Walking in the forest on a crisp, cold morning after a heavy frost is like strolling through nature’s jewellery store. The sun, low in the sky, turns simple dew drops into glittering diamonds.
Even those stems bereft of foliage held onto the occasional glistening droplet.
I was like a child in a sweet shop, I couldn’t get enough of this amazing beauty.
The gems would disappear as the sun climbed, but for now I was content to experience another of nature’s treats.
Through the cold, damp haze of August, the first promise of spring starts to appear across the landscape. The expanse of green in the forest turns a lovely shade of yellow as the wattle trees flower. With over 1,000 species of Acacia worldwide, around 950 are native to Australia. We mainly have two species on our property, both are endemic to eastern Australia. Acacia melanoxylon grows to 40 metres in Tasmania, twice the height if its mainland siblings, and can live over 100 years. The Tasmanian blackwood is a beautiful tree and we are surrounded by them.
The timber, with its variable colours and grains, is sought after for furniture making. The Aborigines used a hot infusion of roasted bark to bathe rheumatic joints. The same potion was used to stun fish to make them easier to catch. The creamy yellow flowers have a fluffy appearance and grow in clusters.
Our morning walks with Poppy look quite different when the wattles are flowering.
Acacia verticillata is my favourite. Prickly Moses doesn’t actually have thorns but the small, flattened leaf stalks are prickly.
The flowers are quite different to the blackwood, a brighter yellow and cylindrical in shape.
The dense, prickly foliage offers a safe home for little critters like bandicoots and birds.
I have seen Acacia mucronata, or Narrow-leaved wattle, in the conservation area adjoining our property. It has creamy yellow cylindrical flowers and, not surprisingly, narrow leaves.
I’ve often wondered why Acacias are called wattles. Apparently, it comes from the term, “wattle & daub”, a technique used by the early British settlers for building their huts. The branches were used to make the framework which were then daubed with mud (and perhaps a few cow pats). The Acacias were used mostly and so, they became known as wattles.
After a day of indulging in the digestible delights of the Margaret River region, it was time to walk off some of the damage. Boranup Karri Forest was the perfect destination. It is possible to drive through the forest but calories are not burned that way. We parked the car
and choosing a walking track,
we were soon surrounded by towering Karri trees.
The Karri is a eucalypt, native to south western Australia, with a light coloured trunk that turns brown before it is shed.
The leaves are dark green on top and lighter underneath, hence the botanical name Eucalyptus diversicolor. The third tallest tree species in the world, mature trees branch only from the top third of the trunk.
At ground level, there were cosy homes for the wildlife
and a few early wildflowers added colour to the forest.
It’s hard to believe these magnificent trees are little more than 100 years old. The area was extensively logged between 1884 and 1913, the long, straight timber widely used in the building industry.
Hopefully, these trees will be left in the forest for future generations to enjoy.
Poppy is usually accompanied on her walks by Michael but he has fallen victim to a nasty virus and so, Poppy has been taking me instead. We have been exploring the different paths and finding all sorts of interesting things. The morning mist as we start the River Walk is breathtaking
and the forest is serene.
Despite the lingering cold and wet, the spring flowers are trying their best.
I haven’t been along Spooky Path for a while. Soon after we moved here, I was walking this path with Poppy and was unnerved by the thumping sounds around me. Memories of the movie, ‘Predator’, whipped my nerves into a frenzy along with my imagination. Hence, Spooky Path was named. Where the path becomes swallowed by scrub, the valley drops out of sight to the Blythe River below and the ridge opposite seems so close.
Poppy found some special newcomers in the forest.
They grew very quickly and soon flew the nest.
Down in the rainforest, the water is tumbling along in the stream
and the manferns are lush with new growth.
On a damp morning
we walked Pat’s Path, named for my sister who first discovered the path when she came for a holiday soon after we moved here.
The views of the rainforest are stunning from this higher ground.
After a while, the path disappears into the trees and we have to retrace our steps.
You never know who you might meet on the way back home.
Of course, Poppy is always ready to do one more path.
My favourite walk with Poppy is one we call the river walk. The Blythe Conservation Area meets our property at the eastern boundary. Across the paddock and through a gate, we join a walking track. A short distance along, I look to my right and am awestruck at the realisation we live in our own patch of Tasmanian wilderness.
The view across the valley changes with the seasons.
Now and then there is a little surprise
and the forest embraces from all sides as the track continues.
Nature’s debris has its own beauty
and the trees reach for the sky.
About a kilometre into the forest, the track descends steeply to the Blythe River,
a serene spot for a few hours of fishing.
The light reflects the natural tannins in the water.
The best time of day to walk the river track is early morning, the rising sun glistening through the trees is spectacular.
Just another day in paradise.
