January 21st, 2023Your Say: Shapeshifters
I heard whispers of a trail, in a reserve, on the outskirts of Riddells Creek that I was yet to walk.
It’s an hour-long loop full of undulations and changing scenery.
I have walked it many times since, and came to discover that a change in light, time, or season transforms the place, and it becomes almost new again. Changing along with it, was my idea of what a place can offer to those that know it well.
On my most recent walk along the trail, the new season and high rainfall offered an abundance of changes in the landscape. Below are my observations.
I am sunk down in the understorey, a leafy canopy of peppermint gums (eucalyptus dives) above me. At my feet, between short tufts of poa grass (poa labillardieri), chocolate lilies (arthropodium strictum) reign in their rich purple dress, spear-like and stretching for the sky.
Tree roots bulge throughout the rocky path as I move further inwards and dodge the many anthills that have recently sprung up, which host small and precious civilisations. The path lengthens, before taking a sharp right and heading uphill.
I admire the small and reserved beauty of the bluebells (wahlenbergia stricta) which line the path and bashfully nod their heads at me as I pass.
I have to resist the urge to pick the flowers along the way, as I know they serve a greater purpose here, and are more useful than they would be in a vase upon my desk.
When I climb a small crest that perches me above the creek, the sounds of running water and birdsong wash together and over me. I pass a tree stump that has rotted down into a dark, rich mulch which mycelial threads run through like lightning strikes against a black sky. The nutrients in this organic matter smells as strongly as a perfume, it smells of life and function.
Hardenbergia (hardenbergia violacea) creeps nearby through the understorey, almost anonymous at this time of year without its vibrant flowers. It’s most likely strengthening itself on the plentiful soil that the rotting tree stump has made.
A few yam daisies (microseris sp.) remain, though inconspicuously, with their dandelion-like appearance. Passing them, I contemplate the survival of their species against the forces of grazing livestock with heavy, blundering hooves. This thought makes me tread carefully, an ally of these plants.
I round a corner, and know that I am approaching the end of the track as I start to glimpse a dirt road between the trees. A spray of golden sticky everlastings (xerochrysum viscosum) farewells me as I reach my car.
I drive home reflecting on the walking trail, about how I’ve come to know it so well, and yet, I don’t know it at all. It is a shapeshifter, I decide, and an endless source of wonder because of it.
From: Jojo Beard, Macedon Ranges (& image)
