looking for signs in the natural world
Rain. Soaking the terracotta tiles on the roof, gushing through the downpipes on the side of the house; splashing on the paving in the garden, tickling the leaves of the trees outside my living room window, and creating mini tidal waves as cars pass by my house. Wet feet-making. Garden greening. Cleansing. Life giving.
It’s super wet today. It’s lovely. Not only is my garden thirsty after a dry winter but, I have a cold, and in a stroke of good fortune, I am actually able to rest. At home. Listening to the rain.
This is what it sounds like.
Which reminds me. Even doing this, is spiking my cortisol levels. I’m not resting. I’m doing. So I’m going to resume this tomorrow. BRB.
Hihi. Ok. Time to say what I actually intended to yesterday before I realised that the mere act of writing was preventing me from resting and getting better.
Ahh, spring in Naarm/Melbourne. It’s so unpredictable. And always about this time of year that Melburnians start complaining about how wet and windy it is.
But that’s where the problem lies. You see, we don’t really have spring.
Flash back to 1788. Europeans “arriving”. “Wow, everything is back to front here in the southern hemisphere. Autumn = Spring, Winter = Summer, and so forth”.
I can see it now.
See, most indigenous language groups have their own, very different seasons – as they relate to their particular patch of the globe. Each with very distinct markers in the stars and on the land, which signal to local people what animals can be hunted (and most importantly, which to leave alone, to breed), and which weather patterns are coming.
Kakadu has six seasons. We visited during ‘Wurrkeng’ and were told that the yellow flowers which were so abundant throughout the national park, signalled that it was freshwater crocodile nesting season – so best to keep off the sandy embankments or incur the wrath of a mama freshie (not nearly as terrifying as a saltwater croc, but still).
For the Boonwurrung people (where I live), there are also six seasons. Just north of here, the Woiwurrung people have seven seasons. Not four. All these seasons tell the people who inhabited these places for tens of thousands of years, how to relate to their environment, using the stars and flowers as their guides.
But it’s more than that. These seasons served as the ultimate form of sustainability – making sure plants and animals weren’t harvested or hunted into depletion. Only ever taking what was needed, and never more. If only we did the same nowadays.
We have little family markers for certain times of year – the jacaranda trees flowering and signalling Christmas around the corner; cherry blossom before my daughter’s birthday… It helps us connect with the natural world around us, and also, acknowledge the movement of the seasons. Allowing these seasons to shift something within us too.
What things do you notice in your environment as we move throughout the year? And do you have any indigenous seasonal wisdom to share, from your particular corner of the globe? I’d love to hear from you.
Thanks so much for all the support for my new album, expansion a (south), which went on Bandcamp presale last week. Your messages and support blew me away. Legit.
ICYMI here’s the link. – the full album drops in two weeks, and there’s a listening party the day before. I’d love to see you there.
If you’re not on Bandcamp, the first single karijini (iron. spinifex) is streaming everywhere now. Big love to Alex for spinning it on Pacific Notions last weekend, and to PBS-FM for putting it in their top 10 this week.
I also posted an album preview video last week which for reasons unknown, was being weird and I had to upload again. Here it is again. Snippets of travels from Bordertown, South Australia to Karijini National Park, Western Australia.
Only one sound bath this weekend – Sunday arvo at Slowlane Yoga, Moonee Ponds. Hope to see you there. Meanwhile I’ll be drawing the ‘win a sound bath at your place’ competition on Monday, so keep your eye on your inbox!
x Phoebe
