Close to my home is a small reserve, one of the few remaining pieces of original bushland. It is one of my favourite walks and whilst short, it always instils a feeling of peace as we meander through its shady track.
Banksia in various stages.Whilst typing this I heard a rendition of, "The Banksia Men" being played on a local radio station. Coincidence or not, I found this most intriguing. The only Banksia Men I had heard of until this point were those mentioned by May Gibb in her stories of the Cuddlepot and Snugglepie.
We came to a grove of Banksia trees and sitting on almost every branch were these ugly little, wicked little men that I discovered and that's how the Banksia Men were thought of.[2]
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