Monday, October 27, 2008

Morning in Spring...

When I wake and walk out into the main area of the cottage, which has no
internal doors and the walls are filled with bookshelves. I noted as happens
every morning for the last month, Digby's head come out from under the
blanket and cushions on the couch surveying the area round about trying to
locate me. Being a wombat, even though a baby, he relies mostly on his
hearing and sense of smell, and as I get dressed he homes in to the sound of
this or any movements which cause the floor boards to creak. Then runs in the
direction of these movements or noise with obvious joy and expectation of
finding what he suspects, which is me. I play with him in the spare room for
a while, allowing him to attack the cushion supplied for this purpose and
then flop on his back and permit me to scratch not only his tummy, but his
sides and back as well. Then he is up again, running in figure 8 circles and
attacking the cushion, and flops on his back again and so it goes for 20 or
more minutes. But I can't play all morning - he must get out to feed and I
must feed the poultry.

This morning the wind is fierce as it travels along the road at the bottom of
the hill, flaying the trees that line it. Rosella's are scarce, possibly
because of the waving branches, and they leave the seed I have placed for
them on the bird platform lay as it has been put down. The Pekin bantams run
toward me as I broadcast seed for their enjoyment, and Zoe our half grown
poddy lamb comes and feeds with them, picking up individual seed off the
ground.

The wind here today has travelled down from the north, through the dry desert
centre of the continent, picking up and playing with the heat that was
radiated from the sand at the point where it was hottest, where it met the
rays of the sun. This zephyr played for a while, carrying the heat as it
headed south, into the more moist areas and states and to where the land
meets the sea. It moved below the clouds leaving them undisturbed and
gathered strength on it's journey and when it reached the mountains here in
the south eastern corner of the country it was like dragons breath, hot but
sweet from the lands it had explored.

Carrying the crushed maize and the water into the paddock where the goose and
her gosling are in a pen that keeps them both out of harms way which is a
hungry fox, I see there are 20 Australian wood ducks on the almost dry dam
wall. Flitting amongst the apple and Tagasaste trees there are all manner of
wrens and honey eaters taking advantage of the shelter from the hot wind
which becomes tamed as it partly penetrates shield of trees around and in the
dam orchard. It's a dry, but still wonderful spring.