Natural splendour, real musics, wines, wordpower
At 6.20 pm on the last day of March 2024 we were standing beside the western shore of Lake Monger.
The setting sun had just “disappeared”, now hidden by the low slope behind us.
However, in the sky above us, the last of that day’s direct sunbeams were able to reach the underside of the pictured ibis.
It was just beginning its descent.
A few seconds later it joined a rapidly-growing number of roosting “bin chickens”, settling in for the night.
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The very same bird can “look” very different, depending on the observer’s knowledge/ignorance, that observer’s particular preconceptions/prejudices, and the bird’s current activity/stance/position.
And if one is photographing a bird that is both much-loved and widely-loathed, it is easy for a photographer to pander to – or to defy – “negative” or “positive” preconceptions about it.
This little series features one such species.
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If you browse the internet, looking for “mulla mulla”, you soon realise that many Australians mistakenly think that Ptilotus exaltatus is the only such species.
Ptilotus exaltatus – commonly known as “pink mulla mulla” – is likely the best-known; it is notably tall/large, and has probably the widest range, naturally occurring in “poor” soil in not-very-wet places, across much of the Australian continent.
It is, however, far from the only kind of mulla mulla.
Ptilotus exaltatus is not even the only kind of pink mulla mulla.
This post’s pink-tipped hero – Ptilotus manglesii – is more petite, and its blooms are usually ground-huggers.
Arguably, Ptilotus manglesii is even more beautiful than its “exalted” cousin.
Its natural range is within WA’s southwest, only.
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Thysanotus is a genus within the asparagus family.
All but one of its 50 known species are native to Australia.
45 of them occur in Western Australia alone, and most of those exist only in particular parts of WA’s southwest.
They are generally known as “fringe lilies”
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I think that the featured image’s “bee” is a bee, and also a member of one of the bigger of Australia’s many native bee species.
At 2.15 pm on 30 October 2023 the sun had been shining brightly for six hours or more, so it is probably safe to assume that I was photographing a “working bee”.
However, s/he just might have been a late-awakening “sleeping bee”; some native bees shelter inside flowers that “close” overnight, and whenever else there is an absence of bright sunlight and warmth.
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In Perth, 2023’s final full moon rose 80 minutes before the sun set, on December 25.
By 6.15 pm on Christmas Day it was no longer horribly hot, so we decided to stroll down to Lake Monger – “our” local lake.
I took the photo at 7.26 pm, two minutes after sunset.
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This post’s six-legged hero is not a Christmas beetle, and the flower which s/he is targeting (and, thereby, probably pollinating) is one of several related “devils”.
These handicaps notwithstanding, “handsome beetle + star-shaped flower head” yields a “Christmassy” image…however accidentally!
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In the title-song on her 1974 LP, Court and Spark, Joni Mitchell called Los Angeles city of the fallen angels.
In December 2023 “The Terrace” – the unusually long through street in the non-Scottish Perth’s CBD – has a lot of upstanding angels, along with banners that declare Christmas Lives Here.
Needless to say, their presence will be brief.
And – as you can see in the featured image – they are dwarfed by towers, named after the temporal powers that have prevailed here, year round, since the 1960s.
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Until now, every episode in this series has featured a “local” hero.
In most cases, the relevant flowering plant has been (and will be, in the remaining few episodes) one that naturally occurs only in some particular parts of southwest Western Australia.
Today’s exception is an interloper from the Mediterranean basin.
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This post’s photos were all taken on 30 October 2023, when the sun was high in an unclouded West Australian sky.
Each picture looks more-or-less straight down at the harshly-lit ground in so-called “northern Jarrah forest”, circa 60 kilometres southeast of Perth.
Much of this forest/woodland (this bit included) is in reality definitely-not-virgin, mixed forest/woodland, typically co-dominated by jarrah and marri trees, or by wandoo.
Even within a small, walkable area – as is the case here – the apparent “richness” or “poverty” of the forest floor is hugely variable, depending on precisely where one is standing and on what is going on at the particular time, within any particular year.
”Exactly the same place” can appear “utterly unlike itself”, from one time to another.
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