Although they grow profusely everywhere you look, there are two regions in Western Australian synonymous with wildflowers at springtime, the South West and the Midwest.
This time in the South West I went looking for flowers in new places. New for me. They were always there. 
I stopped by Minninup Pool, just outside Collie. 
How many shades of yellow can one find? 
I had heard the underside of the blue enamel orchid is beautiful. It is.
In nature, when differences come together, it creates nothing but spectacular beauty. 
A wild orchid.
A bottlebrush waiting to bloom.
I found hundreds of these white and pink lily like flowers in Margaret River.
The flowers were growing on stalks a few feet high.
And these poms of white found a place in wooded areas too.
I’m off again in a few hours, this time to the Midwest. I’m hoping I’m not too late for the flowers there.
Will be back with more to share with you.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
To the novice, this is just rubble. Not me. My heart raced as I walked around. I anticipated seeing some wild orchids, just as the blog had published.
Soon I found the first orchids. 
Tiny bulbs. I had never seen orchid bulbs before.
The donkey orchids bloomed, stained like tortoise shells, in their hundreds.
Among the grass there were spider orchids.
Oh! so graceful in bud!
When blooming, they danced around, ta da ing their way across grass and rubble.
Their heart, exquisite.
Some bloomed in trios, each more graceful than their neighbour, in still posture.
I headed over to the Lookout where there is a steep gradient over granite rock to bush land below. I’ve found white sugar orchids here before, so I went looking. I wasn’t disappointed!
There were some that were stronger in colour. Each detail so perfect in dusk light.
Others, tinted white.
And others, deep in the bush, barely pink.
I’ve criss-crossed the Wheatbelt, a region of some 155,000 sq km. I’ve been further north east and further east of east, than before. The resilience of folks in farming communities is something that strikes me each time I visit. It must be difficult under circumstances where the pastures are green with rain and then 50 kilometres down the down, they are still waiting for it. People think in terms of community. What can they do, to make a difference. They are quick to minimize the role they play, often with a matter of fact, “Well! that’s what one does!”
Then there was the Kimberley region. Beautiful Kimberley, an area that covers some 422,000 sq km of ruggedness. Broome, is a favourite town but there’s a special place in my heart for Kununurra, a place I want to visit again on holiday. I’ve experienced joy in this town in the company of birds and the excitement of spotting my first freshwater crocodile. There are gorges and ruggedness to explore, and when standing still, blue dragonflies to observe.
I’ve visited the Midwest more frequently than I have ever done in previous years. It is larger area than the Kimberley at 472,000 plus square kilometers. The stunning landscape of the Coral Coast is memorable.
The mining region of the Pilbara, in the heart of Western Australia cover over 500,000 square kilometers. It is harsh, hot, and humbling country. Oh! how I love that red dust! Driving across it in summer was a highlight for me.
And who can forget the South West, nearly 24,000 sq km of beautiful food, wine, trails, forests and coastline.
Last but not least, the Goldfields Esperance region, covers over 770,000 sq km. Esperance is where I spend three consecutive nights each month, so naturally, it is my home away from home.
Emus rule here. On wide empty streets, they slow you down. They are the traffic jam. The speed bump. I love them! Once at the local school, I even saw one checking out the children’s backpacks that were left outside class!
The sun rises over water here. And, as is true anywhere in the world, each day is always different.
Did I love the vivid colours of one day or the beautiful serene pewter shine, the next? I really cannot say. Both were equally breathtaking.
I love visiting Pebble Beach. The rocks come from the escarpment on the other side. The sea brings them in, and leaves them polished, and smooth. 
For me, these are the pearls of the sea. They are old. Smooth. Tactile. Melded. You feel the story in one’s hand.
This time I visited Jurabi Point Beach.
Was it worth it?
You bet!
Among the pebbles, knowing they are there, I always search for heart shaped stones. Why does the sea shape them so?
This one is for meditation. When adrift rudderless, at sea, it is a reminder. Like the tide, one always returns to shore.
Driving through the Midwest, I realised, why settle for a bunch of flowers when I can have a paddock. 
I’m always amazed to find pink in tough, mining towns. On reflection, given the volatility of the industry and profession, perhaps it is Nature’s way to symbolize hope. 
Every time I return from a trip, a neglected garden reminds me, it will continue to bloom, with or without my presence. A helpful reminder for ego, so I take notes.
There are no words to describe finding one’s first enamel orchid along a bush track but I’ll try. They look shiny and plastic. The crick in the neck from the double take was worth it! They are breathtakingly beautiful.
Likewise discovering that shaggy bush in Esperance, turns into a gorgeous waterfall acacia came as a surprise like no other one spring.
If one summons enough courage to visit Lesueur National Park early mornings, when there is no one else there but Nature, the drawcard is easy to see.
I found ‘kebabs’ of flowers there, too, so the gnawing hunger pangs make me return again and again.
Pom poms along bush tracks brings out the inner cheerleader, I never knew resided in me.
There’s infinite joy when a small bird allows you to keep it company.
In a still moment, unadorned simplicity, is where Nature does it best.
There’s a certain beauty to waiting before bloom. (I wish I knew this in my youth).
Rice crackers are found on the beach, if you look for them hungrily.
The sand dunes are not an obstruction between me and the ocean.
They are made from tiny shells and quartz. Each piece infinitesimal and exquisite.
A pesky weed is beautiful too.
A snail will climb steadily until it reaches the tree top. It’s all about pace!
Any cut, words or blade, can leave ragged edges.
I’ve found youth (mine!) and wisdom (my children’s!) can co-exist on the same branch of a tree!
Sometimes, you just have to stand still and allow the storm to pass, and it will, if your roots are strong.
I’ve learned the solitary fisherman on the rocks who wets the line at dawn, has done this many times before. He does it for the pleasure, not because he expects a bite.
Likewise the surfer, as he strides out board under arm, to the open sea.
There he’ll sit, with like minded folk, waiting for that set to arrive.
And when it does, he’ll take me with him on that magic carpet ride. 
I found some mornings when the sea is muted, wild dolphins will weave their way through the calm and leave my knees weak with sheer delight of it all.
I’ve found in small mining towns, when there’s not a soul to be seen at midday, even a kangaroo can stop by and crack open a can, to chill with you.
And, if you don’t drink. You can still see double.
In winter, when all else has faded away, a fig is vivid with colour.
A beach is a beach. It does not need a me and a you, to tell a story of romance.
I don’t need to travel to Mallee country. There are times when the ringneck will visit me to check out how I live.
No longer a lead foot. I slow down and enjoy the curves that life throws up at me now and then. I’ve learned those are moments, to see past the obstruction and see the forest, as it is meant to be.
Yes, I found patience. It was always at my feet, in the Here and Now.
I did a double take and zoomed in. I wasn’t alone! My heart pounded in excitement.
I zoomed in as slowly as I could.
And, closer, again.
And again.
The next morning, I headed out to the reserve again. The air was alive with tweets and flapping wings of the larger birds over the lake.
“I leave this by your ear for when you wake,
The footfall of blue dragonflies, on a lily carpet”
I am home now. The rainbow lorikeets are in the tree, screeching. The beautiful sounds of the currawong, echoing. The flapping sounds of big winged birds as they head for the lake, above me. The musical fluted call of the Willie Wagtail, outside my window.
I hear them with my eyes closed.
The big winged raptors in the trees.
The jacana. Oh! what big feet for a delicate, elegant bird!
The white faced heron, silent and poised.
Silvereye are tiny birds. They weigh around 10 grams. To find one feeding, oh! the joy!
I parked my car and walked to them. Soon the flock relaxed in my company. Some sitting on bare branches. This little one, still holding an insect.
One allowed me to inch closer. The puddle, just across from it, proving irresistible.
On the ground, they bunny hop. I caught this one mid-hop.
I’m pretty sure the look of surprise on my face, was just as comical.
Breathe in. Breathe out. My senses now acute.
There is someone having breakfast above me. I move my lens away from the remnants cast aside carelessly.
On the other side, the rhythmic thump on dry leaves tells me there’s a grey kangaroo in there. Somewhere.
I close my eyes. I hear the sea in the Marri tree tops. This, in deep Wheatbelt country.
The tops are crowned with flowers, with some blossoms hanging low, like fruit of the vine.
And, that’s when I saw her. She looked bewildered at my presence.
But not as bewildered as me, to find a shiny bauble in this bush country.
A Shared Space 
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