I live in an apartment, so I don’t think much of grass. It’s just the green background to my busy life but as soon as I visit the countryside strange thoughts consume my mind.

Grasses have a very simple way of life. They just stand there drawing energy from the Sun enjoying a symbiotic relationship with the natural soil environment which teems with bacteria, fungus and earthworms.

I part the grass to see what’s beneath and lay my fingers upon a dusty heart. Thrusting up through the soil are countless blades that break into waves of greenness that spill across the paddocks. I can clearly hear the whisper of grow, grow, grow.

As autumn draws to an end the bureau says a couple of snow-bearing cold fronts are on the cards. As a natural response to protect its crowns from which grass blades grow the grass will become dormant. This death like state turns the grass a sleep-tinted gold which will last until it becomes green again in spring.




It’s the beginning of autumn and the leaves of the Golden Elm in Crookwell are turning yellow. The eye-catching display is very impressive. By next spring, new growth will see the tree turn to a pale lime-green.



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Grey-headed flying-fox (Pteropus poliocephalus) | Photo: ©Shane Ruming

Due to the level of my fishing skill I have almost single-handedly saved several fish species from extinction. Having achieved this unheralded environmental success I’ve decide to direct my attention to a land based vulnerable species; Pteropus poliocephalus. Yes the Grey-headed flying-fox.

I agree they are noisy, smelly and messy but they have such cute faces. All they are trying to do is communicate with each other, especially between mother and baby.

I chose to care about grey-headed flying-fox because they are an Australian native species and are one of the best natural pollinators and seed disperses we have. They are also part of the food chain especially for owls and that’s important for the overall health of our environment.

So with my camera, torch, insect repellent and closed shoes this Saturday I’ll be attending a “Bat Awareness Evening” at the 2nd Gordon Scout Hall, 32C Rosedale Rd, Gordon (behind the grassy knoll, opposite Glenview St, north side of Rosedale Rd bridge).

Just after dusk I will view the fly-out…………there’ll be thousands of them heading off in search of food. Looking forward to a great night.



I really enjoy these ‘real life’ photos of flies doing things that make them happy in summer. I just wish they would leave me alone.



Hunting and gathering is an ancestral thing in my family and as a result, I myself, have long been a contemporary hunter gatherer, fisherman, supermarket shopper and agricultural producer. I rely heavily on this foraging activity and trips to the supermarket  to maintain my independent existence.

Way up on the balcony of my 2nd floor apartment I have become self-sufficient. It’s not a big deal this growing of strawberries because on the world scale, Australia is the 28th largest strawberry producer by volume, with the USA, Spain and Japan being the top three .

There are nearly 600 producers of strawberries in Australia and I’m the smallest of those.

But as you can see I rank very high in production efficiency, producing at least 11 strawberries off one plant, in one small tub, on one small table, on one small deck, in a suburb with a population of 1660 which does not even exceed its post code number, which is 2219.

Surely a highpoint for any above ground apartment gardener is eating your own berries, the ones you have nurtured yourself, they just taste sweeter. I love their herbaceousness, their ground-hugging habits and of course who can walk past their simple five-petalled blooms.

If only ice cream grew in the garden then I’d have the perfect present in a pot plant.


They say they have been worn to the summit of Mount Kosciuszko, they say they have wandered around the backyards of Sydney and the Great Outback.

I say the Volley International which features the 3 stripe woven tape around the heel, the side quarter panels which secure the tongue, and the new look injection molded rubber sole will walk me around the world.

My friends say “Don’t do it, get a pair of boots.” But I know the evil twins, International and All-Black, will get me there and back again.

You can see them here pondering over a map of the South of France and the Italian Riviera planning their trip to Cinque Terre.

From Nice to Tuscany: from the Cannes Film Festival to the Monaco Grand Prix and then to the five small coastal villages of Riomaggiore, Manarola, Corniglia, Vernazza, Monterosso.

The DVs, these miracle walking shoes constructed of cotton canvas with a thermoplastic rubber sole are going to have the time of their life.