Inside Parliament House the year is punctuated by the progress of the seasons. With 17 courtyards throughout the building, nature is expertly managed to remind us what month it is and the uncompromising procession of life’s cycle.
As the year gets underway we arrive for the autumn session at the beginning of February. The roses at Parliament House are in the busy process of producing bursts of colour.
Each flower is subjected to the searing trials of the sun testing its form and structure. Only the most robust survive a week, none survive a fortnight.
The autumn session of parliament is dominated by the budget. Ministers, who finished the previous year unveiling their best projects, commence the session by defending them against the glare of the Finance Minister.
Propositions are tested. Priorities are assessed. And as a Minister’s pet project begins to wilt, the inevitable fate of even the most beautiful rose, is a stark reminder that reality can be very savage.
As May approaches the roses have subsided but a much grander display beckons. The turning of the leaves on the silver birch trees produces a bright gold blaze of brilliant foliage in one of the grandest demonstrations of a deciduous autumn that can be found in Australia.
Such a majestic show from the trees heralds a big moment in the chamber as the Treasurer makes his annual budget statement. The political and floral cycles are anchored in this one moment.
The Parliament House winter is stark. The trees are bare and the building quiet as politicians head back to their electorates to connect with their constituents. Amidst the silence the clean white branches set off by Canberra’s clear blue skies provide a distinct beauty.
With spring comes the pretty extravagance of the blossom trees. But it is another phenomenon at this time of year that steals the show.
Located on the annual migration path of the Bogong Moth, Parliament House is said to act as a giant light-trap for these insects. For a week or two the building is overrun and with the prey comes the hunter.
Just as the birches outside my office thicken with green, the peace and tranquility of the gardens is shattered by the snap-happy black beaks of Currawongs feasting on the moths.
These great, gluttonous black birds jump and swoop amongst the trees so busy grabbing the next mouthful they lose their footing and slam into windows.
To have a coffee outside in the Senate courtyard is to be in the midst of a feeding frenzy as bird asserts its dominance over moth in a grisly display of nature’s ruthlessness every bit the equal of the Liberal Party room.
The poor moths all fattened up for the flight south to their summer home in the Snowy Mountains don’t stand a chance.
Inside, the carnage continues as floors are covered with the dusty splat of yet another dead moth. For a politician it is disconcerting. Seeing the powerful feed so relentlessly on the weak can shake your confidence. It begs the question: where do I fit into the political food chain?
Life in politics is on the edge. One vote the wrong side of an election spells the end of a career that could have been glorious but for a single changing of a mind. Watching one moth plucked midflight by the currawong while another is left to fly safely to its destination seems poignant and familiar.
After a few weeks the moths are gone and the karmic disturbance is over. We can stop feeling our own mortality and delight in the blooming roses brought on by the return of heat to Canberra.
Last week the heatwave which has engulfed south eastern Australia in recent times even visited the Opposition. It was applied like a blow torch to the Leader by a sceptical group which simultaneously denied its existence.
For those of us on the other side the behaviour of the Liberal Party was as curious as the random flight of the butterflies. Flitting from one place to the next without any apparent direction the Liberal Party finally landed on the wrong side of the CPRS.
It was the climax of a full and changing year. As Government members, the show put on by the Opposition was certainly entertaining if far from conclusive. The Lincoln buffs were citing his bible quotations: “A house divided against itself cannot stand.” The parliamentary year had come to an end and the questions of climate are yet to be faced.
There was nothing left for us to do but leave the House of Reps entrance for the last time this year, walk across the driveway and smell the roses.
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