Tulip Tree Budburst

Officially winter ends today. I think winter finished on Aug 6 or 7, that is 46 days or half of 3 months after the winter solstice, but they aren't going to change it because I have differing logic.
Our young and recently planted Tulip tree (Liriodendron) burst its leaf buds 3 days ago. I bought this tree bare rooted to plant in Nobelius Park last winter (2005). It was to replace one that I'd planted a few weeks earlier but was stolen. The stolen one was planted to replace one that was removed because my predecessor, old Gus, had planted it too close to a large liquidamber, and, because its base bark was damaged by buffoons on tractor mowers, it was not worth the huge expense of moving it. Better to start off with a new one, my arbourist said, and plant it away a bit. I put the new one in a large pot temporarily, not the ideal but better than having it too stolen, with a view to plant it in the autumn at leaf drop, by which time the thief may have moved on or fallen under a truck. For those who don't know, I am curator of Nobelius Heritage Park, an honourary position, as a part of the management committee of this council owned land.
In the meantime, a Vegetation Management plan for the park was started and during conversation with the consultant doing the plan I realized we had plenty of tulip trees in the park and there were higher priorities and limited space. With this on board and a heightened awareness of trees, in particular tulip trees which were never previously high on my list of favourites, come the autumn I saw fresh butter yellow tulip trees all over the district.
I was so impressed I planted the tulip tree at home, to replace a 25yo claret ash, the first tree we planted after our house was built. The ash tree never had coloured up well in autumn but gave precious late afternoon shade to the house in summer so it will be missed for a few years until the tulip tree gains some height. Lib wouldn't entertain any notion of removing the ash, but I finally talked her around, explaining the tulip tree is a quick grower and there's a golden ash attaining some height further from the house and in line with the late summer sun, and my arborist friend Steve agreed the claret ash was of poor form and would cause limb dropping problems in the future. Off came it's head and it will be part off next winter's firewood.
With this background, the new tulip tree is special to me and will be nurtured. One of the things I feel very fortunate about is that my life's path has involved me in planting trees. Our farm, which in 1972 was six and a half acres of weeds, a treeless, former potato paddock, is now a productive garden woodland of hundreds of trees and shrubs. Some of the first trees we planted, English oaks and pinoaks, which Meredith grew fom acorns have been removed because of the massive size they attained in 30 years, taking over the garden and resticting other more productive plants. When the garden is your livelihood you have to constantly renovate and refresh. I do the same at home on our acre and a half. And in the 12 acre Nob. Park the same role came my way, not in creating a commercial garden, but to maintain, improve and preserve the park for the future.
Of course I'd never been familiar with tulip trees because the foliage is of no market value, it doesn't 'keep' in the vase, and it doesn't produce edible nuts or fruit. So we have none at the farm. But the new addition at home is there for shade and autumn colour and I'll enjoy seeing its growth each year, as I do with other trees I plant.
My tree book describes the tulip tree well.
"You can hardly grow a more adaptable or less demanding tree, or one that grows faster. In the wild it grows in the Great Smokies and along the Ohio river, but its range reaches fom the Great Lakes to the Gulf of Mexico. Ideally it likes deep loose soil and a wet spring. A seedling with its prayers answered has grown 50 feet in 11 years, but tulip trees will soldier on in polluted air, mutilated by amateur tree surgeons, in disease (they catch few) and drought (provided there is a moist subsoil). They offer an individuality that makes one think of the gingko. There is no other leaf quite this shape. It keeps an even fresh medium green from spring to autumn then changes to a clear light yellow. As for the tulips, which open in May or June (northern hem.) it's a pity they are not often in reach: they are sumptuous flowers, beloved by bees, with pale green petals opening to show a soft orange lining and a noble array of parts."
Something tells me our tulip tree will have it's prayers answered.

Fears/ Pleasure, Failures/ Success

Regularly I meet with a lady friend, Maria, on Friday afternoons. Now before imaginations run wild I add that our liaison is academic, social and completely 'above board'. Maria runs a creative writing class at the local community hall in Emerald, a pleasant deviation from my normal activity when I can get there. She challenges students to think and explore. A couple of weeks ago the challenge was to make a list of things I fear, then write about something I really love and throw in some of my fears. By embracing both emotions the intensity of what you love increases because of its juxtaposition to what you fear.
I did not find this easy. Firstly, it was drilled into me over years and years that I'm not supposed to be afraid. A male upbringing thing maybe. But thinking about it, I have many fears. Here goes. I fear the loss of my physical abilities and senses. I would loathe to be blind, deaf, or para/quadraplegic, or ill in some way as to not enjoy food, or life. And I fear the same on behalf of my loved ones. These are immediate fears about what happens to people everyday by way of car accidents, diseases and illnesses such as cancer, stroke, heart attack etc, or a severe storm causing a tree or limb to hit house, car or body. And I fear other less direct and immediate things, like environmental calamities such as prolonged drought and degradation of land and sea that may affect us in the future.
So, far from being fearless as I once claimed, I'm easily spooked.
Now to something that I love. My family, my morning walk, the dawn chorus, the garden, trees, good food, wine, a hot bath, reading books. They are all there everyday, and everyday the pleasure is more intense when I think how fortunate I am to have them and be thankful that I haven't lost any of it.
The second part of the challenge was to list my failures then write about my successes.
Three failures spring to mind, but I'm sure there are more.
1. I have no tertiary education qualifications, besides an Advanced Certificate in Apiculture. I'm environmentally conscious but may have been more effective if I was a trained and qualified environmental scientist or engineer for example. Mind you there really wasn't much about in that area in my day, not that I recall anyway.
2. When I was a young boy of 6 or 7 I used to play a game in the back yard where I would arrange a table, chair and paper and pencil and say to my mother that I was going to write poetry. It was always the same, fun setting up, then I couldn't think of anything to write. A bat or ball, or both, soon took the place of pen and paper. Nearly 50 years on I still haven't written one verse of poetry.
3. I never learned to play a musical instrument. My parents insisted I learn the piano when I was a boy but I was hopeless I have to admit.
Now to my success.
Every morning on my walk I give thanks that I'm able to do so. Mind and body are reasonably sound and I have learnt much. I have not succumbed to anything chucked at me yet. They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. And I'm learning still. There is still time for good things. Perhaps the best is yet to come.
Maria once loaned me a book, one of many over time, a collection of essays by Australian author Charmian Clift. In one of these Charmian quoted an old Greek man she met at an ancient temple who said one of the most profound things she'd ever heard, " Nothing worth knowing ever happens further away than a day's mule ride." It reminded her of a saying by Confucius, something like, "A good man makes a good family, a good family makes a good neighbour, a good neighbour makes a good village, a good village makes a good state, a good state makes a good country." I delight in a warm greeting or a hearty wave from my neighbours on my morning walk. Success is different things to different people, which probably depends to some degree on a person's individual history. I won't go into mine now, beyond what I already have, but I'm hoping you've got the drift.

Rain!

The red sky shepherds warning of Monday's sunrise was accurate. A strong wind blew up and Tuesday brought showers that were no value above nuisance. But last night it rained and kept up gently all night and into this morning. There was 22 ml in the gauge which was most welcome. I checked the stats in the post office window and in June we had 28ml (118ml is 32 year average) and July we had 87ml (112ml is the average), and we've had very little in August before this 22ml. It's El Ninio, so they are now saying, with very ugly predictions.
Following my last post, Safeway Pakenham did have oysters and Lib's birthday dinner was a success. She loved her presents and said it was the the best birthday she'd had. Good stuff hey! We'll all have to learn how to use the camera, that was part of my thinking, that it would be a family friendly thing and the boys would help us 'oldies' with it.
I'm so tired and looking forward to the weekend.

Rick on Crete

Checking my email at 5.30 am this morning I received news from Rick that he and Mon had explored Crete by motorbike the previous day and the temperature is 35-40C every day and he's not seen one cloud in the sky the whole time. They are now looking for a place to rest for a few days and swim and drink retsina. I had emailed him yesterday informing him that I'd had a bad round in the footy tipping and he is now the new leader, two ahead of me. With only two rounds to go it's not looking good for me and I really do want to win the free lunch at his expense. He is finding internet cafes and accessing his hotmail address back, because that's where I send the progressive scores. Amazing ain't it!

Today is Lib's 50th birthday. I have bought her a Pentax digital camera, some Samsari perfume, hand lotion, and a good supply of toothpicks, amongst other bits and pieces. She hasn't opened her presents yet as the boys left at 6.00am and she at 6.30. We'll have a little present opening ceremony with some champagne this evening. Her 'order' for dinner is carpetbag steak. The fillet steak is no problem but I'm having trouble sourcing a dozen shell oysters on a Tuesday. I rang the supermarket in Emerald that has them sometimes but not today. I'll ring Safeway at Pakenham and I hope they have some.
I asked Jod about the grey thrush and he said yes, that's what it would have been, except it's really a shrike thrush. I said I couldn't recall seeing one around Gembrook before so it must be an uncommon bird but he said no, they are around this area and he sees them at the farm now and again, but they're a shy bird, so are not seen often. He said they lay a white egg with brown and black spots at the fat end which he remembers from his bird egging days in his youth. His memory is almost unbelievable. He went on to say that the speckled thrush which used to be around Mt. Waverley when we were young in the 1960's lays sky blue eggs with similar spots on the fat end. Also called song thrush it is an introduced English bird which makes a similar nest to the native grey shrike thrush but it lines it with mud. He said Song thrush are rare now and were only ever around Melbourne, in the hills, and a few other places like Ballarat and Warragul. He added that I should look after them if I see them because they are almost extinct in England. Wow! What you can learn unexpectedly on any given day, just by looking and talking! I do see the odd song thrush here at Gembrook and I have elevated them to my 'treasured' list of things.

Red Sky and Grey Thrush

At the footy yesterday our team, the Melbourne Demons, had a big win over the Kangaroos after a tardy start. We were 20 points the worse at halftime but ended up winning by 50. 'Flash' Davey and skipper Neitz set it up with scintillating play in the third quarter.
On my morning walk today the sunrise was red (or deep pink) which is the 'shepherd's warning'. We certainly need rain. The charts in the window of the post office show that rainfall for June and July were very much below the 30 year average (I can't recall the exact readings) and I believe Melbourne's water storages are at 47% of capacity with no snow melt runoff likely in the months to come because there is very little snow, so it is serious with the prospect of a long hot summer ahead.
Lately the birds are noisy before I leave the house for my walk. Raucous wattlebirds and the 'whip crack' of the male Eastern whipbird, followed immediately by the answering sharp whistle of the female, draw me hurriedly out to join them in celebration and thanks for the new day. This morning a bird I don't usually see flew up from the gravel in front of me on Quinn Rd, taking refuge in a cotoneaster. It's movement was 'soft' and it was about the size of a blackbird. As I passed I slowed and looked into the tree seeing a superb creature with a grey breast and darker wings and tail. It's eyes were coal black. I assume it was a grey thrush but I'll have to ask Jod about it later.

Jimmy Buffet

Yesterday morning, Saturday, after my morning walk I played a music CD, 'A Pirates Treasure, 20 Jimmy Buffet Gems'. In no time at all I felt laid back and relaxed and at peace with my demons, after 3 weeks of busy busy work and running around with little time for self indulgence. Jimmy Buffet can do this for me, he's a bit like on old mate, I having first enjoyed his songs as a young man more 30 years ago. He's of my generation although about 5 years or so older. His style would not appeal to everybody, in fact many may think he's a Bogan. But there's a humour in his work that comes with the raunchy, irreverent, boozy nature of it. It soothes me. It frees me of guilt from my errant youth, and reminds me that it's OK to let my hair down and be humanly fallible.
When the boys were young they often came with me on days when Lib worked. A couple of days a week I'd do deliveries around Melbourne, foliage and flowers to florists and herbs and flowers to restaurants. I'd play cassette tapes in the van. Gordon liked Jimmy Buffet, and when he was older he'd sometimes buy me a gift for Xmas off the net so a couple of Jimmy Buffet CDs kept me up to speed and last year a book written by Jimmy titled 'A Salty Piece of Land' turned up for my birthday. It was a good read and I laughed and laughed. It's so good to laugh. I've always been too serious, trying to put wrongs right. Jimmy B helps me lighten up and lose some baggage, though I may go 6 months without playing him.
On Friday night Lib and I had dinner with Huiet and Wilma at their house. A pleasant evening with good food and conversation and some games of pool. I hadn't handled a pool cue for many years and Hueit was too good for me. Last night we again had dinner out, this time at John and Raelene's at Avonsleigh, who made the evening a bit of a celebration for Lib's 50th birthday (complete with '50th' balloons and tiara) which is on Tuesday the 22nd. They have recently returned from a few weeks in the south of France staying in holiday cabins in 3 three French villages so the evening had a French flavour with apperatif and wine being French (John bought it at Dan Murphy Berwick) and we watched the modern equivalent of a slide show on the new giant flatscreen via ipod. The meal was good old Aussie beef, ozzo bucco, topped with mashed potato and parsley. Bon appetit! The slide show was followed by some DVD's of live reunion concerts of Roy Orbison and some of the Willbury crew, The Everley Brothers and Simon and Garfuncle. Gord picked us up a little worse for wear and we got home after 2.00am.
Today we're going to the footy in Melbourne and taking Raelene who hasn't been to the AFL for decades. We are leaving soon so I'd better sign off and do some household chores before we go.

Mrs.Cunliffe

Last Monday, August 7, Mrs.Cunliffe died.
That won't mean anything to any reader except Punjab. Jod told me she died the next day, after he'd seen the notice in the obituaries in the Herald Sun. Jod also told me that August 7 was Wayne's bithday. Had Wayne been alive he would have turned 57.
The Cunliffe's lived around the corner from us in Mt.Waverley. There were 3 children. Wayne was the same age as brother Jod, Barbara went through primary school in the same year as me, and Gary was in sister Meredith's year. We were baby boomers in the then outer suburban Mt. Waverley, which teemed with children and youth in the 1950's and 60's.
I don't remember a lot of Mrs. Cunliffe, except that it seemed every other day she would come to our door looking for Wayne. My mother was a working mother in the the 1960's and as many friend's mothers did, Mrs C. frowned on the freedom the neighbourhood kids had at the Williams house. She thought Jod and Wayne and their mates would be getting up to mischief, and she was often right. I remember once there was hell to pay when they'd been identified as the culprits marauding the streets tossing eggs at the front doors of people they didn't like. A step up from knick knock which had become boring.
Often she would send Barbara looking for Wayne with the message that if he wasn't home by such and such a time for his meal it would be given to the dog and he would get a hiding form his father. They must have kept to strict mealtimes at the Cunliffe's, something unknown in the Williams' house.
I remember one day Barbara came to the door, later in those Mt Waverley years, and I answered the knock. She said, "Wayne's been killed in a truck accident." That's all, just like that. She was in a state of high excitement, like shock in reverse. I asked was Joddy alright and she replied she didn't know, all she knew was that Wayne was dead.
Last Friday at the farm, Jod asked me to sign a card of condolence he was sending from our family to Mr. Cunliffe and family. I asked him what year it was that Wayne was killed and he told me with no hesitation, "It was 20th November 1970." Wayne was 21. Jod, Wayne, Ian (Punjab) and Ray McLoed, all mates through Mt Waverley primary school, had joined the Victorian Railways after leaving Syndal tech. and were firemen or trainee drivers. Jod and Wayne, perhaps looking for new adventure, had taken extended annual leave from the railways and made a trip to the Northern Territory for a working holiday. Wayne got work at the Darwin brickworks and Jod teamed up with a buffalo hunter and fisherman, or a "professional poacher" as Jod called him, and went fishing in Arnhemland where you weren't supposed to fish.
After 3 weeks, in which period Jod would have turned 21, they met in the Victoria Hotel in Darwin and had a few beers. Wayne had had enough of working in the heat at the brickworks and said he was getting out of there and going home. He could stand the humidity no longer and there was months of wet season ahead. He wanted Jod to come home with him as they had a chance to get a lift south from the mail truck driver whom they knew. Jod wavered, but at the last minute decided to stay for another trip into the bush for barramundi and the odd crocodile belly skin which sold even then for $3.45 per square inch. Jod's memory for detail never ceases to amaze me, and this despite the consumption of much beer for most of his adult life, which I think was the lure of the fishing trips into the bush, as the 'fisherman' had portable refrigeration. Wayne left in a shitty with Jod for not going back with him, which troubled Jod for many years, but the decision may well have saved his life because the truck left the road near Katherine and rolled on Wayne who was thrown from the cabin.
Jod didn't know this had happened. The police didn't know where to find him. Six days later after returning from the bush he was drinking in a pub when someone recognized him him as the mate of the young bloke who was killed in the recent truck accident. This was an enormous shock for Jod and he returned home straightaway.

I thought about all this on my morning walk today. It was 1 degree celsius when I left the house in a lifting fog at 7.00am. There were cockatoos screeching and magpies warbling as I went up Quinn Rd. The magpies must be close to feeding young so I could well be ducking swoops before long. I picked a bunch of grape hyacinths outside St. Silas church and teased the fenced in dogs that wait for me to pass their place. I hiss at them and do a threatening stance which infuriates them, but I'm sure it makes their day that much brighter, and it's a bit of fun for me and Snowy.
My new glasses are terrific. I can see the heavy budding on the messmate trees. Given stable weather next summer there could be a huge honey flow right here, like there was in 2003/4. And the other eucies are well budded too.
On the return towards home I saw a group of nine galahs sitting on the wires in front of Leo Buckley's house. They looked larger than normal galahs and it made me think so I stopped and looked back at them. They were enjoying the sun after a cold night and had feathers fluffed out to take in the warmth. Then I noticed several more doing the same thing in the top of a liquid amber in Leo's yard. I stood there for a few minutes watching them and many other birds in the top of a tall dead tree further back. They were minahs and mudlarks as well as galahs and possibly starlings, they were too far away to name by sight but when one took off and flew it could be identified by the flight. They were sunbaking, at 8.00am. In the the distance behind the dead tree a jet airliner was clearly visible, it's silvery fuselage catching the bright morning sun and reflecting it back. It was a wonderful morning to gaze about from a good site. (As I stood looking a neighbour, Anne, who also walks, came by. We discussed the basking galahs and I asked her had she ever seen them hanging upside down from the wires in a rainstorm after dry weather to which she replied she hadn't. I told her to watch for it in the warm weather. Funny buggers, galahs.) The twigs and branches of the deciduous trees make a stunning contrast with the bright morning sky. I will enjoy each type of tree bursting into leaf at different times and in different shades of green more than any spring before. I'm lucky to live in a place as scenic and peaceful as Gembrook. We've been here 25 years. In many ways it's a bit odd as far as towns or communities go, which I'll try to expand on another day, but it has much to recommend it.

Lyle Update

I haven't had time to blog for a while, and I don't now really, but I should update my friends on my dad's situation. He's doing well, he's 'stabilised', is what Lib told me is the correct term. Some days he doesn't get out of bed, others he does and watches television in the loungeroom. He moves about on a walking frame but tires quickly. It was a strange feeling that hit me, one day a couple of weeks ago when we had some sunny weather, when I drove into the farm and saw Lyle sitting in the sun on the front porch (it was the same day as my previous blog) in his walking frame that doubles as a chair. He had a blanket over his legs and a beanie on his head and was drinking a mug of tea. He looked geriatric, which he is I suppose, but I had never really thought of him that way until seeing him then, despite the seriousness of his condition. His debilitation suddenly was so stark and real. I had never seen him sitting on the front porch, and wasn't expecting to.
Another day he was going crook at Elvie, complaining that he hadn't slept for weeks since he went into hospital. Elvie calmly told him that wasn't true and that he shouldn't shout or he might have a heart attack, and I said something about the last thing Elvie needs is him shouting at her. When I told Lib this later she said they all get frustrated at not being able to do anything and get angry now and again.
For the most part he's in good spirits and is optimistic that he's improving. Yesterday he went to the urologist (uncle Geoff, Lyle's bro. took him) who said he will be able to help. I'm suspicious because it was after following the urologist's medication last time he became so ill and nearly died.
So we carry on. He's in a seemingly permanent state of of convalescence and all his food and drink has to be carefully monitored. It's difficult for Elv as she has to check on him all the time. He get's very cold and she has to help him with things like putting on his socks. All things considered we are getting on well.
Times up, I've got to fly.