Purple Panic

Spring has sprung here in Brissie (Brisbane to the uninitiated from outside South-East Queensland) and with it comes the end of year exams at the local universities.  No wonder then that the Jacaranda, now in full bloom, heralds the advent of ‘purple panic’ among those cocooned in our institutes of learning.

It's been a while since I last took time out to appreciate the ‘purple haze’ that accompanies the genus Jacaranda throughout the spring months of October and November.  For this is when we say a hopeful farewell to colder winds, cooler temperatures, the odd wooly jumper and the ‘doona’ on the bed (perhaps better known to some readers as the quilt or duvet) in anticipation of the sticky and humid, often tediously, sometimes tiringly, tropical hot, summer days ahead.  The title photo was taken at Somerset Dam back in November 2015, which is probably the last time I took time out to fully appreciate Mother Gaia's floral display of indigo, blue and purple hues.  And so, having received a subliminal wake-up call while filing away some older photos, I concluded that it was time to focus on nature's way of heralding in the warm weather months and storm season (with her sudden dumps of late afternoon downpours, feisty lightning dances, and accompanying drum rolls of thunder) and to capture, once again, how she dazzles the bystander with her regal robes of purple plentitude, worn, as it seems, as if to warn us all of her regal splendour and her potential to rise to wrath when riled. 

There are many places in and around my adopted home town, where the Jacaranda can be seen at optimal bloom and in plentitude, but, this particular day, I chose to visit New Farm Park, located just beyond the southern edge of Brisbane's CBD (Central Business District) on an impressive bend in the Brisbane River, spread over 15 hectares (37 acres). I foolishly chose a weekend, however, and hence was initially forced to run the gauntlet of Sunday afternoon drivers, all converging at a snail's pace, on the one-way single sealed trackway around the perimeter of the parkland, and all intent on finding that illusive parking space on one or other side of the bitumen.

Car parked, camera primed for action, and mask donned against the possibility of crowds preventing the now intuitive social distancing rule, I set off to satisfy my trigger happy finger, foraging on foot against a backdrop of shady trees, planted rose blooms, lush grass and varied foliage.

And then there's the familiar bandstand, sheltered on the river side of the park by ancient Moreton Bay fig tree guardians and hosts of distinctive spreading Poincianas.  These exotic Poincianas, imports like their Jacaranda cousins, will eventually steal the show when today's purple hue has faded, and Brisbane's parks and street will come alive to a pre-Christmas glow of bright crimson reds and fiery oranges.

In spite of the elevated temperatures (or perhaps because of them) there were hordes of people out and about, all with similar ideas of picnicking, playing sport, walking the dog, or heading for a cooling drink or leisurely late lunch at the Powerhouse Arts Centre's bar and restaurant.

There are many jacaranda trees lining the perimeter of the park, although many of the more mature samples, from the original 100 planted back in 1914, have disappeared, some as a consequence of storm damage, others as a consequence of disease.  These have been replaced with younger members, all competing like young fashion models on the runway.  Yet, every so often, an ageing queen towers above the budding princesses, magnificent in her regal splendour, as if to remind the pimply teenagers beneath her spreading cloak, that this is what they should be aspiring to.

 As I wandered around and beneath the various canopies, I was suddenly reminded of the other species that enjoy this playground. I turned my head to find that the distinctive chirping above me was coming from one of the many rainbow lorikeets that inhabit the area.  As it happens, this particular lorikeet, with its distinctive brightly coloured plumage, was intent on shaking off the unwelcome attention of a strongly territorial Indian myna bird.  These non-indigenous mynas were reportedly first introduced to Oz in 1862, to control caterpillars and other insects in market gardens around Melbourne.  They have spread all over, however, and, like many introduced species, have adapted extremely well to urban environments (much better than originally conceived, no doubt) and are often seen bothering and bullying their endemic or native neighbours.

Then it was time to literally “smell the roses”, which were laid out in various assorted beds, clustered together in hues of familiar and distinctive colour. 

While looking intently at a splendid collection of white roses, I initially failed to notice a group of four bush stone-curlews, hiding within these thorn featured clumps, and doubtless sheltering from the infrequent appearance of the sun through the abundant cloud cover.  These well camouflaged birds, with their distinctive and eerie night cry, are known to freeze when approached, and this was the case that particular Sunday, so much so that I was able to get close enough  to take photos with minimal use of my zoom lens. The first photo below shows (within the red rectangles) where the birds were hiding, and how well camouflaged their plumage is against a background of finely chopped mulch.

I have seen many curlews over the years, and they normally appear willowy tall and motionless when disturbed, but this is the first time I have seen one appear to be resting on it's haunches, as in the last photo above. Perhaps I was the last straw in its busy day of annoying visitors, although these mostly nocturnal creatures, renowned for their calm posture, stubborn stance and almost disinterested gaze, have been known to take flight if persistently interrupted.

Now back to the parklands and the purple show that so many look forward to each year.  ‘Purple panic’ may indeed ensue for the studious scholars who are soon to be cloistered in a concentration of classroom claustrophobia and serious focus, but, for the rest of us enjoying the outdoor freshness, the Jacaranda heralds a particular optimism this year, as we say goodbye to lockdowns, having rolled up our sleeves and answered the call to “Take the Vax”. 

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When not researching the weird or the wonderful, the comical or the cultured, the sinful or the serious, I chase my creative side, the results of which can be seen as selected photographs of my travels on my website at:

http://ken-boddie.squarespace.com

The author of the above, Ken Boddie, besides being a sometime poet and occasional writer, is an enthusiastic photographer, rarely leisure-travelling without his Canon, and loves to interact with other like-minded people with diverse interests.

Ken's three day work week (part time commitment) as a consulting engineer allows him to follow his photography interests, and to plan trips to an ever increasing list of countries and places of scenic beauty and cultural diversity.