Yesterday it was winter again; today is back to spring. How the plants adapt is amazing. Delicate new shoots appear on the branches of the brunfelsia, the leaves fully developed within days, only to be burned by a sudden icy westerly blowing in from the sea. Back to square one. The plant sulks for a few days, then starts all over again, gathering sap from its roots, pushing it up towards the sunlight in another attempt to sprout its new season's leaves and flowers in an endless cycle conceived by nature to ensure the survival of life. Success this time, and we walk through a curtain of fragrance as we climb the stairs to the front door.
A juvenile black sparrowhawk has just fledged - it landed in the old gum tree today. White fluffy feathers still clung to its breast, with patches of new black feathers showing like a cummerbund across its middle, and the flecked orangey feathers which are the mark of a juvenile evident on the head and neck. But the wings are smooth and black, ready for him to explore his exciting new world. He must have hatched while winter was upon us - perhaps his parents were confused by a brief warm spell. It's good to see that he has survived the harshest winter in years.
When I looked again, the bird had flown, but a short while later one of the parent birds alighted on the branch. I suppose she was keeping a hawk-eye on her offspring, or showing him where to find the fattest doves.
I'll be looking out for him.
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