Playing Catch-up With Myself: October Arrives With a Whimper

 

October. What can you say about the first half it it? The weather was enough to make you weep, and we stayed closed to home. I was juuust starting to throw off the virus, and hoping to get out, get moving, but what you don't want to do is be halfway well and head out into sheets of freezing rain! 

So we didn't do much of anything for the first couple of weeks. I slogged around the house, walking aimlessly to get the legs moving, lifting embarrassing flea-weights, doing Qigong, when and if my body would allow it; and sometimes it wouldn't. 

Still, by the mid-point of the month we were able to brave the conditions and head south for a blustery afternoon. This, above, is Second Valley. Looks like the dead of winter, but in fact, we were six weeks since the beginning of spring, and I'd started to fret that the summer heat would hit us without warning, with no appreciable spring to speak of. (It sorta, kinda did, but not quite as suddenly or as hard as I'd worried).

The high point of that afternoon was the Singing Honey Eater who came to check out the picnic bags we'd put on the mosaiced concrete table near the jetty. And just to prove it was spring ... the pink version of the Raging Fumitory was in full bloom. The pink one seems to bloom well after the white one ... oh yes, this was spring -- though you wouldn't have known it at the time!

Still, onward and upward. Time to make plans to go somewhere, do something. And what we had in mind was a daytrip over to Yorke Peninsula. Now, BC (Before Covid), we'd have done it over two days and stayed overnight at a nice cabin in a caravan park somewhere on the south tip of the Yorke --

After Covid? Nope. How can you know for sure that the last people staying there weren't riddled with Covid, coughing and sneezing all over the cabin, then vacating it and handing it to you?! You can't. And since we know the virus can live for 72 hours on fabrics, and it's transmitted via touch, Dave and I long ago made the decision to stay out of accommodations until/unless a proper vaccine comes along that cures this thing. I mean CURES it, not just lessens the effect while your brain turns to glue wi8th repeated infections.

So -- the Yorke Peninsula daytrip was on, and planned, and we did it on October 20. This will be the next of my Catching-Up With Myself journal entries, and I'll get into it tomorrow. 

Yes, you could be assured that it was spring, grey skies notwithstanding, because --

I'm going to congratulate myself on this last photo: Yay! I managed to rescue "Fire and Ice," which I'd once thought was so dead, it was due to be transferred to the bin. Let this be a lesson: never give up, not if there's one spark of life left. Fire and Ice is now one of the most beautiful bushes in the garden!

Catching up with myself: mid-late September: The Covid Experience

 

Covid-19 is weird. Don't let anybody tell you it's not, because this thing plays mind games, as well as knocking you flat with symptoms that can oscillate back and forth from a heavy cold to something that feels like full-on pleurisy or pneumonia, inside the same day. One day you think you're getting better; the next, you feel like death is imminent. 

The only thing you can do is play it by ear, take each day as it comes, handle it on its own terms. When you feel bloody awful, take it easy ... when you feel a bit better, try try try to get some exercise and fresh air, because as for getting over this thing in 7 - 14 days and putting it behind you? Ha! That's a lousy joke.

So, as things warmed up, and/or brightened up, while I was in the throes of ploughing through this, I would grab the camera and stagger out into the backyard, where everything was in bloom and the birds, bees and butterflies were a-frolicking among the flowers and plum blossom. This is all you can do: get out there, sit on the bench or on the top step leading down into what Dave calls "the plum pit," sit with the camera on your lap and wait for a bird to come, or for inspiration to strike. 

As it happens, they both came along.

If you miss the garden at this time of year, it's such a loss, because by Christmas it'll be bare, right down to woodchips and sand. Scorched earth. As I write this, it's February 1 (I still have four months to catch up), and almost nothing is blooming, there's just ... woodchips. It's all been weeded, pruned, cut back. The occasional flower here and there is not enough to woo the eye or lure the birds back, so ...

In retrospect, I'm so glad I got these photos. Checking through the archive, I see dates corresponding with the time when I almost headed for the ER on a couple of occasions! Hard to think, this was happening thirty yards away, and outside, while I would be huddled in a blanket, struggling for the next breath, and worrying that those pains in my chest needed professional help. At the same time, one knew what was going on at the hospital -- 

I told Doctor Tim, the GP, the story a few months later, and said how I hadn't wanted to "die in a car park." He didn't pooh-pooh the concept, contradict or admonish. There is is. And at least I got into the fresh air often enough to have something pretty to look back on from these days. Miss them, and you won't see them again for a year --

Playing Catch-up With Myself: September. BC (Before Covid) -- Magnolias in the Rain

 A not-so-perfect winter's day at Mount Lofty Botanic Gardens, very early in September...

Before the pandemic became utterly real and unavoidable for us -- in other words, Dave caught the virus at work, brought it home, and we all got it -- we managed to do a few very nice trips. Each September and October, Mount Lofty Botanic Gardens comes alive with the scores of Magnolias ... but this year I thought we wouldn't get anything, photo-wise, because the weather was horrible. That's too mild a word. The third consecutive La Nina winter was so grey, cold, meh, I came down with a terrible case of SAD even before I had the vaccine that made me so ill, in August. 

(Note to self: I should have blogged all this as it was happening. What's a blog, if not a journal? Dang. Insert eye roll emoji.)

So, when the weather halfway cleared right at the beginning of September, since I was mostly recovered from the vaccination, we thought ... why not? Pack up the cameras and head for the hills. By that time, even Mike was fed up enough of the weather to come along. 

It was actually raining when many of these images were captured. I've learned to carry wads of kitchen paper in the coat pockets, and thoroughly dry the zoom barrel before letting it retract back into the camera -- which keeps the inside of the camera dry and preserves your lens. Duh. You only get caught that way once.

So -- magnolias, rain, cockatoos, a good walk (though I was soooo breathless on the hills: the vaccine had already done a number on me before I got Covid proper). One survives...

Playing Catch-up With Myself: September, BC (Before Covid) ... Cherry Blossom Time

 

To be fair, Covid didn't invade the family home till about September 10th, and before that -- yes, we did get out a couple of times, mostly to Belair, but once or twice -- it was "cherry blossom time," and for several years it's been out pleasure to photography the trees in this locality.

Nothing must happened in those early weeks of September ... the images we captured are so pretty, but they would be the last till October, when we headed for Upper Waterfall, not expecting to find any orchids because it was supposed to be too late in the year ... and wouldn't you know it? The La Nina spring was so late, so wet and chill, the orchids were still ion full bloom. 

That belongs to another post -- my Catch-up for October; for now -- Cherry Blossom Time