Cirrus@Austlit

'Spring, well over a decade ago. I head up the rise before the fruit trees as a tiger snake moves across the path made by my regular round of the tree paddock, a cherished place transformed more than ten years before this sighting, from a barren stretch of grass and rocks. I jump back when I see the snake, two metres in one movement, an impossible feat when I'm not full of fear. It takes a jump like that for my body to know a particular place as snake habitat. Spring is when snakes move their slowest, when they are seen more than they are heard. I still tread that part of the paddock carefully when the sun starts to sting.' (Publication abstract)