Autumn is coming

For most of my adult life I've been a gardener. I think it was my creative outlet in the years when I kept telling myself I wasn't a writer. The last year or two I've been concentrating on my writing so much, I've neglected my garden. It's as if I couldn't do both at the same time. Now that's changing. I can feel the pull of digging in the earth surge through my blood.

Autumn is a good time for gardening. Even though it's still February which is traditionally the hottest month in Australia, where I live an autumn coolness starts to flow through the morning air. It makes my hands itchy. I want to get out there and pull weeds and plant bulbs. It's still too early for that - I generally don't get my bulbs in until early April. Anzac Day on the 25 April is the very last day I plant bulbs.

Even though I've neglected my garden and we're in the worst drought in recorded history, it still produces wonders.

Like these crab apples that are so big and luscious. I missed getting a lot of them off the tree in time so the birds have had a feast, but the sight of a crimson Rosella, all blue and scarlet perched on a branch feeding is a joy to behold.

I wish I had a picture of that. But I don't so this one will suffice.