Garden newsflash….baby slow worms

As you may know if you’ve been reading this blog recently, there is news in the garden too. And usually it’s more interesting than the actual news.

Today’s breaking garden news, baby slow worms, curled like bootlaces under some old roof tiles. So small! I see adult slow worms in the garden occasionally, but never baby ones.

Here is one, it’s not a great photo, I was tempted to poke it so it unfurled, but the slow worm would not have liked that, so I didn’t!

Spring in the garden

I plant seeds and tidy the greenhouse

as three slow worms bask peacefully

in the sun.


I love slow worms, and it makes me so happy to know that I share my garden with them. They look like little copper coloured snakes, but are actually legless lizards. One lives in the raspberry bed, one in a hole in the patio and one in the wall near the woodshed. There are probably more, I just haven’t spotted them yet.

Rough edges

My garden,

like much of my life,

a little scruffy,

a little rough around the edges,

beautiful to my eyes

but perhaps not everyone’s

cup of tea.

Today I watched

a queen red-tailed bumblebee

dusted in golden pollen

feasting on a dandelion,

mother of next summer’s bees

sustained by my laziness,

my dislike of weeding.

Perfection may ensnare us

but it is a sterile thing,

there is treasure

to be found

in the wild,

in the untamed,

at the rough edges of life.

An encounter

Yellow-tailed black cockatoos, original painting on silk

I walked, insignificant beneath

giant eucalyptus,

peeling bark hanging in strings,

revealing subtle pinks,

oranges, greys.

Through tree fern gullys, tracery of

fronds filtering the sun,

shady green, dappled.

And everywhere, birds flitted,

colourful, exotic to my eyes.

The parched fallen gum leaves

crackled beneath my feet.

I was almost, but not quite, lost,

weary after hours of walking,

but now heading in the direction

of home.

My head was full of colours and sounds,

the smell of eucalyptus

welcome in my nostrils.

And then, a familiar call,

a stirring in the trees ahead,

the sense of being watched

a glimpse of movement,

and suddenly I was surrounded

by black cockatoos.

I stopped in wonder,

in awe.

I must have spent an hour

watching, camera clicking

while they chatted and pecked

and clambered around the branches.

They knew I was there.

They didn’t care.

I was the one who was

blessed by our meeting.