Autumn Jewels 



[ESTERDAY it rained all day, but this morning the sun 

 rose up in a sky that knew no clouds. Not even a white 

 fleck remains to tell of the big grey clumps which lowered 

 angrily a few short hours ago. But the soft, sweet rain has 

 left its mark on tree and grass and garden bed. The paddock 

 across the road is gleaming like a jewelled carpet, the bracken 

 holds a million gems in its graceful fronds, the young gum 

 suckers wave their ruby tips towards the emerald of the 

 sheltered shrubs beyond. At the far end of the clearing 

 where the tall trees are growing, diamonds and pearls glow 

 and glisten on a myriad leaves of blue gum, turpentine and 

 slender she-oak. They are held in a setting of silver, when 

 the long grey branches of the gums enfold them, or in the 

 deeper-hued platinum when the turpentines and she-oaks make 

 the background; and no nimble-fingered jeweller ever yet 

 worked such a magic tracer}- as those wild bush trees. From 

 amongst their upright trunks come more jewels; the mite- 

 like notes of the magpie carolling in the crisp air, fall like 

 softly dropping pearls upon the autumn day ; high in the tree 

 tops the Jacky Winter sends his sweet, round voice across the 

 morning; his song is daily growing fuller and longer as his 

 beloved cold weather draws near. In amongst the saplings 

 and grasses two tomtits are sending forth a trickle of soft 



