The nerd in me would like to see the research protocol for COVID-19. If it’s really as some people say, that it’s all an elaborate social experiment that some divine being is carrying out on humanity, then I’d like to know what the hypothesis is, and what endpoints are being measured. And how on earth did it get through ethics? I guess that once you reach a certain level of divinity, you get to make your own rules.

I’m guessing that some people are hoping that I might just come up with something more intelligent and insightful to say about the current COVID-19 situation in Australia. We now have all those lockdowns and worrying developments in multiple states. But I feel this is probably best left to the experts. Of course, nobody really knows how things will end up, but the experts have a much more informed guess than I can pull out of my inexperienced brain. I must admit, though, that I struggle a lot with the guilt of privilege, in that with my health role, I’m allowed to go to work still.

And so in order not to rub my relative freedom in other people’s faces even more, let me tell you about some of the places in my local government area (LGA, for those of you not from Australia) where I am restricted for all the essential but non-work parts of my life, according to the current rules. Current as at the time of writing this paragraph, but who knows what the rules will be by the time I publish this post. I agree that the frequency of the changes, and the number of details involved, make these Public Health Orders quite confusing. One additional challenge that I had was that sure, I know the name of my LGA because I know who takes my rubbish away every week. But I didn’t know where exactly the boundaries were. The maps that are available aren’t very well publicised, nor easy to find. I had to poke around a little bit before I could find a map that actually showed street-level detail, to prevent myself from inadvertently breaking the rules and stumbling into a neighbouring LGA.

The Hornsby Shire, my current LGA, is on both Darug and Guringai land. It doesn’t have any ocean beaches, so I’ll have to wait until the lockdown eases before I can see the Pacific again. But it definitely makes up for it in terms of beautiful bushland areas. One thing that I love about the geography of Sydney is that you can live in an apartment building but then just go for a wander in the national park down the road.

One of the stunning national parks in the Hornsby Shire is the Berowra Valley National Park. And one of the relatively short and straightforward walks in the park is the Place of Winds Interpretive Trail. (But don’t be deceived by the picture below. It starts off as a boardwalk but it’s not that easy the whole way.) It’s perfect for smashing out some morning exercise with a friend, before you both return to the big crazy world out there for the rest of the day. The only thing was that we didn’t quite understand the “interpretive” bit in the name of the trail. Were we supposed to have done an interpretive dance in a clearing in response to all the breathtaking scenery around us? Or were we meant to have tried to make sense of all the bird calls? (I’m pretty sure most of those would have been along the lines of, “Humans are approaching! Watch out!”). Anyhow, here are some pictures of this picturesque place, for you to interpret however you like.

Another landmark here in the Hornsby Shire that I’ve been wanting to write about for a while now is the Hornsby water clock, by the then-Sydney (now further up the coast) artist Victor Cusack. Technically, there’s actually more than one clock (although I’d say that many people would just call it the water fountain, and notice zero clocks). If you actually bother to read the descriptive plaque, it tells you that it’s made up of a Greek clepsydra clock (don’t worry, I had to google that one), a Chinese water wheel clock and a Swiss pendulum clock … all built to move around as part of a larger pontoon rotation clock. Talk about clock-ception. And many sculptural animals to celebrate all the wildlife we have around here. It’s quite iconic, in the middle of the Hornsby mall precinct, and apparently set the Hornsby Shire back more than a million dollars to build it back in 1993. I’m glad to see the local councillors’ commitment to public art. It can’t be cheap to maintain, either, with so many moving parts. And of course, the public health person in me would be keen for all necessary resources to be used to keep the fountain free of microbes. Every time we’re notified at work of a new Legionella case in my LGA, I walk past the water clock with a (probably undeserved) sidelong glance of suspicion. It’s been mostly turned off these past few winter months (with a rather sporadic and unpredictable pattern of operating days). But here’s a picture of it from its glory days back in January.

I don’t think that the abundance of random urban wildlife is unique to my LGA, though. I’m sure we’re not the only part of Sydney where bush turkeys wander down the streets and into yards. At the beginning of the current lockdown, I did wonder whether the decrease in food scraps of human origin lying around would affect the foraging behaviours of these creatures. As it turns out, the wild rabbits that visit the gardens of one of the nearby train stations are becoming so rotund that their faces are looking chipmunk-like. In my mind, I imagine that even the gentle pressure from picking one of them up might cause it to make a noise like a whoopee cushion. And on that flight of whimsy, I’ll now get back to the more serious business of trying to do something about this pandemic.