In a local gallery I saw a sepia photo of a man travelling in a horse drawn cart down a country lane. The photo dated from the 1920s and was taken in what is a now the local bush reserve of Tower Hill. Back then the area was farmed but it is now being regenerated.
I figured out where the track would have been and went to see what it looks like now. The entrance was bared with chain slung between two poles but there was no keep out sign so I skirted round the obstacle and wandered off down the track. It was about half past three and the winter sun hung low in the sky. The shadows lengthened as I walked.
At first I walked down a leaf strewn track bordered by tall white trunked gums.
Birds sang and I caught fleeting glimpses of the shallow lake beyond. After the long dry of the summer months recent heavy rains have replenished both the land and the lake.
The track grew rougher and the vegetation changed. The European Hemlock which is the scourge of this place in summer is now low and leafy. Its bright green colour softens the landscape. Suddenly it was as if I walked down an English country lane in some idyllic moment stored in the timeless past of the collective imagination.
The track eventually petered out so I turned round and walked back to my car. The sun sunk lower still and cast long golden rays of light deep into the bush