Instalment 4 Sunday 10 April 2011

I continued my night time feeding plan and discovered that getting up through the night wasn't really too bad, but I knew deep down I was probably kidding myself and I would pay sometime down the track.

This morning proved to be my first challenge of this whole new experience of keeping a possum. I was rostered on in the Resource Centre at church and had to be there by 8:15am. I had to time Tamigotchi's feeding so that he would not be left longer than the four hourly feed routine. I fed him at 7:30am, tucked him in his pouch, strapped him inside my bra and wallah...off we went. I decided to take him with me to church to keep him safe and warm. He would be able to hear my heartbeat. And, if he was with me I knew he would be safe and I wouldn't fret.

I arrived on time and set up everything that needed doing, ready for our first customers. Tim was visiting from Hillsong Sydney and he popped in to see how things were doing in our Resource Centre. He chatted away to me as we tried to help each other out with some further setting up, meanwhile the whole time little Tamigotchi slept on, unknown to anyone. He was my little secret.

Luckily for me, he slept very well and snuggled in tight. I potentially could have received a few curious glances if there was massive movement down there. But for my immediate self esteem, I just hoped it didn't look like I had a third boob down there. I didn't get any strange stares from customers, that I noticed anyway, so I think my secret was safe.

Church was very busy and when it was time to go into the service I found my friend who I normally sit with and squeezed in beside her during praise and worship. When it came time to greet each other, I whispered to my friend, as a joke, that I'd had a boob job and asked her what she thought. I was seriously met with a very surprised face and I burst out laughing.

I asked her, "Seriously? You have known me for how long? And you seriously think I'd be the type to go in for a boob job?"

She giggled once she knew I was joking, but the surprised look on her face returned when I whispered what I did have in there.

I've never really thought about how loud praise and worship music is until that morning. Everyone was seriously in the moment and all I could think about was Tamigotchi's little tiny ears and hoped that he was not traumatised.

Tamigotchi survived his first visit to church, as did I. No one knew, except for my friend. He happily ate after we arrived home.

This little guy has lots of attitude though. He bites me when he wants to let me know he's annoyed with me. He certainly lets me know exactly what he wants me to do, or not to do.
His attitude is a good thing. It shows me he has spirit. He has survived to date and I'm sure this has a lot to do with his will, or spirit.

Instalment 3 Saturday 9 April 2011

Ian has named the little guy, Tamigotchi. He says the possum reminds him of the Tamigotchi toys the kids were all into a few years back. They were a form of virtual pet and I guess that pretty much sums up the relationship we will build with Tamigotchi. He can never be a pet. But, for now, he can be our virtual pet...with a very real feeding routine, and broken sleep for me. It reminds me of when I would get up to feed my own babies. You just do it because you need to do it. No different for baby possums at all.

Tamigotchi continues to eat well and I feel confident now that when I hand him over to a Wildlife Carer, the hard work is already done. They'll just need to continue the routine because he certainly knows how to eat.

He now weighs 61 grams, so he is definitely putting on weight, which is a good sign. He bit me again because I am awkward when it comes to handling him. He is all legs, arms and tail. His tail is quite strong as well and everything gets all tangled up. I don't think he appreciates me trying to weigh him.

Well today is definitely decision day. I owe it to Tamigotchi to make some serious decisions. He is settled, eating well, sleeping well and going to the toilet fine, so I am content that everything is going to plan, short term.

Now I have to do something with the long term plan and find someone that I trust to do right by him. It's his best interests that still lie in my heart.

I found various websites with basic information, but the one called BARN really stuck out for me. The information on their site was really useful and written in a way that was clear and easy to understand. BARN is located at Rocklea, an area not really all that far away from Willow Pond. They also had a phone number, so I decided that because these people really seemed to know what they were talking about, I would call them.

I got all psyched up to call, but when I finally did, it was a wrong number. You can imagine my disappointment. This pushed me into a corner. I would have to call the vets. I was still reluctant to call the vets because they are always so busy and I would not get to talk with a carer. I would have to surrender him and leave his fate in someone else's hands. I felt a bit sick to the stomach. He would have to wait on his own and it is always noisy at the vets with barking dogs, etc. I didn't want him to get stressed out like that. It was making me stressed just thinking about it.

But, I did it. Finally. The vets confirmed for me that I would need a permit if I was considering the option of caring for Tamigotchi. Otherwise I could take him in to them and surrender him. The other option was that I could bring him in for a vet to look at him and pay for the service as if he was a pet of mine.

I asked them if they could organise for me to speak with a wildlife carer. I explained that what I was hoping for was the opportunity to have a wildlife carer mentor who could help me raise Tamigotchi so that he could be released back onto Willow Pond. The receptionist went a way for a moment and when she returned she told me they would have to call me back.

I waited for quite some time for the vet to phone back. My head was still going at a hundred mile an hour and then I remembered a previous conversation I'd had with my friend Jill, who lives in my neighbourhood. She mentioned there was a bird sanctuary or something like that on a road behind her property. I phoned Jill to ask her if she knew the phone number of these people; wildlife people would be great a networking and I felt that if I could talk to these bird sanctuary people, they might know someone. Jill was on her way out to get Thai for lunch and told me she would phone her friend when she got home. Jill did not know the bird people personally, but her friend did.

So, I waited.

While I waited the phone rang. It was the vets phoning to apologise for taking so long, but they were unable to organise a carer to speak with me, but they did give me a phone number for a Redland Bay area wildlife group. I thanked them for their help and decided to wait now until I heard back from Jill.

Finally she called. The reason she took so long was because she is not just a friend who says  she will help, she gets in and gets her hands dirty. Instead of just ringing me back with a phone number, she found out from her friend where the bird people lived and drove around to see them. She met them and explained my situation. When she phoned me, she handed the phone to a lady called Nat who wanted to speak with me and she asked me lots of questions and then explained the tough job of raising baby ringtail possums. The road apparently is fraught with dangers and things that can go wrong. She spoke to me for quite some time and then she told me the name of a wildlife carer in my local area. This carer only lived two roads over from me. Jill popped back on the phone and said she was going to drive around, pick me up and take me to Gillian's place.

I got Tamigotchi all packed up and organised. I took him around to all the family to say goodbye and whilst I was a little sad, I felt that it was for the best. I had managed, with the help of a friend, to find a carer close to Willow Pond and it made me feel much more comfortable about handing him over.

Jill arrived and we loaded up and drove over to Gillian's house. Gillian is a softly spoken lady who is very calm around animals and wildlife. She is close to my age. Her home is full to brimming with dogs, birds, baby joey wallabies that are in care. She works full time as a wildlife carer and also runs a dog sitting business, a dog grooming business and makes homemade soaps and teats which she sells at the Chandler Markets. She is such an interesting lady. I immediately felt very comfortable with her. Her husband Warren busily worked outside keeping the property up to scratch with whipper snipping and mowing and it is obvious he is a great support to Gillian.

We spent quite some time together. She listened to my story about Tamigotchi and asked me lots of questions. I was a little disappointed to learn that she had only just passed along three baby possums to another carer within the last couple of days. I knew it was very important for Tamigotchi to have mates as ringtails need company and community. Brushtails don't mind being on their own, but ringtails are very social.

I told Gillian all I had learnt off the Internet about possums over the past couple of days and I think I must have impressed her a little, because then the darnedest thing happened. Gillian said to me, "If you join BARN for $15, I will be your mentor."

I was blown away that out of all the websites I had viewed, it was BARN's website that I took the most notice of and now here was Gillian telling me that if I joined BARN she would mentor me. I really felt it was one of those 'do-do-do-do' moments.

So it seemed I had found a mentor after all. I was now going to get the opportunity to have a go at raising Tamigotchi myself, under the watchful eye of Gillian. She told me she would network with others to find another ringtail to raise with Tamigotchi.

Gillian spent more time talking to me about the process of soft release, which is what we would be leading up to for Tamigotchi. She weighed him and had a good look over him. On her scales he weighed 57 grams, but my scales had read 59 grams and then 61 grams. Anyway, it didn't really matter too much. Gillian taught me how to work out a proper feeding regime so that Tamigotchi would eat between ten and twenty percent of his weight and he would now be on four hourly feeds which would be great for me, especially through the night. She also got him to do a wee so she could check that he was okay in that department.

Gillian kindly put together all the things I would need to take care of the little guy. She gave me some handmade fleecy pouches, syringes for feeding, I bought some proper milk product from her called Divetelact, a couple of her handmade teats, some large safety pins and an information pack - more necessary reading. She also gave me a little plastic cage for when he got a little bigger.

His feeding regime would be 3 mls every 4 hours.

Jill patiently waited while all this was being worked out, then we loaded up and drove home. I had Tamigotchi in his little pouch stuck down the front of my bra. This kept him warm and secure, listening to my heart beat. The things us Possum mums have to do.

When we arrived home I invited Jill in for a drink, which she accepted. The family were all a little surprised when I arrived home with Tamigotchi, but somehow I don't think they were all that surprised. I updated the family on the process of raising little Tamigotchi.

It is not always an easy road raising ringtails and apparently there are many diseases and problems that can crop up out of the blue and cause death. Hearing and reading about all these problems makes me extremely nervous. But what can I do? The only thing I can do is to give it my best shot.


It is scary, but most things worth doing are usually the scariest. I will be praying that Tamigotchi stays strong and well. I think he is a survivor and I'm going to do everything in my power to help him survive.

I don't even know how long possums live for once they make it to adulthood.

Instalment 2 - Friday 8 April 2011

I woke up a little bleary-eyed this morning after setting the alarm for the two hourly feeds my new little friend needs. With each feed he gets a little better at managing the syringe. I don't have a teat or anything on the end of the syringe, so it's not the best situation, but beggars can't be choosers.

The morning progresses well and I quickly discover he is a bit of a master on the syringe by now. He's quite a strong little guy and during the night my confidence grew with each feed. I think he is going to make it, and I now believe I can help him along the way.

I still don't know what sex he or she is, but for blogging purposes, I am going to make an uneducated guess and call him a he. He slept really well through the night and it didn't take much for me to notice that he loves getting the top of his head rubbed. I am happy to oblige.

After each feed, I gently massage his little body and he goes right off to sleep. I continue to feed him every two hours through today. He is just gorgeous and my heart fills with love for him. How could you not fall in love with such a precious little honey?

By afternoon he is quite the expert on the syringe and I somehow get the impression that he loves his food. He drinks about 1.5ml of diluted Carnation milk each feed.

I did some more reading on the Internet about possums and I am confident he is definitely a ringtail possum. An odd feeling begins to invade my space. I am beginning to feel very torn and uneasy with whom I should notify about this little guy. I really want to do what's best for him, but deep inside, I know this is his home and he should remain here. Oh, I don't know! This is not very easy.

I feel very protective. I want to speak to someone whom I can trust to help me make the right decision for him. I've done a lot of thinking since yesterday and realise this situation is not so cut and dried.

Some deep thought needs to go into this little guy's situation. I am thinking of the big picture. Willow Pond is his home. When he grows up, he is meant to be here. It's his birthright and there is no reason why he shouldn't remain here.

If I could find a mentor I know that I could raise him well. I'd certainly give it my best shot. I'm not silly. I know I could never raise a possum by myself. I know I'd need some help.

Now it was up to me to find someone. I'd have to think about this some more.

Another problem is - I don't have a permit.

After doing further reading I discover that you need a permit to raise wildlife. Well, that makes sense and I don't have a problem with that. Now I need to sign up to be a wildlife carer. That can't be too hard now, can it?

By afternoon, I decide to weigh the little guy. I use my digital kitchen scales. He weighs 59 grams. He is so little and there's not much to him.

His fur is smooth and shiny. I now know for sure from my latest reading, he is not what they call a 'pinky' (furless). Judging from the information, I take a guess that he is between 110 - 115 days old. Ringtails apparently don't get to grow too big.

Some more interesting information I discover is that I need to wipe his bottom gently with a tissue after he eats to encourage him to go to the toilet. I used to have to do this with Kayla's three puppies when I had to take over raising them after Kayla developed severe mastitis. You don't need to rub hard. It is more a tickle with the tissue.

I tried this the next time I fed him, however, it was a little tricky and awkward and in the end I wasn't sure I'd been very successful.

During the evening he becomes decidedly more active. I found a cute basket to make a bed for him in it. When it was time for me to go to bed I carried him upstairs in the basket and set him down on my bedside table, all tucked in for the night. His last feed had been at 12:30am and I was ready to hit the sack. I set the alarm for 2:30am and turned out the lights.

At about 12:20am I awoke to a sound that was not familiar. My brain finally identified the sound as one that comes from the little guy. I'd heard him make it before. The problem was that it didn't seem to be coming from the basket. It was coming from somewhere else in the room.

I got up carefully and turned on the light and dimmed it right down. The little guy was not in his basket and nor was Ian in bed. Ian, I discovered was in the bathroom. I knew I'd need to be careful about where I put my feet. I could still hear the little high pitched sound he was making. I made my way down towards to bottom of the bed and there he was, sitting in the middle of the floor and no doubt, very scared. I can believe that he escaped the sleeping puppies - again, and that Ian hadn't trod on him on the way to the bathroom. Once again his skin had been saved.

I pick him up and he bit me lightly on my forefinger. Cheeky! It didn't hurt, but it is always a surprise when he bites. He has bitten me a couple of times now. I'm a little awkward holding him yet, but I am getting better.

I collect his basket and make our way downstairs. It is now time for some milk. I quickly get everything ready and soon he is tucking in well. He is a spirited little guy.

Now I had to come up with a plan to contain him. I ended up using my netting throw that I use to cover food on the dining table to protect from nasty flies, etc. I spread it over the basket and secured it well. We climbed the stairs after I cleaned up the possum's things and I put the basket back on the bedside table. I left the light on dimmer and laid down and watched to see what would happen next.

I didn't have to wait long for a small silhouette to appear out of his bed. He spent a little bit of time climbing all around the basket inside of the netting, but then he when he discovered he couldn't escape, he burrowed back down into his covers and his hidey hole. Such a cutie.

The Rescue: Thursday 7 April 2011

Ahhh, day one of school holidays. Well teachers get pretty excited about school holidays too, you know. And it had been a long term of 11 weeks and all. I love my job. During school terms I work part-time teaching bright young primary students creative writing.

I had just had a very relaxing start to a very ordinary day. First a trip to the hairdressers and then off on one of my very favourite missions...a trip to Riverbend Books for some new titles and a coffee. Can it get much better than that? Nah! I don't think so. On the way  I got caught in two heavy downpours in what was a very sunny day here in Brisbane. Downpours are typical for Brisbane, even during our sunny periods.

With my field trip over for day, I drove home and slid the gate open, drove in, parked the car in the garage and proceeded to walk back to shut the gate, just like normal. But today turned out to be not quite so ordinary. For there near the gate, my eyes clapped sight of the smallest possum I'd ever seen in my life. All alone. At first I thought it was a rat!

I stopped short and just stared, gobsmacked. I wondered what would happen next. I wasn't sure what he was going to do. I was very careful not to make any scary or sudden moves. I quietly walked past him and slid the gate shut. My next thought was to find a towel to pick him up with. He hadn't moved.

I found an old towel quickly and then doing my best not to scare the living daylights out of the little guy, I delicately picked him up, gently wrapped him and cradled him in my hands.

Now what was I going to do?

I spent some time looking for mamma. We have possums living in our sheds, so I thought he must have fallen off his mother's back or something like that. I was hoping to find his mamma, but had no such luck. Where were they when you wanted them. Probably holed up somewhere sleeping the daylight away.

I managed to get my stuff inside and then I sat down and tried to warm up my new little friend. I hadn't been feeling that well for most of the day, so I decided this was a perfect way to make myself just sit down and relax. I found a comfy chair in the lounge room and sat down, put him close to my chest and began to warm him. I thought I'd wait until someone else came home and they could help me take him to the vets so he could be handed over to a Wildlife Carer.

I sat with him for hours. No one came home and while I waited I decided to open my laptop and google for information on possums. I didn't even know what sort of possum this little guy was at this point. Nor did I know if he was a she. I hadn't really looked at him all that much yet, but I remembered that he was a rusty red colour. The possums I'd seen in our shed, I thought, looked a different colour. They were more grey, but babies sometimes start out as one colour and change when they get their adult fur.

After a short time, I decided to go across to the shed to try to find a hot water bottle and something I could make a little pouch out of. I didn't come up with the water bottle yet, but I managed to find a little dog's knitted jacket that belonged to my son's dog, Ewok. It was perfect to keep the possum in so that he would be warm and feel secure. I somehow managed to transfer him into this new pouch and he didn't seem to mind.

I spent a long time trying to navigate my way around the minefield of information. I couldn't really find very many websites about Australian possums. It began to get dark outside and still no one had come home yet. The little possum was now very settled and seemed quite unperturbed by everything.


I read an article on an official Victorian Wildlife Sanctuary website that for emergency purposes you could feed small possums diluted Carnation milk. Well, I had some of that in my pantry and we have horses and I knew we had some clean syringes (not the needles) here for the times we've needed to inject horses. I carried the little guy around with me and found these things. I diluted and heated the milk to skin temperature and then filled up the sterilised syringe and gave it my best shot.

At first, I was very clumsy in the way I held the little guy. I'd never held a possum before and they have all these little toes and hooky feet, plus a very strong, curly tail. I was certainly very awkward and he didn't have a clue what was going on either. We muddled our way through though and I managed to get the syringe full of milk into his tummy; all 1.5 ml of it. But, hey...I was happy with that. Success.

By this stage I was beginning to think he was a little ringtail possum because I noticed the creamy-white tip on the end of his tail when he'd come unwrapped and the fur description on the website information matched his fur. So, okay. Now I had a very young ringtail possum on my hands. Literally.
By the time someone came home I decided, after reading what was involved in caring for the possums that I wouldn't take him down to the vet's tonight. If we did he would have to wait with barking dogs while a carer came to pick him up. I believed that I was responsible enough to be able to get up through the night for two hourly feeds. I'd raised my own babies, so I felt I owed it to this little guy. It all came down to common sense, really. I'd learnt by this stage that he was not what they call 'a pinky', (a furless ringtail possum), which meant he had a higher rate of survival, and the way he was eating, I really felt very comfortable that I would be fine taking care of him. Oh, and after another couple of searches in the shed I found the hot water bottle I was looking for. I was able to use this as a heat pad to keep him warm throughout the night.

So, that's how we began this journey.

I got up every two hours and reacquainted myself with the little guy throughout the wee small hours. Obviously he was quite alert during these periods. He seemed to really enjoy it when I gently 'fairy brushed' his back and head and rubbed around his ears. His mother would be doing this, so as a substitute mum, I tried to emulate what she would do. I did however draw the line at any licking to clean though. We'd have to find another way for that! Every time I held him, my heart grew bigger. During these feed times I always spend a little time with him held up against my chest so he could listen to my heartbeat.

So, until next time...
love from Willow Pond

Revamped: Cimmaron Soul to Willow Pond

This blog site has been dormant for a little while now, but it always stayed in the back of my mind. I kind of left it so I could set up my book club and writers' club blog and because I'm not a technological IT sort of person, these things take time for me to implement. So I contented myself with one blog at a time: my Novel Tea 'n Pages blog and left things be.

However, now I'm back with new ideas and decided this blog needed a name change and a revamp, which I proceeded to do. Now I'm ready to begin.

I hope along the way I meet up with many new readers. It takes awhile I know, but here's hoping.

I am going to start my blog rolling by sharing some adventures about the experience of being thrown into the deep end of a  world previously unknown by me. This world that I speak of is that of 'Wildlife Carer'. It wasn't planned at all. I just kind of fell into it. But I won't spoil it here.

I plan to chronicle my journey because you see, this adventure was born out of necessity and the fact that I have a soft heart, or maybe because I am a 'soft touch'? Well, it doesn't matter. The thing is I began this journey with zero knowledge and have been on a steep learning curve the whole time, but I feel like I'm coming up to speed fast.

Like everything new, there are times I feel confident and other times not so confident, but there's no choice, you just keep pushing on through and hopefully at the end, there will be reward.

So, I hope you decide to join me on my journey. I hope that over time I end up building a journal that might prove useful to any novice that finds themselves in the situation I recently found myself in.

so, until next time...
love from Willow Pond

It's Christmas Time

Ho Ho Ho ~ it’s that time of the year again…I’m in denial … again! It can’t be … can it? (lol … I never change – in some things)…

The lead-up to Christmas is an opportunity to reflect on the past year and take a look back over the highs and lows. It is a valuable time to take stock of what our purpose for this past year amounted to, and evaluate our personal goals. So how did you score? Did you achieve what you set out to achieve?

That’s why Christmas newsletters are so good. It gives us a chance to hear each other’s highlights for the year (and sometimes the low points ~ don’t worry…we’re all in this together ~ everyone has them). I want to thank those of you who diligently put together the family Christmas newsletter and let you know that yes, we do read them and we value them. It is such a wonderful way to keep in touch and updated.

This year, I would like to share something that’s been on my heart lately, and, as Christmas is looming, my two bobs worth fits in quite nicely here. This is the season to be jolly and I wanted to share about a powerful three-letter word…joy.

Christmas Spirit – Joy

The ‘big day’ means many different things to all people. Beside all the obvious family togetherness, the real purpose of Christmas is to celebrate the birth of our Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ.

My prayer for all is that, Christmas is a time for joy, no matter what your circumstances may be. And I continue that prayer to encompass all times…for joy is not meant to be contained and hidden away.

During our toughest and enduring times, do we always remember the things we have; the ones who love and care for us here on earth, and importantly, the One who is in Heaven? Are we joyful?

Material things are nice, but how much importance do we give them? This year, think about giving something that is truly special this year ~ your time. Spend some of your valuable time with those you love and care for, and maybe think too about spending some time with someone who is lonely. Time is one of the greatest gifts of all. Time is important and it means so much when it is shared with us. Time spent with others creates special memories that perhaps will be remembered for a lifetime.

Just a thought: I wonder what Christmas would be like if, just once, we didn’t buy commercial gifts, but rather gave of our time, by either spending time with others, or making something special for them? A lot can be said for handmade gifts. They generally come from the heart. What joy might be found in making time and giving of it freely, especially in our time-poor society? Who, along with me, derives much joy from giving?

Joy is markedly different from feeling happy. We can still feel joyful, even when we feel sad or we are having a tough time.

Knowing God helps in this area of life. Knowing that God is always there for us, and living by faith, and not by sight helps us to be joyful.

Joy is an important gift that we need to share in this world.

Hidden joy is a sin of humanity.

A smile costs us nothing, yet it can leave someone feeling immensely uplifted. A kind or gentle word can sometimes be enough encouragement for someone to believe in themselves. How do you feel when someone takes time to smile at you? I know it makes me feel good.

Smiles these days seem harder to come by. A lot of people put their heads down and walk on by. We are all so busy and it seems society dictates the standard where people feel the need to live more privately and cocooned. Privacy is valued, but reaching out to others is a way to experience joy.

The reason for the season is to celebrate the birth of Jesus and to give thanks for why God sent Him to be with us. ‘And a voice from heaven said, “This is my dearly loved Son, who brings me great joy.” Luke 17 (NLT). Let’s all try to remember to be joyful for what we have in life and give thanks with a grateful heart.

My prayer for all is that you experience joy during this coming Christmas season and into the coming new year. I pray that if each of us makes an effort to share joy in this world, we will all be winners, for instantly, we will have made our world a better place to be. Just something to think about… God bless xx

Fancy That

For some reason whenever I take a trip or go on a holiday I seem to get caught up in taking photos of nature's wonderland.

I don't show any interest when I am at home, probably because I'm too busy with everyday life, but send me on a holiday with a camera and suddenly I aspire to be the next Ken Duncan. Not really, but I don't know where this inspiration comes from.

Could there really be a little bit of fantasy mixed up in this urge? We all know that when we are away on holidays, we can be almost anyone we want to be.

Maybe pretending to be a hot shot photographer is one of my fantasies. I've never really thought that one out loud before, but perhaps it is tucked away in my inner soul just longing for the next holiday to reveal its hidden talents.

Or maybe is is just simply about stopping to smell the roses.

Whatever the reason, it is an enjoyable way to spend some of my 'rest' time, taking notice of the intricate ways nature interacts with its world.

On one trip up north last year we were blessed to spend some time on the coast. There's a lot to be said for kicking shoes off and feeling the sand between your toes. You can literally feel the healing properties of the sun's rays penetrating your soul.

The time spent on the beach allowed me to get up close and personal with nature first hand. I sometimes felt like the paparazzi of nature, instead of movie stars.

I am a mere mortal when it comes to taking photos, but on holidays, I actually start to think about the shot; the position of the subject, angles and light. This is a little different to the snap photography at home; quick head shots of friends and family members doing life.

I actually enjoyed getting down close to the earth where I could smell the salty sand and vegetation to take my photos.

On a trip out to Mt Isa earlier this year, my significant other took me for a drive to the deserted township of Mary Kathleen. What an interesting place. Here, my interest in nature sprung to life as I tried to capture every imaginable angle of the many gorgeous ghost gums I discovered in and around the many old foundations of the once vibrant uranium mining town.

The smooth, cool white of the trunks stood out in contrast to the rough and tumble of the surrounding relics and scrub. I saw beauty in every tree, each unique in its own way.

Ghost gums are my absolute favourite type of tree and if I ever contemplated hugging a tree, it would definitely be a ghost gum.