The last couple of weeks have been hectic, so we decided a walk was in order to give us something calm to reflect on. We had tried the trail to Hanging Rock once before, but turned back when a storm blew up.
This time, although a few gloomy clouds swept overhead, we had generally pleasant if cool weather and reached the end of the trail. Where the hanging rock itself was, we had no clue, but the sheer cliff walls across the valley were spectacular.
From the cliff edge on this clear afternoon we could see all the way to the distant towers of Sydney. There is something disconcerting about standing in the midst of this wilderness and gazing out towards where one fifth of the population of this vast country lives. Michael took time out to sketch.
Naturally, I spent that time investigating the surrounding flora. Tall black flower spikes of grass trees rose through the undergrowth.In my childhood they were called "black boys", but culturally sensitive times have since demanded a more inoffensive name.
Winter brings fuzzy golden flowers on the many wattle species. This is the sunshine wattle, Acacia terminalis.
New growth on some of the eucalypts matched dark red stems to the crescent-shaped, sage-green leaves.