Much of this winter has been spent at the computer, writing more book talks. It’s cosy inside my cabin, with the slow combustion wood heater going all the time but fully banked down, as once the mud brick walls have heated up, they hold the warmth. No heat transfer at all.
But I am also out and about giving those talks, and was lucky to see this fabulously fiery grand scale sunset as I headed up through the Hunter the other week.
At home, in between deluges and dreary dampness, the Liquid Amber tree continues to hold all the colours of a sunset in its leaves. It glows even on the greyest of days.
I’ve enjoyed seeing that the roo family has been hanging about a lot lately. I took the photo on the right the other day, thinking how pretty the carpet of fallen leaves was.
But on the other side of the tree, in that same carpet, I spotted the red-bellied black snake whom I’d been blithely assuming was safely asleep. It was moving quite briskly too. Not fair! Winter is supposed to be my time of ease of mind when walking about in the bush, let alone the yard.
A visitor to this site had said they can wake up if it gets warm, interrupt their hibernation.
So I want this slight winter warmth to go away, back to really cold for at least another month. And the snake to go back to bed.
5 thoughts on “Winter warmth”
Yes it was you Darian!
I may have said that. I have seen Red-bellies come out during winter for a few hours, if it happens to a really fine, warm day. But none of the others.
Great photos. Good luck with all the talks you are giving this week.
Ross & Lillian
Thanks for visiting! No I don’t worry, am more bemused, as the answer obvious to me. How can they live in a suburb? But as you say, the question gave me a book to write!
I just found your book “The Woman of the Mountain” at my local library – Monbulk, Victoria. I had to chuckle when I read you trying to justify “Why do you live there?” – a question you quite often get asked. I really wouldn’t worry about it if I were you. People ask me that and I only live just outside the metropolitan area of Melbourne, in a ninety year old stressed-out cottage in the middle of farmland. Don’t worry about what anybody says, just get on with how you want to live your life yourself. Still, if you didn’t want to answer the question you wouldn’t have written your book I suppose. I have snakes too, but I don’t see them as often as you do thankgoodness. From Sandi
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