It's jacaranda time; their blues blend well with the silky oaks' bronze blooms. A joey nibbles on blades of jeweled green. Ah, spring, impossible to ignore, a welcome injection of verve for new life, colours, scents, sounds. The weeds and strangling vines have gone berserk. I have six months' work ahead of me! For days we've endured high temperatures. It's humid, stormy. Yet, in spite of tornadoes, venomous snakes and ticks, I am thrilled to return to this humble home. Sadness has lifted. It is good to be greeted by my dog; no need to stress at sounds of bounding thuds, it's only a passing kangaroo; how wonderful to hear the bamboos rattle and the kookaburras' chorus; see the blue wrens, galahs, the eagles soaring above those rocky peaks. A pacific heron pair has returned to nest, high in the old messmate gum at the bottom of my garden. Today I listened to the chirping of a chick - a white, fluffy “Bart Simpson hairdo” shuffled on top of a carefully constructed stack of sticks. Again, sadly, these parents have the problem of fighting off attacking crows. I guess, like me, they really like this vibrant place, and understand that strength comes through adversity. Without this nature my life is empty.