21st June 2007

The light softened to dusk and on a backdrop of blue-grey sky sits the green growth of June. A rising wind scatters one-by-one the petals on the climbing hydrangea and they fall to the floor in a spiralling path like soft and delicate white moths fluttering to earth. Above the shelter of the wall the wind takes the tall and upright fronds of the Tasmanian tree fern and scatters them so they become like giant hands strewing the confetti that is the spent blossoms. Yet despite the movement there is no sound only the swift moving sky which ushers in the thunderstorm to come