Not so simple Spring

6th September 2021

Spring is the simple season. It says ‘Grow’. It says: breakout, bud and flower, push to the light that lengthens each day, go to the warmth. Don’t mind the reversals to cold weather, keep going. Grow! That frisky feeling, that’s Spring – make the most of it!

Our times are not so simple. We are locked in, so don’t go out, don’t stretch your fingers toward others. And with the warm weather starting so soon in the year, beware of summer, advancing in increments, bearing we do not know what fate. In this particular rotation around the sun, we have learned that what we thought was normal is set about with assumptions we had not noticed until they were upended.

Blackwood in bloom

Still, it’s Spring, and I am amazed. The acacia dealbata is already on the wane, but here beside it is a fine-leafed acacia whose name I don’t know about to burst into flower, golden yellow licking up the plant like a new fire in dry kindling. In the Blackwoods, the big buds of flower are out, a restrained yellow you could say except that the whole of the plant is bursting, every branch, from top to bottom, an excitation of flowers. The Blackwood is an unobtrusive tree of modest stature, but it sure knows how to flower.

This morning, I went looking for Ovens Valley wattle I had seen yesterday in Barrm Birrm. Along one of the lateral tracks then up, here, just here, through this band of Prickly Moses, here they are, wending their way from the damp country above the cemetery, spreading steadily along the slope. Cascades of pale yellow, but, my deep apologies living plant, you are not from here. I must bid you adieu with the short sharp pruning saw that sits on my hip.

A small Ovens Valley Wattle

Deceased Ovens Valley Wattle, and check that monster in the distance behind it

 A few months ago, our Landcare group looked at our term deposit and decided there were better things it could be doing than earning almost no interest. We engaged contractors to poison the exotic wattles in Barrm Birrm, and in a sweep from the northern end, they made it almost to the cemetery. I’m out mopping up the stragglers.

After that, we will hold that line, year by year, each not so simple Spring, walking gently through the bush, eyes alert for the flare of yellow that shows the young seedlings, ready to discourage them …. with a firm tug that bares the roots.  

Easy to pull out when they are small

 Ross Colliver, Riddells Creek Landcare, ross.colliver@bigpond.com