The season has been very busy in these climes for most of August, somewhat earlier than the calendar announces it.
This delightful show of gold along the verge at the entrance to the complex.
One of the flowers … vaguely funnel-shaped with an extra fold in one of the petals. I picked it up from the ground, so it’s a little battered.
It’s the third tree flowering along that verge, as if they calculated the sequence to put out their blossoms. The first was mauve-pink, then a pink, now this yellow.
From my balcony, it’s possible to hear—if not see—the scraping complaints of young Torresian crows waiting to be fed. I suspect the Carindale crow ‘murder’ calls the trees in in the Carinya grounds their home.
Rita de Heer 