Monthly Archives: August 2016

Hello Possum

Possum sitting in bird feeder

 

Dame Edna may have popularised the greeting ‘Hello Possums’, but in my bed, no thank you.

I grew up in a wonderful family that embraced animals as members of the family and allowed our dogs and cats onto our beds at night. The coolness of a winter night was often measured in cats: a one-cat or two-cat night. Competition was high between the sisters and I can remember waiting until my little sister was asleep to creep in and lift a cat off her bed and into mine. We never rolled onto them, even the new-born kittens survived without being squashed.

A father I know recalls when kissing his young son goodnight, being asked to also kiss his son’s friend and discovering that each night a baby possum had been crawling under the covers and snuggling up to the small boy.  I am amazed that a small possum would sleep next to a child without scratching but I guess it was a nice warm non-threatening environment as long as it din’t mind being squashed occasionally.

They are such voracious feeders and devour my flowering plants regularly.  They are an absolute pest in our garden and I have pulled down the passionfruit vine in defeat and planted a jasmine across my railing in an attempt to deter the hungry mammals from carousing on my deck each night as they munch on their passionfruit cocktails.

In desperation, we have strung wires above the deck railing  to deter them from using our handrail as their footpath. Our barrier would make a European border patrol proud but hasn’t acted as a deterrent.  The possums regarded the high wire as an opportunity to practice their circus act and still manage to leave their horrible stinking trails along the railing.

Colin viewing the world

Alert to the situation

Possums aren’t cuddly although they might look cute when curled up in my bird feeder with their large pink domed ears and matching pink nose. The smaller ring tail possum fights for dominance against the brushtailed possum on our verandah each evening. That is the only place I want to see or hear them.

Fortunately I am married to a man who tolerates our cat sleeping on my side of the bed only because Colin ‘chat bizarre’ has learnt that sleeping on your master’s chest leads to being catapulted violently across the room.

However I am becoming less tolerant because a hot husband snuggled up to my back and a warped cat snuggled up against my tummy raises the temperature in bed to intolerable levels on other than absolutely freezing nights, of which there are few in Brisbane. In fact last night was so warm I opened the windows and the door to the verandah to avoid suffering heat stroke or a night-long hot flush. I was absorbed in reading about beautiful gardens in Australia but slightly unnerved by the bronze snake fountains and decided to roll over and join my sleeping husband.

As I snuggled up against my dozing companion a movement of the bedroom curtains caught my eye and a tug at the blanket that had fallen off the end of the bed. ‘Come on puss’, I said reaching over the end of the bed and came eye to eye with a brushtailed possum climbing up the blanket. We both bounced off the bed with me tripping over the blanket whilst flapping my arms and shooing it out of the room. My intruder didn’t seem to very perturbed; it ambled slowly over to the doorway, turned and looked at me as to say, ‘I’ll be back,’ before it walked the length of the verandah and jumped off into the banana trees. Too late, Colin arrived at the scene, nose up, sniffing possum smells.

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‘Possum, what a quaint endearment,’ said my husband cuddling up to me. ‘No you deaf fool, I was chasing a possum and much use you were in defending my honour as neither you nor the cat came to my rescue.’ Snores and purring were the only response.

Camellias and Chanel



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I have been picking camellias from my garden and naturally, loving fashion remembered that the Camellia is a wonderful link to one of my favourite designers, Coco Chanel who was born on this day, 19 August in 1883. When you look at the pink blossom, you can see why she was attracted to the symmetry and elegant shape of the camellia which became one of her signature symbols. Weaving together seduction, glamour, beauty, and a touch of the exotic.

CamelliaMy garden is in a constant of flux as I debate over how much space can be devoted to flowering plants versus fruit trees and vegetables. I savour every mouthful of home grown lettuce, rocket, tomatoes, oranges and herbs. Yet I also adore being able to place a bunch of home grown flowers in a bowl on the table.Web_white-camelliaIn one perfect corner of my garden this month I have been indulging in a sumptuous display of pink and white camellias. These flowers aren’t easy to display because they have short stems that makes them difficult to stand in vases which if shallow are often too delicate and insubstantial to hold the weight of the flower. I have found the perfect bowl for displaying them: my shallow yellow bowl with the silver rim. It is just the right depth and lets the full blooms lie showing their gorgeous faces to the world.

My three camellia bushes are tucked into a hidden aspect of my garden that gets protection from our harsh strong summer heat and thrive despite the neglect that I am sure they suffer from. Even nicer, I see them through my bedroom window and watch the Minah birds feed on the insects in the flowers each morning from my bathroom windows.Web_Great-Eastern-pink-camellia
The white bush has somehow survived in a small narrow space and is covered in large frilly multi-petalled flowers. Just when I think it has run out of buds more appear to nudge the tired flowers from their stems. In the afternoons when I rummage through the bush collecting the limp, browned flowers to throw on the compost heap I can smell the lightest of perfumes. It is also attracting bees to the garden. 

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A while after the white bush starts run out of buds, the neighbouring camellia with exquisite symmetrical flowers comes into its own with petals a deep glorious Schiaparelli pink. It is such an intense colour I am wondering whether I could use them as a natural plant dye. This could be my next project. ‘Not another project,’ my husband groans, sensing mess and chaos in the kitchen. But the petals seem too pretty to just throw away. Does anyone know if you can use these petals and if so, what colour comes from them?

How wonderful to be reminded every day by flowers, of two of my favourite designers, Schiaparelli and Chanel.  I cannot resist, I am now going through garden catalogues looking for another white to complement the two pink bushes I already have.

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