[written 3/10/10]
This morning I rose at dawn and climbed the hill behind the hut I'm lucky enough to call home at the
moment. The dawn light was glowing red on the range, which dips down to Honeymoon Gap, one of the many punctuation marks in the long caterpillar sentence of the West Macdonnels. The chocolate and honey scents of cassia and mulla mulla mingled as the sky brightened with the decisiveness of a new spring heat.
I've been staying here on the outskirts of Alice Springs for two weeks now, and what a magical time it is to be here. Over 700mm of rain has fallen in the Alice this year, the biggest fall in 50 years I'm told. When we arrived there was water everywhere, in pools by the road on our bus
trip here, in the Todd River running through town, at Simpsons Gap (10km away) and in the normally dry creek the runs past the property here- perfect for sitting in on a hot afternoon.
The creek stopped running a few days ago, and the other pools are slowly shrinking, which makes me glad we caught the bus and got to see them while they lasted. We also caught a delicious week or so of cool nights (actually sleeping IN my sleeping bag!) and got to spend time with lovely friend Libby before she had to head back to Sydney. When I add all that to the thought of fiding 500km into a head wind from Tennant Creek to here, getting the bus feels like the right decision (not that there is ever only one right decision).
Last weekend we (Ryan Libby, Carny, Emma aka Crunch and I) headed west (by car) to explore some other parts of the West Macdonnels. The Ormiston Pound Walk was certainly different to my memory of it 10 years ago, with a dozen rock-hopping creek crossings, and a long swim at the end, but still just as spectacular (or maybe a bit more). We also
walked a section of the Larrapinta, from Glen Helen back to Ormiston.
The spinifex is flowering after the rains, setting the whole landscape a-shimmering. Such a bounty of seed has brought in the birds: budgies in their hundreds, in pulsating flocks, chattering in trees above our heads as we wake- I can't get over how spectacularly beautiful they are in the wild, like a totally different creature to the cage-bound house pet I once considered them; finches everywhere too, including a couple of painted firetails at Ormiston. And the splashes of wildflower colours were daubed across the hills, a thick splash of white everlasting on the rocky range-tops, a background wash of cassia yellows and eremophila purples, and cheery highlights of pink desert roses and lolly-coloured peas.
Back here at Honeymoon Gap, we are still immersed in and in awe of the riches and rhythms of these ancient hills. Sitting on the verandah of the hut (one of 6 houses scattered around the property, and the most simple, tucked away, with two beds, a table and little else) I am visited by zebra finches, hooded robins, white-winged trillers, and black honeyeaters, while I am regaled by the constant song of rufous songlarks, with sporadic input from bellbirds and willy wagtails.
Also many joys of the more human genre. The company of friends old and new. Some good raucous times with a pair of 8 year olds who have taken quite a liking to my ukelele, cuddles with one-month old Nina, and double-yolkers from some happy chooks. I've been loving having a kitchen, churning out sourdough bread (getting better every time!), sauerkraut, yoghurt (made soy yoghurt for the first time yesterday, and it's delicious!), sprouts, cottage cheese, cake. Yum.
Spring is springing and so am I.
