I saw a bee raping a blossom last week. It was systematically prising open the buds, inserting its probiscus in between the gentle folds and into the pollen. The flower protested not. The bee, like the King of Siam, flew from flower to flower, having its way with them.
Daffodils and bulbs are sprouting out of the lawns. Wildflowers are creeping out from between the rocks.
The wattle has finally come out - full 3 weeks later than in the township 30 km away. Winter didn't want to leave Uamby.
The cockatoos have returned, screeching their greeting and fighting with the galahs for nesting holes in the dead trees.
Apostle birds have taken to squabbling in the tall silky oak in the backyard. They steal the chook's feed.
The chook has taken ownership of the place, sleeping on top of a refrigerator on the back verandah and keeping us company whenever we are pottering in the garden
And up above kites, falcons and eagles patrol the skies... the skies from which no rain falls, only evening.
