Spring 2026

Spring is here, whether you run by the calendar or the Earth rotations or by the local environment changes, it is here. You may have noticed that it was a very short winter here on Ngunawal, Ngambri, Ngarigu country (near Canberra) - the cold setting in late and then the wattles blooming earlier than usual.

The Spring Equinox (which was on 23 September) is one of the momentary balance points of the year, when day and night are of equal length. Like all balance, it is an active practise - balance itself is momentary and it can encourage us to adapt to what is. How are you feeling it this year? What is most alive in you at this very moment?

Blue Caladenia orchid - the flower itself is about the size of a ten cent piece.

For me, it's possibly my favourite time of year, my love of native orchids means that I will get on the ground to peer into their teeny tiny little faces. Trying to take a moment to bask in the sheer beauty that I see in each one. It's this little window between the cold and the heat, when there is usually enough moisture and warmth to allow for good growth of many plants.

This year, that joy, for me is tinged with trepidation - is this the new normal ? Winter coming late, Spring coming early... It's mostly shifting as many climate scientists have been predicting, and for me, that is terrifying, rage inducing, intensely saddening and even hopeless. Many of the other than humans creatures living around here seem to be adapting to what is, but I worry, for how long. How much adaptation are any of us really capable of?

There's a sense of dread growing stronger in me, that we're in it now, those last gritty moments of these hectic systems that us colonisers have imposed upon the planet for a couple hundred years. War, genocide, AI, billionaires, flood, famine, drought, bushfire, the list goes on. How do we, with all of our privileges continue to show up? How do we hospice and outgrow modernity - which are two excellent books by Vanessa Machado de Oliveira. How do we help to rebalance an entire planet that we have chosen to push out of balance? What is even possible, now?

If you're here, and reading this, I imagine you maybe know this feeling too. And I say this, while being in the contradiction - I built my little home myself with many salvaged materials, I also bought a lot from Bunnings rather than wait longer to find it second hand. I live amongst the trees and kookaburras, and that means that I get in a car to do most things. I cook with local foods and right now, I have sardines in my salad too - they've travelled all over this world. I'm using a computer and a phone, full of rare earth materials and admiring the light on the opal ring on my finger, a family heirloom that has been passed to me. We have to live with the contradictions of self everyday. I don't come to you with any solution, mostly because I don't believe that there is just one solution. Or even one solution for each of us - I find the practise is in the constant questioning and adaptation. Trying to do our best, whilst being real with the fact that these systems are built to make the exploitative option, the easy option.

How do we continually find the capacity to feel the truth of where we are ---- in the depths of a dying system that is still clinging to life. How do we continue to show up, and try - whatever that means for you in this moment. How do we not get completely overrun by the rage or sadness or hopelessness and somehow turn a little bit of that energy into something that supports our fellow humans and importantly, everyone else who we share this Earth with... What comes to mind for you?

For me, a piece of this is being with the practise of cultural burning - I've been extremely blessed to be around this for nearly a decade, and many years of continuous learning from the crew of Waluwin Ngurambang. It is hard to find accurate words for how it feels within me. My ancestry is full of colonial settlers, mostly mid 1800s, a very different time. I am moved to tears when I feel into the generosity of people and place to try to teach us white fellas how to care for Country. I find that it forces us to slow down and witness, encourages us to watch and listen to what is needed and where, and take a longer view of time - just to name a few learnings. Importantly, this practise can slowly teach us more about what healthy ecosystems look like where we live, moving past the narrative that we have been taught about a fire prone scrubby Australian bush.

A stick insect moving away from the gentle fire.

I'm hoping that you have practises that help to nourish you and ways to remember that what we do does matter. It matters to those around us, human and non-human kin, including the plants around us and soil life beneath our feet. It matters.

Always was, Always will be. Aboriginal Land. I work, play and live with Ngambri, Ngunawal, Ngarigu, Yuin, Wiradjuri, Gundungurra lands.