It’s wrong to cage us in this great southern land. The spirit of this land is of freedom of movement. The spirits were upset when invaders curtailed freedom of people to go . Invaders put up fences mental and material in this wide brown land. Greedy for possessions, addicted to ownership they strangled the freedom of movement and cultures . And new comers still do. When will we newcomers learn of the spirit that is Australia. It is powerful and will continue to ask for respect. As it did of the first peoples and still does. My train of thought on this approach to writing about Australia is to: Bring out the story of the power of the land to look after itself and push back attempts to destabilise. I’m saying that the every part is important to the whole and this is held together by the spirit. I’m arguing that the present malaise has come about because actions have destabilised the great south land and the spirits are upset.
There is hope for a turn around if we take a new course. Which is the old course
- Push to Adopt the same laws of movement that the first peoples had.
- peel the wool from eyes. Feel the pain in the terrain. Somethings missing.The mighty rivers are a drain in pain.the forests of red gum all forlorn. Natives: no more do they roam, confined in their ancient home. Uninitiated youth youth strewth release them let them go black and white to shake out the depression. Peeved with grievance they advance without dance to destruction. Ice elation, frustration. Not concerned? You peel the wool from your eyes
A drain in pain
Don’t say it’s ok
Lachlan’s a drain in pain
No more overflow, Clancy
No more fords, Cobb and Co
Just pumps and syphons in whirring whining symphony.
deep gouged out channels.
drained flood plains.
Bovine belted banks.
No thanks
Once an Oxley’s exploring demise
His daily diary opened our eyes.*
A journey of disaster, logged forever after.
In hindsight no surprise.
Stream beds clogged, logged, natures weirdest weirs and distorted dams
Log jams
Intermittent high flows and low flows
these two images were taken 200years apart
Oxleys journals of his journey down the Laughlan
Overflows and chain-of -ponds.
Cumbungi fonds, bird throngs and songs
Water was wise.
Waters would rise
Catching them by surprise
Overnight
Overflowing
Filling marshes and lakes
Dryland vanished, vanquished
Explorers-exasperated,
bogged drays,
boats blocked,
Explorers defeated .
We now know it was
The remnant rainfall from
Saturated slopes
Springs and soaks
Recharging streams, aquifers and floodplains
Weeping and creeping
Regenerating wetlands
Continuous wetlands
Recharged floodplains
Oozeing constantly seeping slowly,
boggy flood plains
After no local rains only winter front rains.
Falling on the distant slopes.
Lachlan’s a drain in pain
Time to regain
It can be done with will
A bitter pill
A bit up hill
Take courage and cure the ill.
*Oxleys journal of his journey down the lachlan 1817. Gutenberg Press.
CargelligoWetlands 