Oils on stretched canvas,
72 x 105 cms
Not for sale
I read in my son’s school newsletter the other day about Wattle Day celebrations. “Wattle is a national symbol of unity and resilience and the Governor General spoke about drawing on this symbol as one of hope and inspiration”. How poignant, at this UNPRECEDENTED time.
Wattle Day, I read in an article on The Conversation, has a somewhat darker history and was initiated by the fiercely patriotic “native born son’s association” who as early supporters of what became the White Australia Policy, didn’t see unity, inclusiveness or indigenous folk as part of their remit. (The modern day Wattle Day Association does and would like to see Wattle Day as an alternative to Australia Day). Wattle they think of next?
The green and gold! And it’s 20 years on from our green and gold extravaganza – the 2000 Olympics. Did you see ‘our Cathy’ on the telly last night? It still brings a tear to my eye (really). Although the boxing kangaroo still does nothing for me.
I’m sure for some people, wattle signifies the onset of hay fever season, even though it’s more likely to be rye grass than wattle, that gets up their noses, I read in an article elsewhere.
Every year, around mid August I say to myself “the wattles are out early this year”, and every year I remind myself, “no the wattles are not out early, wattles are an end of winter, not a beginning of spring thing”. And every year I think how fleetingly beautiful the wattle is, better than a cherry blossom, to remind us that winter ends, of all of the above, and the beauty of being alive and living ‘in the moment’.