When living in Canada, my favourite time of year was autumn. I loved the changing colours of the leaves and what drifted away from the parent tree in the fall. The smell of burning leaves as chill took over the air is an evocative memory that lingers, as does the shiver as one tried to dig deeper into warmth.
When the Northern Hemisphere prepares for autumn, we in the Southern Hemisphere, look forward to spring.
When new life begins.
And young ones are nurtured.
When one finds colour erupting in unexpected places.
And even succulents on beach sand bloom in the warmth.
A time when the mulla mulla appear in their hundreds of thousands across the arid mining country, with mauve spears tipped in pink.
Or one finds a florist shop, roadside on an empty highway, that gave me pause to think.
Unlike nature, what grows unchecked, is not always beautiful.
This, to me, is an unsettling thought.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
A clump of cowslip orchids, found unexpectedly, in debris.
Manna acacia blooming below a canopy of gum trees.
A spider orchid, dancer like, posturing mid-furl.
An emu in the wild, caught mid-stride, long neck perfectly curled.
The tiny inland thorn bill with yolk egg feathers, singing for mate, in spring.
A Willy Wagtail, with bling in her wing.
Sunset in an autumn leaf.
Pink ballerina tutus in shrubs, just below the trees.
Ballgowns draped on shrubs, more beautiful than found on any red carpet.
A trio of pristine white cornettes.
A gift from and for the sea, left on shore by someone unknown. But it spoke to, and, for me.
There is just a cyclone fence that separates the tarmac from the airport. I’ve been on flights where the co-pilot stepped out and helped unload the luggage. Everyone here is, “mate”. Give me this over luxury any day!
This is the arrival lounge. It is quite possible there was a water bottle dispenser nearby, and some toilets, but that was it.
Arrival/Departure lounge. That’s it!
I arrived in Monkey Mia with a travelling companion on a perfect, picture postcard day.
I noticed the speaker kept one hand in pocket and the other held a tiny microphone as she explained the history, ending with a firm warning, no touching the dolphins. As she started her spiel, the dolphins raced in from the open sea.
They lined up for feeding! Yes, queued up!
What do they make of us! Look at the ‘knowingness’ in that eye!
The feeding is strictly minimal, more like a small snack.
And, when excited hands miss their mark, the dolphin scans the sandy floor, with one eye wide open, the other shut.
I watched one get away and slip under the jetty. It swam out to the space between the crowds and a small pier. Then I saw a little girl break away too from her family to watch the lone dolphin. The dolphin swam back and forth in the small space, while the audience of one watched on bemused.
But this moment, between girl and dolphin, certainly made me smile.
Who doesn’t love a roaring, orange campfire burning in a ten gallon drum, like one I experienced at a cattle station in the Kimberley. Just add billy tea, cowboys and music, and I’m in a happy place again.
A blazing sunset at Cable Beach, Broome. One of my favourite beaches to visit.
The orange sands of Cemetery Beach, in Port Hedland, where we waited for turtles hatchlings, patiently. Yes, the beach is across from the town’s cemetery!
The beautiful ranges in the far north Kimberley that erupt from the ground. The light play is stunning at sunset or dawn.
The delicate wings of a dragonfly, etched in gold and orange.
The silent full moon that creeps up at night, unexpectedly.
The soft sage like eyes of an emu.
A lantern at dusk, that signals, this is home.
I walked along the shore early morning in Exmouth. I was the only one on the beach. I usually like it that way. Every few steps, I stopped and watched the sea trying to figure out whether the tide was coming in or going out.
I stood mesmerised by the grace of movement of this powerful ocean before me as it whooshed at my feet so elegantly.
Leaving behind a bounty of coral, shells and smooth pebbles.
Where the waves crashed, I found a sea urchin unexpectedly. 
And another left behind by the sea on the damp sand,
adjacent to seagull tracks.
Further up, there was another, still beautiful with spikes, left behind by time.
And even more beautiful, ‘de-spiked’.
Some with a hint of lavender.
Others buried in sand.
An artefact of the ocean, on land.
Dimpled.
Flaky.
Frilled.
Undressed.
Stripped.
Striped.
Painted.
Peeled.
Bejewelled.
Even he knows the value of human touch.
The donkey orchid is prolific. This was was crusted with frost.
The shy cowslips that bloom in shady places.
To find a clump of them is special.
The clubbed spider orchid looks like a marionette.
The hooded jug orchids are beautiful in their own special way.
The tiny, tiny pink fairy orchid is in a class of its own.
Fifty kilometers from town, I noticed the sun was setting to my left and a huge moon rose from behind a grove of trees on my right. Startled by the silent luminosity, I had to stop to take a picture. The presence of it in the sky calmed my spirit. There was benevolence in the light. The only motorist on the road, I slowed down, no longer alone in poor weather.
Next morning I walked around the reserve. I’m usually alone here so I claim this as mine each time I visit! Winter has left it lush with bright yellow daubes of acacia everywhere.
A closer look at the spikes of flowers is worth the moment of quiet.
I stood in a ‘forest’ of banksia. These ones are quite different to anything I’ve seen elsewhere.
They are a beautiful tumeric colour with the tip, dipped in white. A ‘ta da’ moment comes to mind!
I’ve learned to look at my footsteps. No longer afraid of snakes (although I’m still snake aware), I’ve learnt to read the footprints of others. Parrots! So I look up.
This must have been a young one trying his best to make ‘parrot calls’, and not quite getting there. Yet!
The clumps of hibbertia are everywhere. They are bright in debris that gathers at the base of the gum trees.
I love this hakea that grows like giant kebabs with flowers blooming intermittently between spiky, sharp leaves.
Sometimes when fragile, we all need something strong and steady to lean on.
Even flowers unfurl in the faintest sunlight, so be generous with yours.
We all bloom at different times.
Simplicity is best.
A Shared Space 
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