Beyond Blooms there is Beauty
A Travel letter to Tasmania
Today on the Flowerlogue…
A travel letter to Tasmania
This post is a rewrite of a post that I was 5 minutes away from publishing, when a substack technical hitch deleted it. I didn’t want to wait the 2 days for Substack help to maybe find it for me. So apologies this is certainly not my best, far from it. Also it’s a writing style that I’ve never tried before. I hope you enjoy reading nevertheless.
For the best viewing experience, be sure to read this post on your desktop or via the substack app. By the way, all images in this story are taken by me or Hubby G.
Dear Tasmania
We didn’t come for the flowers this time. I knew they’d gone, the dahlias had finished, the lavender long harvested. My usual searches for garden trails and floral festivals turned up little more than silence. Even the aurora forecast offered no spark.
But still, we came. A soft escape from Perth’s lingering heat and domestic stresses, but first a welcome visit to see our daughter settle into her new life in Melbourne.
Then to Tasmania, just the north-west corner, even without blossoms, welcomed us.
Nature’s Quieter Gifts
Along the roadsides, dried teasel stood tall, wild, prickly, and architectural, more compelling than any florist’s wholesale bundle. Bulrushes burst into seed like fireworks of fluff.
Hawthorn hedges, heavy with red berries, gave off far-too-early Christmas vibes.
Rogue wheat, thriving beyond boundary fences, had escaped the harvest and grown freely along the gravel shoulder.
We wandered river trails and glimpsed platypus in the tannin water, playful, shy, completely wild.
The rows of poly tunnels created a driving game. We played what was growing in them? Scores were even.
We cycled Stanley’s beaches, hard-packed sand under our wheels, wind in our faces, history overlooking. Washed up starfish and seashells studded the beach.
Perfect acorns found below old Oak trees, reminded us of history past.
We watched fairy penguins hop over rocks and disappear into coastal scrub nests, making their way home in the moonlight.
The only flower I found was a Banksia marginata.
We licked truffle and white chocolate ice cream, homemade and rich.
We gorged ourselves on raspberries and blackberries, sun-ripened, unwashed, straight from the punnet. There was joy. Then regret.
Finding Texture, Life and Wonder in Unexpected Places
The ocean at ‘The Edge of the World’ spared no mercy. Blustery, salty, unforgiving. No land to be seen for 9,528kms.
We drove the roads less travelled through the Tarkine wilderness, through dense, green cool-temperate forests and fire-scorched hills.
Spent two full days in Corinna with no phone reception, no WiFi. Just each other, the landscape, and the peace and quiet.
Lichen clung to fragile limbs like silver lace. Bright fungi peeked from the moss, nestled among wallaby scats like forest jewels.
At dawn and dusk wombats and pademelons kept our eyes peeled to the roads on the way to Cradle Mountain. Fortunately no hits.
We paddled the quiet Pieman River in a double kayak. We are still married.
I ran my fingers through reindeer moss, alive, not dried or dyed, nor plastic-packed. And I breathed deeply. The air here is said to be the cleanest in the world. I believe it.
We selected the easy trails, the hip’s still not what it should be.
Wombat scats are cubed. Why? Who knows.
Animals in Spotlights and Man Ferns Emerge
One night, an eastern quoll dashed across our headlights, a spotted blur and a shadow. A gift, brief and wild.
Possums and wombats were everywhere, so common here in this World Heritage wilderness.
Our secluded bush chalet was pure bliss. Tassie’s food scene spoiled us,
and honestly, we’ll need a reset when we get home.
And amid the blackened traces of bushfire, we found green, healthy man fern shoots pushing through the ash, tender and determined. A quiet reminder that beauty always returns. Even after burning.
Signed with Love
No, there were no flowers this time. But in their absence, you showed us what else you are made of, textures, surprises, softness, and strength.
We’ve now met in nearly every season, Tasmania. And each time, I leave with more wonder.
Until next time.
The Flower Scout
Where do you escape to?
What gorgeous photos!! Especially that "new growth" one near the end. The contrast is stunning, I'd probably frame that one.
In my province, wildfires every year are inevitable and like yours, it's heartbreaking. But you're right, nature needs to shed its skin to make way for new growth. I just wish it didn't have to be as destructive to animals and humans.
Such stunning photos! Loved reading about your visit!! Glorious!