A whip bird is calling in an adjacent garden. Somewhere nearby a tree is being sawn down - a banksia tree which fell victim to wild winds last week.
The automatic sprinklers are on and I dodge them as I walk around the garden. The autumn colours are well and truly here and some trees are already bare for winter.
A shy hellebore blooms, nestled in its protective greenery.
The rain guage remains full of water and a gold red leaf floats in it silently.
Pink roses bloom against the blue sky.