It is Saturday morning and another day of winter.
As I open my drapes and look outside, the first thing I see are the six standard roses that stand guard along the front of my home. They look stark and lacking any real depth but as I look closer I can see that small green and red buds have begun to explode all over their thorny stems. This reminds me that they have still not pruned and that new growth is not a great thing to actually see. Note to self: late pruning is better than no pruning, today is the day. At their feet, a sea of pink and white seaside daisies sticking their heads up through their masses of green foliage.
Within the largest of the rose, I can see a garden orb spider that has made its home between the stems. A great winter opportunity, as this area is well known for the mosquitoes that choose to make their homes here in my small pond. The perfection of the web with droplets of rain on it keeps me looking at it for quite a while.
My gaze shifts and I see a dash of yellow. Is it a daffodil? No, just a weed or ten but the flower is a beautifully bright, buttercup yellow and it is almost a shame that it will be removed today. I have no choice, this weed will take over if I give it half a chance.
I scan the rest of my front yard, looking for places that those little yellow weedy flowers are hiding and I see the camellia plant. It is newly planted and still quite spindly but there on the stem is a beautifully formed white flower with the softest pinks kissing its edges. It is nice to see that it likes it’s new home.
Then I hear them. My two resident rainbow lorikeets. I have a large red clay pot saucer that I have turned into a feeder that now hangs from a gum tree. They are sitting quietly and waiting up on the branch above. It always amazes me that they know when Saturday is. I have chosen not to feed them during the week as I do not wish to create a regular food source that could tip the balance in the area. Being Saturday, no doubt the other pairs in the area will wander over for a quick visit once the message gets out that the seed and apples are being served!
They are just so very beautiful and the almost metallic blue of their heads shines through the leaves. I always wonder that with such amazing blues, reds, oranges, yellows and greens how they still manage to merge into the background so very well.
Hang on, they are squawking. I look to the right and I see him, a large sulphur crested cockatoo. Beautifully bright white with a yellow crown. Next to him the galahs are sitting. Such cute little clowns of the bird world with soft pink and grey feathers. I can see they have their last seasons young still with them. So much more grey and much less pink. It won’t be long now before it heads off to find it’s own way in the world.
I wonder what the day will bring? The weather has been less than kind this week, with band after band of rain and the freezing cold winds that accompany them.
As I move my gaze away from all my feathered friends I look behind the gum trees to the sky. A blank, flat and dull grey sky is there. No wind to shift it and a feeling of a frozen moment in time in the sky. At least it is not raining.
I notice that the grevillias, banksias and bottlebrushes in my garden are still there showing their defiance to the dull winters day by parading their red, orange, pink and white all around the garden. Their guardians, the little noisy miners are busily darting from flower to flower. A little bird that has a quiet grey colour with a black head and yellow beak and feet.. and a yellow patch behind the eye. They are never very far away and their call is echoing throughout the yard.
The grass was cut last week and today is showing a beautiful carpet with multiple shades of green due to all the winter weeds that share the ground with the grass. As I look up towards the plants and trees from the grass, there is a crisp and clear separation. It is thanks to the steel blue colours of the magnificent bluestones that make our garden borders.
I take a breath and look at the wet and soggy ground that I will need to walk over. It is time put on my shoes so I can deliver the morning offerings to my feathered friends. It is right at that moment that I am reminded just how lucky I am to have such a wonder place to wake up to each and every morning.
Every day is different in my garden but there is always something amazing happening.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Through the Window.”