While we’ve had some warm days this Autumn, which is nothing unusual, there’s no doubt that Winter’s tendrils are slowing creeping upon us. And no where is this more evident than with the deciduous trees that decorate the region and especially those at Mossvale Park. The leaves have rapidly changed colour and fallen away from their hosts, carpeting the land with all the colours of Autumn. I’m not sure if the leaf Diaspora is happening faster or slower this year, but the mass migration from tree to ground is certainly happening apace.
I’ve been writing and photographing quite a lot about Mossvale Park over the last few years and what I’ve written and photographed, I kind of equate to the old adage of ‘Can’t see the forest for the trees’. I’ve been looking more at the detail, rather than the big picture, though generally for valid reasons, so I want to rectify that situation and write about the broader aspects of Mossvale Park, how it came to be and where it’s possibly heading in the future. I also want to cover what makes Mossvale Park so important, not only from a local perspective, but from a national and, in some ways, a global one as well.
While taking our hounds for a run at Mossvale Park over the last few weeks, I’ve been having a closer look at an unfolding story, a budding tale, being revealed by the trees in the park as Spring approaches. It’s the time of year when buds begin to shoot out as the trees emerge from their Winter slumber and the change is very evident. I’ve never really taken that much notice of trees when they start budding, but the variety in Mossvale Park caught my eye and then simply couldn’t be further ignored.
Pun on words again and this is another of my irreverent posts on photography, just because I can. I was going through photographs that I’d taken over a number of weeks this year during Autumn and Winter at Mossvale Park, while taking our hounds for a morning run, and I kind of liked some of the results and explored them in more detail. I often take photographs of things that catch my eye, but don’t always do anything with them immediately and that means photographs can sometimes sit in a folder for quite some time before I revisit them. When I do revisit them, things can coalesce and thus arose this post. It’s all about leaves and the character they bring to the landscape.
I’m really beginning to question much of today’s ethos when it comes to dog ownership. On the one hand, we have all manner of do-gooders telling us that we have a fat epidemic in Australia ie people are obese and so more exercise etc is required (almost mandated) yet, on the otherhand, many opportunities to maintain one’s health are being curtailed. Dog ownership and especially associated outdoor activities such as walking your dogs has long been stated as being a good thing, but try and find a place to take your dogs for a walk or run (other than around the block) and you’ll be hard pressed to find much available. More and more of our public land is becoming verboten territory when it comes to taking your dog for a run or a walk.
Now this post may be of very little interest to many, but it’s something that I’ve always noticed and which always captivates me, and I find it a bit of fun to write about. It’s a feature of nature that we see all the time, but it often just doesn’t register, unless it’s quite dramatic or pointed out. So following on from some earlier articles about trees, there’s an aspect that is unique when it comes to trees and that’s their essential integument, the bark.
I don’t know why, but I’ve always had a fascination for trees, be it because of their shape, size, colour or even oddity; I’ve always liked trees. Some people love flowers and even specific flowers such as roses or orchids and while I can appreciate them, they don’t hold the same feeling that I get when amongst magnificent, or not so magnificent trees. Even dead trees have an aura that no other plant, that I know of, can emulate. When simply a skeleton of its former self, a tree can still stand proud and tell a story. And nothing impresses me more than European trees and their great variety (at least down here in the south). That’s not to say I don’t like natives, but there’s something additional that European trees seem to express, surviving so far from their native homelands.