Guidegram
It means a lot that despite everything we've built around them, platypus are still here.
In recent years a fish ladder was added, to help creatures make the transition between above the falls and below. Small and careful adjustments.
The feeling of community here isn't accidental. It's been built over long years of workers in the textile factories and other industries banding together, striking for fair conditions, looking out for one another.
A place to stop and wander awhile, following the loop over the footbridges for a slower view of the creek. Dawn or dusk for a lucky peek of the platypus, but life is always teeming.
I think there's quiet power in a story like this, that shows how community can rally towards care for place and identity.
Eltham’s rare plants and animals aren’t just species on a list, they’re part of the suburb’s life and ecological story.
You can bend to glimpse patches of wetlands, that suddenly open in their own private vista. It feels like a journey, one that evolves constantly, surprising you with each moment.
One winter's day I arrived for a cup of tea and some reading by the fire, and Alan had a ball of ice in his hand.
Not a gallery, not a retreat, just a place where people actually lived and made things together. That distinction really matters.
They're described as a colony in their roosting places (which they return to each day) but a cauldron or a cloud in flight.
His influence fused with Eltham's evolving character. Ford and Alistair Knox worked together on many projects, combining the mudbrick houses with gardens, as artists with the general suspicion of anything too polished.
That's an intimate kind of locality. The bricks belong because they came from the same earth they're sitting on.