happy wanderer, is the opposite of wattle. It is close to the ground, rambling over everything, and if you didn’t stop and look, you might not fully appreciate its beauty. Is that like the little niggling voice in the heart that urges you to do the right thing?
in violet fists,
I was so glad I listened to it yesterday. And that I wandered happily on Saturday, and saw the vine rambling at the old Cox’s road, near Hartley.
|Convict stonework on Cox's road|