On my way to visit you, wildflowers of every hue peeked out from grassy clumps and tree stumps, wire fences and box hedges. The white stigma of the fuchsia bougainvillaea resembled eyes as I passed by—the big brother of the plant kingdom, I thought. The ironbark tree near the swings is shedding bark, and the channel-billed cuckoos are back from Papua New Guinea for the summer. I hear them all the time, even at night when the frogmouth is calling and the stone curlews are hissing and screeching at the red fox that lives in the undergrowth beneath the water pipes. Last week I saw a kookaburra swoop into…