In full bloom

Even though it's winter here, there's a kind of uncanny beauty in the bare branches and dropping leaves.

The fire of autumn has all but gone, with just the odd cluster of maple leaves and one sad miniature cherry leaf clinging on, something like the last embers of a blaze.

The crepe myrtle that fascinates me so much with its bright green leaves in summer and its russet-gold combination in autumn, is now a slightly forlorn collation of twigs.  Just beyond it, the star magnolia is doing just that, showing its stuff in distinctive white petals and pink blush furry buds.

Would it be such a feature in spring?  Possibly not.  I wonder if it knows that just as it is fading, the world is stirring, the earth is warming, and sweet peas, cherry blossom and a larger installment of silver princess gum blossom are just waiting to burst forth as the banksia rose froths onto the front fence.

I feel the same about the daphne as I do about the magnolia.  It has such a distinctively icy winter scent that whenever I think about it taking its place in the spring months, I have to discard the thought.  It is a product of colder days, and there it works beautifully.

So this little patch of ours ticks away, and the main colours that keep flourishing arrive with the camellias - cherry blossom pink, skirted candy and white streaks, puffball mauve, and the occasional cupped cream and gold.  The bounty of the camellias means this jug can be filled every couple of days, just as the top heavy blooms collapse with a soft thud, and petals float gently to the carpet.

Before they give way, however, the jug of camellia catches the sunlight, holds the standard high for winter blooms, and even - just faintly - connects me to the far off spring.