Small steps to Giant Country

Environmental issues are always in the forefront of my mind. Now, more than ever. 

My background was as an environmental applied biologist. I researched as an aquatic ecotoxicologist, before slowly redirecting myself as a designer and artist. 

My first dream as a child was to be the world's first practicing xenobiologist on other planets, until it occurred to me that the universe of Star Trek had not quite been realised on earth yet, and we could not comfortably travel to other planets.

My second childhood dream was to be a tree warden, after reading J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings. I then realised I was not an Ent. Quite a shock.

So, I didn't pursue that either, but our past does not leave us.

We take it with us, and somehow incorporate it into who we are now. I know that my values and passions and instincts are still entwined within the natural world, and connected to our place, impact and responsibility for our health and the health of the planet, whether I explore that as a biological researcher, a NHS graphic designer, an artist or as an individual. 

I know that my artistic subject matter often comes back to the natural environment, and our impact on our natural world. And although I couldn't get from planet to planet, I did not give up on my dream of travelling from world to world, whilst exploring different countries and cultures on this, our most precious planet.

So with all that background, feeding my intuition, when I saw three pods from a Royal Poinciana (Delonix Regia), also known as Flamboyant or more commonly Flame tree in Parap, a suburb of Darwin, at the Top End of the Northern Territory, Australia, my imagination took flight. 

The flame tree is part of the bean family, Fabaceae. It has fern-like leaves and the most flamboyant orange/scarlet flowers.

I took the opportunity to be one of those people who begin to explore what I could do, personally, no matter how small that action may be.

The first step was to pick up three bean pods from the current crop. 

Finding bean pods of the Flame Tree in Parap

Having selected a few beans from the pods, these were kept in Dave's fridge, until we got some growing media, in some pretty large pots. We had nine beans in total. This was at the beginning of 2018's dry season. 

The flame tree's bean pods

I then left Australia and whilst away, Dave watered them. At the end of six months we had... NOTHING. 

Not a single thing. Oh come on. Does nature not want our help or what? Ok, so things may not work the first time around, but my wild imaginings, and magic beans not-withstanding, of a massive tree climbing all the way to giant country were being sorely tested!

The project was put on hold for a while, during the annual trek to New Zealand to wait out the wet season and so nature was left to do her thing, without this impatient expectation from humans, and copiously watered the pots without us. She is quite self reliant. 

On our return, the beans had sprouted... 

Ok, so 9 months were needed in the end, not 6 months as Google had assured us. What was up with the world? Perhaps mother nature is not so hard wired into our preferred global search engine to so readily give up her secrets. 

Tiny dicotyledon seedlings

By the end of the wet season in 2019, we had two seedlings. And their growth rate in the tropics is quite quick. This had not occurred to me, being used to a more temperate climate. It's pretty amazing to see the growth of things like bananas, and papayas and such.

Quickly growing seedlings

By the time we got to the end of the dry season 2019, the two saplings were ready to plant. So we took them back to Parap, and planted them. 

Transplanting the saplings

No small task, given we had to move two, six foot saplings across town in the motorhome, in two very heavy pots, in very hot and humid weather. One of the saplings didn't hold up to the reduced water, or transplantation, or the new environment. However, the second did well, and grew rapidly. 

Planting day

If its root system can take, it should hopefully survive the next wet, with its cyclonic winds... It need not be supported, as this challenge - the force of the winds, is what has led to trees like this growing strong enough to flex, and grow the root systems necessary to flourish. 

Taking hold

The flame tree is doing quite well, and I look forward to the time that I can look on it again in person. At time of writing we are coming out of lockdown in the UK, after the initial, horrifying battering of the COVID-19 pandemic, where many dreams lie in tatters. A human cyclonic-forced storm if ever I witnessed one. 

Our roots are deep however, and I am sure we can weather this.

I try to remember this saplings' beginnings as I go through life's challenges myself. 

There will be many more beans. And certainly Australia and the planet need reforestation to help with both climate change and species survival, including our own. 

Just think. If each one of us planted just one tree...what would be the impact on our planet. And us. 

Small steps indeed, but they might just get us to Giant Country.

Shoving the Elephant Overboard - The Outback Half

So I'm returning to Australia after spending the spring and summer months back in the UK, reconnecting with family and friends; working, and building further artwork for re-stocking my UK outlets.

Landing gear engaged...

The time spent away in the northern hemisphere, gave me time to reflect on that first big southern adventure.

So many things happened there, it is difficult to wrap that all up into one blog entry, so as promised, and shoving the elephant back overboard, I will not try, and I'll just touch on a single story, that resonated with me, instead.

Making the decision to come back to Australia was easy. But what was it specifically that I was looking forward to?

The fashionable head gear, and all the friendly insects?

This season, we will be wearing mostly net!

The hugely crowded beaches, where you can hardly move for windbreaks?

Where is everybody?

The modern forms of transport?

On the Murray River

The outside barbecue facilities on the road?

Roll up, roll-up, get your lovely sausages here!

Or perhaps it was Dave's facial expression when I told him I was coming back?

You're coming back?

Seriously, I think it has something to do with the eternally positive outlook of Australians, and how they so often can turn difficult and challenging situations into something inspiring, and endurable.


One story sums this up perfectly.


Whilst we were travelling post wet season, in March 2018, between Brisbane and Darwin, we stopped in the town of Barcaldine, Queensland.

An unassuming town, Bacarldine represents the origin of unionism, and the beginnings of the modern labour movement.

The meetings of sheep workers and pastoralists here were key to the growth of this early political force and they met to resist unfair treatment and strike to improve workers' rights in what must have been hugely difficult situations, let alone a demanding physical climate.

They met under The Tree of Knowledge, outside the station entrance of the terminus of the Great Western Railway.

The tree became a focal point, and symbol of this unity and strength. In 1888 the Central Queensland Labourers' Union was formed at Barcaldine.

In 2006, the tree was intentionally poisoned by glyphosate.

I suppose in some situations, with such a malicious act against a living organism, and symbol of human values, the story might have ended there. At best, it may have resulted in a plaque, and some lines of history for passing tourists to be wistful about.

But not here.

What emerged, like a seed awaiting the inevitable bush-fire, was an artwork that captured the indomitable spirit of the original movement's sense of injustice.

The Tree of Knowledge

The original tree, beneath the new 'canopy'

The memorial, designed and built by m3architecture and Brian Hooper Architect, can now be seen on the original site, and to sit beneath it is quite humbling.

The constructed wooden 'canopy' now towers above you, and when the wind blows, the wooden chimes sound eerily above the original tree's preserved trunk.

The story itself becomes even more memorable, when you find out that the original species was a Ghost Gum tree.

I spent a bit of time sitting and reflecting and listening to the tree's voice. For me there was the reflection of the wooden chimes symbolising the tree's leaves, and the many voices of the workers, struggling to be heard.

Later I found out that scientists have in fact been able to successfully clone material from the original tree, and specimens can be found growing in various places in Queensland. It gave me a smile and a lot to think about on the road ahead.

Personally, I find stories like this truly inspirational, and full of hope. That the seed of human resilience is there, and grows on. No matter what.

I'm now looking forward to seeing what's on the next horizon...