Category: General

My mouth has been in pain all week, so much so that I – a loather and normal refuser of painkillers – have consented to dulling my sensory receptors so I can eat. I’ve been out of sorts and feverish: it must be a good weekend to play in the garden and with the dogs, have a break from driving and go running in the Launceston Gorge instead of walking.

We pulled and tugged at weeds; I tilled the soil with my trident and combed it with my fingers so I could feel its texture and have proper skin-soil contact. I searched for worms and found too few, said “hello” to myriad narcissus shoots searching for the sky, delighted in the sight and smell of roses that have survived the recent heavy frosts, and spread huge mounds of leaves I’d raked onto the garden beds to help enrich the soil whilst keeping weeds at bay: earthy, elemental jobs that keep me in touch with nature and the fabric of life. I also mulched with branches we’d chipped – fallen or pruned from our trees – and with manure gathered from Harriet, Hilda and Sir Galahad’s contributions: we give our scraps to them, they scratch some and eat some and give us eggs and manure in return that we give to the plants to make new veggies, the scraps of which return to the chooks. Round and round goes the cycle of life.

Toddler Gussy participates in the cycle of life while Elin, our Swedish visitor, gathers manure from the chook pen. (Photo taken November last year)

Gus marches an egg to the house

And we ran in the gorge – the beautiful Launceston Gorge with its emerald waters – past the bridge that, in the right weather, perfectly reflects the rocks that frame it. These rocks are always interesting, blotched with patches of lichen in browns, creams, olives and rusts, and often topped with rich green mosses, oozing life and zest. Ducks and swans cruise around here. In summer, we even see seals playing or sun baking.

As you run higher, the river narrows and becomes a series of white ribbons of light, cascading over the taupe grey rocks, the water funnelled and directed by the shape of the rocks in its path. Eventually, if you run even higher, you reach an open area called ‘The Basin” – where rocks and bush form an amphitheatre around a luxurious expanse of water, where we all used to gather on warm evenings or hot weekends to swim in a natural setting, light shafting in between the rocky towers. Teenagers jumped off dolerite columns; we all rode logs of driftwood like horses, trying to balance on them; there was an atmosphere of community health and enjoyment … and then our council sold its soul to profit, failed to control the big business that should deal properly with our sewerage, and now no one swims in those polluted waters except uninformed tourists who must wonder why they swim alone.

My favourite tree, a linden.

After the Basin, the path swings away, continuing upstream. In fact, one can choose from a variety of paths, but my favourite pursues a course that has the stream down below me to my right, but still audible and visible at all times. I run until I reach a second suspension bridge, higher up, and then have a variety of tracks to choose from that bring me back to the Basin a different way, through appealing place names like Dead Man’s Knoll or Snake Gully Head, possibly intended to keep tourists in the nice safe manicured section, out of harm.

Last week, the gorge was in autumnal mood, all misty moisty and glistening. Here are some photos of that – I returned at lunchtime with my camera to record it.