What does it mean to live somewhere? We all live somewhere in the world, but what connects us to that somewhere? And when does somewhere transition to home? And when does home transition to belonging? And when does belonging become a strong emotional  bond that's inexplicable but nevertheless has a very strong pull?

The world is our oyster as the saying goes, although I'm not sure what shellfish have to do with our life decisions. However, we can live anywhere in the world, so why did we choose this particular country, this state, this suburb, this street, this house or this oyster. When and how did we decide this somewhere was home?

A pair of Welcome Swallows decided their somewhere is at the nursery, having made their journey back from Queensland. They weigh in at 9-20 gm and fly without pilot training, flight instruments, in-flight service, or any protection from the elements. This is indeed a miracle, but how did they decide, out of all the places in the world, my nursery is home? After all, they have a passport to the world, no bookings required, no lengthy check-ins, no security checks, no quarantine, they are the plane flight, ready to go anywhere they choose.

As soon as Welcome Swallow pairs return from their Queensland trip, they make renovations to their nest, producing robust mud shapes with just their beaks, any potter would be proud to display. After making renovations, they make a feather doona  to keep their eggs cosy, hatch their triplets, collect food for their hungry family, keep them safe, clean their house, while never complaining of tiredness, overwhelm or frustration with the never ending demands of parenthood.

I don't hear them yelling at their kids, "Stop fighting." "Don't speak to me like that." "Say thank you," or squabble with their spouse over division of labour. They appear to have this whole parenting thing all sorted, and raise three gorgeous children growing like a souffle, in a nest that appears to be in desperate need of several new bedrooms.

I will watch the young ones learn to fly, and when winter approaches they will leave again. I will wish them well on their journey and look forward to welcoming them back in spring to their somewhere they call home.

Tasmania is home to many native pines, and one of the most beautiful is the South Esk Pine, but I could be a little biased  as it grows along the river where i live. The South Esk Pine also grows along the St Pauls River and here it is known as St Pauls Pine.

South Esk Pine is a beautiful  formal shaped native cypress pine with bluish green foliage and an upright form. It can be planted at 1m intervals to make a narrow dense hedge. The thick foliage is used by small birds for nesting. Blue wrens love it as a safe haven, disappearing and reappearing feeding their hungry family well hidden within the foliage.

South Esk Pine is extremely drought and frost tolerant, and although it grows along rivers, it strangely doesn't like to be in extended waterlogged sites. It happily grows in full sun or part shade and is suitable for all soils with good drainage. South Esk Pine grows 3-5m high and 1-3 m wide.

Keep watered until established, but once settled in to its new home, it doesn't need any upkeep and it will maintain its nice formal shape.

if you don't have room for a tall tree, South Esk Pine makes an ideal pot plant which can double as a Christmas tree..
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If we think of a plant community as a pyramid, the greatest number and variety of plants are at the ground level. As we go up the pyramid we find small shrubs, then larger shrubs, small trees and then eucalypts. We notice the eucalypts standing head and shoulders above all others, but usually there are only three different varieties compared to the hundred or so different plant varieties living at the base of the pyramid.

The plants growing at ground level, or at the base of the pyramid, support all the other layers, and when this layer is compromised, the health of the bushland is also compromised. There is an intricate health system in operation within our bushland that we can never hope to understand. But it's good enough to know. that like people, each member of the community is important, and their gifts and talents create a healthy vibrant community.

And for our own community to be healthy and thrive, we also have an intricate health system in place. This system provides services that individuals contribute to, such as schools, hospitals, police, supermarkets and post offices. When our community becomes compromised and we lose our base support services, the health and vibrancy of our community goes into a steady decline, losing one service after another. This is obvious in rural communities where people drift into the city wanting better services and job opportunities until our towns are shells of their former self. Some services are noticeable, but then there are the less obvious, more intricate services in our community such as writers, musicians, entertainers and artists of all genres. With greater complexity, our lives are richer, happier, and thus healthier.

In bushland where there is greater complexity, there is always something flowering at this time of year, which makes me smile. Orchids, lilies and ground covers are covered in tiny delicate flowers, and climbers such as apple berry, blue love and clematis are showing off their tree climbing skills.

The challenge is getting closer to the ground, to become more attentive, to notice, and to really see beauty in its many forms and disguises. When we have a relationship with all the personalities living in our bushland, we see their value. Our values represent the very essence of what's important to us in our life. Our values are expressed in our everyday living, and these values influence our actions. It allows us to care for the smallest and most vulnerable understorey plats.

And the smallest and the most vulnerable in our community are our children, and like clematis they make us smile, showing us the importance of the pyramid of life.