Australia in The Year of Fire and Plague
Melbourne Winter In Bloom
“The perfect blossom is a rare thing. You could spend your life looking for it and it would not be a wasted life.” – Katsumoto, The Last Samurai
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During isolation and lockdowns, I’ve found myself noticing and appreciating nature more than I usually would. Deprived of the noise and bustle of normal life - traffic, busy social gatherings, and a never-ending to do list - I’m enjoying being in a place of quiet stillness. It’s helped me notice and appreciate the little things, like the way wattle leaves steadily drip with rain after a heavy winter’s downpour, or the different songs of the birds living beside my window and how they talk to each other as dawn breaks.
The philosopher Iris Murdoch said that contemplating nature helps to calm the soul and takes oneself out of one’s self, a concept she called “unselfing”:
Then suddenly I observe a hovering kestrel. In a moment everything is altered. The brooding self with its hurt vanity has disappeared. There is nothing now but kestrel. And when I return to thinking of the other matter it seems less important. And of course this is something which we may also do deliberately: give attention to nature in order to clear our minds of selfish care.
The last few weeks of August in Melbourne are some of my favourite for being in nature. At no other time of the year am I so acutely aware of the changing of seasons as when we rush towards spring. The icy and dark days grow longer and warmer, the mood of the city lifts as we leave winter behind for another year, and the first blush of spring erupts in the streetscapes as flowers come into bloom. In recent weeks, these little moments of colour and joy have been a welcome antidote against the bleakness of lockdown and the pandemic.
Melbourne’s magnolia appears in all its splendour around the first week of August, with their colourful constellations anticipating spring’s arrival. Resembling floating pink and white candles as they unfold precariously on delicate branches, I’ve always loved their waxy texture, and their creamy, full and fresh fragrance. The below photos are from taken from North Melbourne and Kensington in 2018 and 2020 (click to scroll through).
I spotted these white Ornamental Pear blossoms (Pyrus Calleryana) on my run through North Melbourne on a sunny bluebird Saturday in mid-August. I was stunned because the flowers had been nestled safely in their buds only the day before. Evidently the beaming sun and warm weather was enough to coax them out of their winter hibernation. I love the powdery wintry white of the blossoms, and how their stamens (yes, I did Google flower anatomy) are carefully marked with pink pollen.
These Forest Pansy (Cercis Canadensis) photos were taken in my family’s backyard in August 2018. It’s probably my favourite tree, because it changes so completely in each of the four seasons, giving one the impression (or illusion) of having four different trees. In the last few weeks of winter and in spring, the naked branches explode with outrageous, vibrant pink and purple blossoms. The foliage returns shortly after for the late spring and summer, when the tree is filled with deep maroon heart-shaped leaves. In autumn, the heart-leaves become firey, smouldering hues of yellow and orange, before falling off in the winter leaving a haunted and spindly skeleton of a tree. The overall effect is very romantic, and rich in symbolism.
The below photo was taken in late August 2018 just outside the beautiful Mark the Evangelist church in North Melbourne. I was drawn to the way both the polychrome brickwork of the building and the peach blossoms caught the late afternoon light, creating an overall rose-gold palette. With the church in the background, I couldn’t help but think that the blossoms and their wrought branches resembled a crown of blossoms, which would have been more comfortable and visually appealing than their thorny historical counterpart. I think the slightly macabre crown of blossoms complements the Romanesque and Gothic aesthetic of the church building quite nicely.
Peach blossoms in late afternoon light
Congregation of Mark the Evangelist, North Melbourne
August 2018
And finally, the below snap of pink cherry blossoms was taken in August 2019 in a backstreet of Glen Iris, in Melbourne’ south east suburbs. I was taken by the softness of the petals, which looked and felt a bit like crepe paper. The soft, bright pink blossoms are so striking and vibrant against the ashen black branches as they emerge from their deep red buds.
Once the pandemic is over, I hope to travel to Japan to witness the Sakura festival, which celebrates the blooming of cherry blossom trees and welcomes spring. A Japanese concept which is closely linked with cherry blossoms is mono no aware (物の哀れ, もののあはれ), which means “the pathos of things” or “empathy towards things”. It’s that feeling - mostly nice but occasionally overwhelming - of being deeply aware of something beautiful and transient, which evokes a certain sadness about the impermanence of life. In these difficult and uncertain times, I’ve greeted the return of the late August flowers like dependable old friends, and have been filled with hope and joy by their innocent, reassuring presence.
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“It is true, as they say, that the blossoms of spring are all the more precious because they bloom so briefly.” - Murasaki Shikibu, The Tale of Genji
Cherry blossoms in Melbourne
August, 2019
Winnie-the-Pooh in the Time of Coronavirus
The protracted corona-lockdown has seen a lot of us - already riven by various internet addictions - spend increasing amounts of time online. One of the more wholesome things I’ve stumbled upon recently has been the Twitter feed of a devotee of A.A. Milne, the famous author and playwright largely known as the creator of Winnie-the-Pooh. Operating from some unknown corner of the world, the account radiates delightful coronavirus-related content like sunbeams which pierce through the squalid, polluted clouds of Twitter.
The nostalgic, sepia-toned nature of E H Shepard’s illustrations makes for very wholesome viewing on its own; when they are accompanied by A.A. Milne’s quotes - which eerily describe the new norms of a world paralysed by coronavirus - it filters the strangeness of these days through a poetic, dreamlike lens. It would probably serve as a good communicative aide to young children in explaining (novel!) concepts such as social distancing, quarantine, and panic buying or hoarding.
The first tweet which caught my attention was this, which depicted Pooh blissfully ‘doing nothing’, a radical concept which our busy world has had to reacquaint itself with in order to (seemingly paradoxically) save humanity. The image was paired with the following quote:
“What I like doing best is Nothing,” said Christopher Robin. “How do you do Nothing?” asked Pooh. “Well, it’s when people call out at you, ‘What are you going to do, Christopher Robin?’ and you say ‘Oh, nothing,’ and then you go and do it.”
Pooh enjoying social distancing and ‘doing Nothing’ in the woods, The House at Pooh Corner, A.A. Milne
In the next illustration, Pooh seems to be drinking in the sunshine on his state-sanctioned daily exercise, pictured with the below quotes:
The sun was so delightfully warm, and the stone, which had been sitting in it for a long time, was so-warm, too, that Pooh had almost decided to go on being Pooh in the middle of the stream for the rest of the morning
Or perhaps he(?) is meditating on the nature of friendship and social connection in an environment where physical contact is impossible:
Pooh began to wonder how Kanga and Roo and Tigger were getting on, because they all lived together in a different part of the Forest. And he thought, “I haven’t seen Roo for a long time, and if I don’t see him today it will be a still longer time.”
Pooh on an island in the stream, The House at Pooh Corner, A.A. Milne
One of my favourite still and quote combinations depicts Pooh hoarding jars of honey, a scene reminiscent of the panic buying and toilet paper hoarding which erupted across Australia and the world in early March:
“This is serious,” said Pooh. “I must have an Escape.”
So he took his largest pot of honey and escaped with it to a broad branch of his tree, and then he climbed down again and escaped with another pot... until there were ten pots of honey...
Pooh hoarding honey, The World of Winnie the Pooh, A.A. Milne
Below we see Rabbit leaving his warren to look after the young Christopher Robin. This is a fitting metaphor for our health heroes and essential workers (doctors, truckers, grocers, shelf stackers) who head out each day in spite of the health regulations to look after those who depend on them:
He came out of his house and sniffed the warm spring morning as he wondered ... "No, not Kanga's," said Rabbit thoughtfully to himself, as he curled his whiskers ... and trotted off in the other direction, which was the way to Christopher Robin's house. "After all," said Rabbit to himself, "Christopher Robin depends on me.
Rabbit faces the day to help others who depend on him, The House at Pooh Corner, A.A. Milne
We also see everyone’s favourite donkey, Eeyore, rebuke his fellow citizens for not being as enthusiastic about the new public health measures as he is:
Eeyore turned round angrily on the others and said, “Everybody crowds round so in this Forest. There’s no Space. I never saw a more Spreading lot of animals in my life, and all in the wrong places. Can’t you SEE that Christopher Robin wants to be alone? I’m going.”
Not social distancing, The House at Pooh Corner, A.A. Milne
And finally, we see a child enjoying nature with the mindfulness that many of us have started to rediscover, perhaps with the intention to never take simple pleasures and freedoms for granted ‘on the other side’.
And there would I rest, and lie,
My chin in my hands, and gaze
At the dazzle of sand below,
And the green waves curling slow,
And the grey-blue distant haze
Where the sea goes up to the sky...
Contemplating the sublime, The Island, A.A. Milne
Thanks for reading!
Stay safe and stay connected, everyone :)