Wonderful season of early mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Close bossom-friend of the just-rising sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With blooms the wattles that round the downhill run;
To bend with gum nuts the mossed eucalypt trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the chest, and plump the new tyre
With a sweet Hope-hum; to set for budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think cold rainy days will never cease,
For Autumn has finally o'erbrimmed their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid this track?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find;
the funnest things are close to home;
Drowsed with the fume of eucalypts, while thy hook
Spares the next track and all its newly twined webs
And sometimes like a river meander the trail,
shaded by the low hanging branches (watch out!)

Where are the songs of Winter now? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music on the Ipod too, -
While barred clouds bloom the soft-starting day
And touch the old man banksia with rosy hue;
Among the creek sallows below, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown horses loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Cicadas sing, and now with treble soft
The kite whistles from a mighty loft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies....

In short - the track is open and in great condition!