Spring in Technicolor

Early morning twilight. My bedroom tinted grey.  In the distance the faint sound of waves crashing ashore. Palm leaves gently rustling in the morning breeze. The first rays of sunlight quietly peeking through the closed wooden shutters. Good night Canada! Good morning Sydney!

I lie in bed. Still tired yet wide awake. I dread the unavoidable. Bracing myself for what will happen next. What happens every morning at the crack of dawn. Seven days a week. Sunshine or rain.

Sleeping with one eye open, gripping my pillow tight, I wait for it. And there it is. A low, hiccuping chuckle first, lonesome and almost testing. Slowly turning into a loud cackle, to finally end in a crescendo of raucous laughter joined by other fellow birds. 

Welcome to the infamous Kookaburra, laughing in the old gum tree right next to me. One of Australia’s best known sounds, contender for world’s most annoying animals. Every morning at dawn and every night at dusk, it sends its manic laughter-like call across the neighbourhood, letting the world know: “Hey, I’m here! Where are you?”

In bed, you bloody thing, trying to sleep! It’s not even six o’clock! Here they call it The Bushman’s Alarm Clock – who needs a phone when you got your own personal wake up call. It’s way too early, but after all that ruckus the thought of sleep seems impossible. I get up. I can still hear that darn Kookaburra laughing at me.

Spring has sprung in Sydney. What started three weeks ago, on September 1 to be exact, is in full gear. Colour explosion. Brilliant blossoms and blooms. Vibrant shades and curious shapes.

I usually don’t do flowers. Or birds for that matter. But it’s really hard to ignore either one of them in this beautiful part of the world. Some of them more shy and reserved, like the hardy shrubs along the coast with their tiny pink and white flowers, asking shyly for your attention. 

Others throw themselves at you, chase you, force themselves upon you, make you stop and look and shake your head in disbelief.

On my way out the door, bright orange trumpet flowers greet me, heralding the beginning of a new day. I have no idea what they are called – I call them orange trumpet flowers. Who cares?

Actually, I do care a little to my own surprise. A friend gave me this awesome book that categorizes all flowers by colours. Like cars (What car was he driving? – Err, a white one?) I look up the orange flower: Trumpet Flower (aka Clivia) it’s called. No shit, who would have thought! Told ya!

On my way to the bus stop, the morning sky from slowly rising sun  (the Kookaburra very quiet now – probably went back to bed, that bloody bastard), I get greeted by an impressive display of Australia’s flowers. Almost makes me miss my bus. While other early risers are getting their first coffee (I guess The Bushman’s Alarm Clock woke them up as well), I randomly stop in the middle of the sidewalk and stare at what grows on the side of the road.

 ‘Ah, the Canadian!’, they probably think, ‘admiring nature! They probably don’t have any flowers in the snow-covered world she comes from!’ –  We do, but not like this! Flowers on steroids! Spring in technicolour!

The bright red Bottle Brush hanging from the trees, offering a lone Rainbow Lorikeet some breakfast. I am so excited to see that bird, I later told the kids at school. They were not very impressed: “ A lorikeet? I have two living in my backyard – they are called Billy and Bob!” I guess you are used to having awesome parrots around when you have already given them names.

Or  the crazy Bird of Paradise Flower with its bright orange and blue bloom, which always reminds me of Beaker from the Muppet Show.

 A tree in someone’s front yard sprouting poinsettias I only know from Christmas markets back home. It’s only three month ‘til Christmas. Maybe I should bring some home.

At the roundabout, a gigantic totem pole like thing called a Giant Lily (again, could have told you so) pointing it’s blood red rosette towards the sky.

All over Australia, there are Aboriginal Dreaming stories linking people to plants. One local story tells us about the creation of this beautiful red bloom: A tribe was trapped in a cave after a landslide. One warrior survived, although badly injured. He went back and forth, helping the others make it. His injuries were so bad, though, that he slowly died. And as he did, so the legend of the Giant Lily, his blood seeped into the plant, causing the flower to turn red. 

Next, the Old Man Banksia with its shaggy look – I will not even attempt an explanation of its name, but I get it! 

And finally, shortly before I reach the bus stopn,  another trumpet shaped flower, yellow this time with brown stripes. Good thing I did not touch it in awe – after some research, it turns out The Golden Cup is poisonous! 

Australia is a land of extremes! Colours so vibrant, shapes so unique. And pretty much anything will kill you! Even the pretty flowers!

It’s the last day of school before our well deserved Spring break and I’m off for two weeks. Looking at the first signs of Australia’s technicolour spring, I’m almost sad to miss it. Kookaburra and all. But only just! I’m off to the Shire and I sure hope that bloody bird doesn’t find me there! Hooroo!