‘The fight for free space — for wilderness and public space —
must be accompanied by a fight for free time
to spend wandering in that space.’
by Rebecca Solnit
I nipped down to our house in Aldinga for a couple of days recently, and just had time for a quick cycle to the bakery on my bike for fresh ciabatta and then for a brisk walk the following day.
I think cycling is a form of wandering, don’t you?
Cycling home past the supermarket, I noticed that the field of gazanias was out in bloom again.
As I remarked around the same time last year, gazanias are noxious weeds in our parts …
… but they never fail to lift my spirits.
‘The bush flex[ed] its great, porous hide as we moved,
tiny and blissfully unimportant,
between its bristles.’
From ‘Hope Farm‘
by Peggy Frew
I’ve been out and about a lot again recently, on foot and on my bike. The photos in today’s post are from a stroll a few weeks ago, on one of the last days of June, before the winter rains began — finally, belatedly — to fall.
I walked eastwards on this particular walk, through the scrub, towards its edge, where it borders the newest housing developments. Before those houses were built, the land had already been denuded of its natural vegetation: it was farmland for years, and then, when the land was sold off, it grew into bare, grassy paddocks.
Despite the impact that humans have had on that land, still, as I walked over it, I swear I got a hint of Peggy Frew’s great, porous hide beneath my feet …
the beauty of the South Australian bush lies in its understated nature.
It’s not verdant or lush. The trees aren’t tall or spectacular.
It’s all about subtlety —
lines and angles, sun and shadow,
sand and drought and survival …
Peeking between the spikes of a grasstree …
… And every time I wander through the same patch of scrub,
I glimpse a different view.