Wattle is a season maker.
"The wattles are out," we say. 'Spring is coming'. They're an Australian version of daffodils. In indigenous folklore, it's bad luck to bring them in the house. Perhaps because they can induce hayfever, but they aren't brilliant cut flowers anyway - and all one has to do is step outdoors for it to be, in the words of Coldplay, all yellow.
On the first of Spring, I walk along the clifftops at Angelsea from Point Roadknight - the surf is tiny and blown out. It's windy and rainy too - Spring is either a warm hug or a wet and cold slap in the face. But today, this first day of September, is also Wattle Day, the only national day in Australia to celebrate nature. This walk certainly feels like a celebration of wattle - it's everywhere, with many varieties.
Wattle Day has really always been about patriotism, a reminder of home for those fighting wars overseas and to community fundraise. But it's more than that - it's a symbol of hope, regenerating after fire (in Hiroshima, apparently the first flower to bloom after the bomb) and providing splendid sunshiney colour after the winter dark.
As I walk up the hill I'm struggling a lot, as I'm still recovering from COVID even after months. It takes me twice as long, but I do have the beauty of nature to stop and admire. Purple berries of lamandra, silky oaks, banksia, grevillea, she oaks, flax.
Still, it's the wattle that stands out. Acacia, for indigenous people, was also used for clapping sticks, boomerangs, spears and other weopons. The seeds were ground to flour and it was also used as medicine. Lore is attached to it - in Wutrendjeri it's a sign of elders passing over. Here, it's is the traditional home of three Aboriginal nations, the Wadawurrung, the Gulidjan and the Gadubanud - I'm not sure what it signifies to them, as much as been lost and I need to ask.
But for all of us here in Spring, wattle is loud, dominant, spectacular. "How beautiful is the wattle!" we all cry. Today, as I walk the coastal path down to the sea, I am thinking the same thing.
Eventually I leave the wattle behind as the path joins the beach. Yellow becomes instead a warning sign.
The sticky red clay of the cliffs gives way to the safety of the beach, the blue grey of the sea a stark contrast to the yellow flowers of the clifftop.
Together though, they are magical. And today, the word for world has been wattle.
*The cliff walk is good on low tide where you can enjoy the beach and the cliff views. Start at Point Roadknight carpark and walk along beach til the surfclub. Take the road to the clifftop walk and turn left back down to the beach along cliffs. Approx 45 minutes.
With Love,
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