Exploring one of my favourite local patches of native vegetation, I noticed a pervasive smell on the air, which could be described as a proper pong along the lines of raw effluent. I looked around, but could see nothing obvious, so I carried on photographing small plants, including this one:
It’s a lovely little ground-hugging plant, with leaves like geranium and a subtle flower ball made up of dozens of tubular flowers, that grows in open woodland.
The penny only dropped much later, when I went to my favourite identification book of plants for this area, Birds and Plants of the Little Desert: a photographic guide by Ian Morgan, Graham Goods and Maree Goods (2014), and discovered that this plant’s common name says it all: Stinking Pennywort. I kid you not!
As I continued to visit areas where this charming little plant (scientific name Hydrocotyle laxiflora) grew over the coming weeks, I realised that the smell was more like rotting vegetation in pond water, and grew accustomed to it, if not actually fond of it.
Olympus EPL7 with Panaleica 45mm macro.
Well, the time of wildflowers is upon us, and I am getting out among them as much as I can manage. This year I’ve been delighted to find so many orchids close to home, including the sun-orchids that I consider among my very favourites.
Getting back into ‘ Olympus colour’ has also been a joy, and I am particularly enjoying the rendering of the images taken with my newly acquired E-PL7 + Panasonic Leila 45mm macro lens.
It never really feels like springtime to me until the native wildflowers bloom en masse, which happens only briefly. I am so fortunate to have these amazing specimens growing only a scant mile from my home – some even nearer, in my own nature strip.
Clockwise from top left: Donkey orchid (Diuris pardina); Leptospermum sp.; Purple Beard-orchid (Calochilus robertsonii); One of the many varieties of bush pea; Maroonhood? (Pterostylis pedunculata); Goodenia sp.?; Coarse Twine-rush (Apodasmia brownii); lily species.
Say you’re walking around a patch of scrub or remnant vegetation and you see a scattering of green leaves that have fallen onto the ground from somewhere. You’re intrigued, so you kneel down for a closer look and you notice that they’re not fallen, they grew that way. At home you get out your native plant book and learn that they’re the basal leaf of a native orchid, but there’s no flower, so you wonder what will come up.
The next year, you’re wandering around in that area again and there they are again, but this time there are slugs on them! You kneel down again and see that they’re not slugs at all, they’re the orchid flower and suddenly their identity comes to you: Slaty-helmet orchids! Tricky little doodads. These photos show you how tiny they are – the flower is about the size of my little finger nail.
I bought a macro lens adapter on Gumtree, and it arrived today, so I rushed up to the amazing nature strip outside my property to investigate properly. The Raynox DCR-250 macro adapter lens did a mighty fine job attached to the zoom lens on my Panasonic Lumix DMC GX7, and has a universal fit so is suitable for many lenses and cameras.
The lesson is to be watchful, and willing to wait.
Shot with Panasonic Lumix DMC GX7. Edited with Snapseed app.
Shot with Panasonic Lumix GX7 and Panasonic Leica 45mm f2.8 macro lens, in-camera dynamic monochrome filter. Edited with Snapseed app.
I don’t rightly know what this plant, growing in a public garden in Ararat, is called.
Fujifilm X30, edited with Snapseed app.