My wild place

When I suggested that I might build a little tin house in the subtropical rainforest of south-east Queensland, I was advised by well-meaning folk that this probably wasn’t a very good idea. The forest would close in over the house; mildew and algae would grow on everything including me; the sun would not get above the surrounding scarps on the eastern side till mid-morning, only to plummet out of sight behind the scarps on the western side halfway through the afternoon — not that I’d notice, being penned in perpetual gloom under the forest canopy. All true. And no one to talk to but spiders and snakes.

There are certainly many spiders. I do talk to them, shout at them, actually, because when I do they flinch and try to run away. Unfortunately in their panic they too often end up running straight at me. There are so many snakes that kookaburras bring their fledglings to the garden for predation training.