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It has been a year of discovery with layers of interest gradually being revealed as I’ve settled into my Mannum retreat. Let’s start with the earth, where a lovenia forbesi has lain in a bed dense with fellow 15 million year-old sea urchins just waiting for the chance to be dug up by a fossil hunter and once more see the light of day. Tidying up in the garden or digging holes for new plants has brought frequent surprises. Sleepy lizards, all indignant, affronted and mouths agape as they stare up at you in a seemingly serious attempt to be scary: “this place has been empty for a year, how dare you tidy up and remove my hiding hole”. Burrowing frogs emerge from a desirable damp dwelling—all saggy, baggy and brown in their crumpled and oversized coat. Hiding behind rocks, the barking gecko stays still but confidently sports a spotted suit that, with much magnification, reveals itself to be decorated in white pyramids. Who knows for what reason? In winter, the ground was lit up by the pearly pink flowers of the local bluebush, but in spring through summer the productive caper bushes, with their short-lived and delicate passionfruit-like flowers, attempt to out-do the winter bluebush wonder. Close to the ground, blue wrens flit in their incessant search for insects while higher up in the Coolgardie gums a mess of honeyeaters, parrots and as yet unidentified LBJs compete for nectar from the beautiful coral flowers. Out on the water, pelicans and cormorants fish together: often in large numbers and churning the water as the cormorants dive, surface and dive again. And below the surface a mass of unwelcome carp seethe as the dominant biomass, hoovering, slurping and messing with the quality of the water. The largest will often, literally, make their presence felt when your kayak disturbs them in the shallow and still backwaters. The whistle of the whistling kite is a ubiquitous sound as they command the skies above my house, subdued only by the occasional wedge-tailed eagle. Overhanging the decking a large swamp gimlet commands you to marvel at its daily duet with the sun’s rays, which create metallic hues that cycle through silver, copper and finally to gold as the sun dips towards the horizon and closes the performance. When I look from the decking towards the tall, gnarled and hollowed red gums that line the water’s edge, there’s usually some bird perched high up on a sturdy branch: kookaburras, doves, or a pair of Australian Shelducks with their chestnut chest puffed out and aflame in the sun. I’m constantly reminded that while I plan to stay for a while, I’m essentially just passing through. ‘My’ place is the home from birth to passing and beyond for a whole host of critters and plants. I’m mindful to tread with care as I attempt to create my space in this multi-layered and fascinating landscape.