I grew up in the hollow of a gum tree, and used the tree's many nooks and curves for storage space. I learnt to test each new berry or leaf by rubbing its juice on the outside of my lips. If it didn't sting, or cause any swelling, I squeezed some more juice directly onto the lip, and waited a while to see if there was any reaction. If not, the juice would be tried on the tip of the tongue. By careful testing, I learnt which plants could heal and which could harm, which seeds could be ground to form a chewy meal, and which leaves could soothe away infection.

My father taught me to follow the trails of the indigo spider. The indigo spider wove a spider web of darkest blue of the night sky, and in it caught little moths and butterflies, beetles and humming bees - of all different colours. As they struggled in their indigo net, their colours rubbed, rolled and streaked the indigo chains of silk, and the spider pounced. My dad would then sneak up, gathering the silken threads and taking them to his loom, in the branches of the old gum tree.

That tree was home for cicadas, buzzing in the evening, birds swooping back and forth, pecking, warbling and darting, parrots swarming, and possums playing.

in the morning I watched Playschool in TV, by cyber satellite.