Grass stains, cockatoos, silky oaks and flying foxes

Regular readers might remember my post about spring arriving in Brisbane. The golden pendas have now finished flowering, and the silky oaks are in bloom. They are a type of Grevillea and as you can see in the photo above, they grow very tall.

More about that in a later post...

From my view on the treadmill yesterday, I saw that the change of season has brought another regular arrival at this time of year: cricket matches. The boys in their white polo shirts, long white pants and broad brimmed hats are back on the oval opposite the gym.

I knew it was coming. A few weeks ago I walked on the spot while I watched a dad and his two small boys on the cricket pitch. Elder son, about 8, was learning to bowl. His dad patiently demonstrated the action, and Master 8 would have a go, bowling to his younger brother, about 6, who was armed with a cricket bat at the end of the [shortened] pitch, and stood in front of a set of yellow plastic stumps.

A classic Australian image.

Let's just say that the bowler's aim was a little 'off'. Not a problem. Dad would patiently show him how he had gone wrong, and he would have another go. Missed the pitch by a mile. By this stage the batsman was rapidly losing interest, and was swatting at the grass with the end of his bat. He eventually sat down. Dad persevered, bless him. Master 8's action improved slightly, and then he swapped places with his brother, and the session resumed.

Anyway, as I was watching yesterday, the game ended. The two teams of ten year olds did the sportsman-like thing and shook hands with one another, just like they do in test matches. So grown up.

Not for long. One little boy ran across the grass, dropped to his knees and skidded as far as he could. (For the uninitiated, this skill is required for sliding into the boundary to stop a ball before it reaches said boundary, and is counted as four runs. To many overseas readers this will make no sense. Trust me, and read on.)

I suspect, however, that rather than practising an important skill, it was done for the sheer joy of it. One by one, the other boys joined in, and soon there was a group of them doing it, over and over. The mother in me winced for all of the mothers of the boys. The badges of honour- the grass stains- that they wore on their white cricket pants, acquired after the game and not during it, were going to be a bugger to get out in the wash.

So, the cricket season has started, and the silky oaks are in flower. They attract all sorts of birds, and yesterday the cockatoos were having a go and feasting on the nectar.

But when night falls, a different visitor arrives. You probably won't see them, but you'll hear them bickering with one another over the spoils. Flying foxes, sometimes called fruit bats.

They will be loud enough to disturb your sleep, and they can leave an awful mess on your pavers after they have partaken from the flowers and any fruit that is in the area. But, like the cockatoos, the silky oaks, golden pendas and cricket, they are a sign that spring is here.