Sez O'Grady: Just thinking

When I went to Office Works the other day, it was a trip I enjoyed, with my car window down and the perfume of damp earth, Eucalyptus trees and other bush vegetation wafting through. I wanted to jump out of the car and go strolling through the scrub like I used to do when I lived in the outback and then in the farming region. City living is a necessity when one gets old, living close to hospitals, chemists, specialists, doctors and of course shopping precincts. But nostalgia calls all the time to return. It seems I must content myself perhaps to little trips, scribbling my bush poetry taken from my memories and keep busy so I don't get blasted homesick all the time! I would love to be in the Murchison, particularly in the winter and spring, not necessarily the summer thank you when the sun beats down on one's head fare to push me through the baked ground! But to see the willy willy's spring up, swirling around filled with twigs and dirt and anything else it picks up, kangaroos umping away from my intrusion, the leaps causing puffs of dust or an inquisitive emu treading warily towards my stationary person. Until I moved! Here where I live I often get the smell of the jarrah trees wafting down from the hills, and the familiar itch occurs and I have the desire to wander through the Darling Ranges, checking out the plants and dark-trunked jarrah trees, granite rocks and such. Have you ever been bush reader? You don't know what you are missing. I feel for the kids of the city today, who do not have the freedom I have had when growing up and in my married years, where I roamed freely wherever I wished to go. Youngsters today cannot do that, unless it is a controlled visit to the bush. Perhaps I am not making myself easily understood, but as kids we took off into the scrub wherever the fancy took us, never worrying about getting lost or of 'absolute rotters' who may be hiding. Such things never entered our heads. We would roam anywhere and mostly barefoot. I do not recall getting feet full of prickles! Quite often I roamed on my own, amongst the granite rocks up in the Darling Ranges seeking the elusive and precious orchids, donkey, spider, pink lady, blue enamel. They were never picked, but enjoyed. It is wonderful walking through the bush and smelling the rich aroma of the blackboy. In my younger years, damaged blackboy trees were used for lighting fires, within reason of course, as the gum clogged up the chimneys. A delight though, when having picnic or camping out for the aroma of burning blackboy was delightful! Dangling from their writhing positions from shrubs and trees hang the fringed lily to enhance one's view. Underfoot were the yellow bellybuttons, amongst them the mulla mulla's, or pussytails another name for them, the common name.