Homework w/e 06.02.12 - A PLACE TO HANG HIS HAT

[Maureen K Clifford]

This is a true story - Dilladerri was our 2nd property and I named it for the tall timber there as the rough translation of that name is a place with a lot of tall timber. It carries mainly cypress which we cut and milled but also a lot of Ironbark and Box which we also cut and milled but very selectively. Just over 4000 acres with only the front 1000 acres ever cleared many years ago as it was originally a soldiers settlement block, out the back of Texas/Inglewood off of Wrights Road. Because it was so secluded and you had to pass through 3 other properties to reach it it was ideal for the Wildlife Land Trust who bought it.

http://www.wildlifelandtrust.org.au/ind ... dilladerri

The property was originally known locally as Stone Fireplace as that was all that remained of an old hut built by Chinese prospectors who did have a gold mine on it. The old windlass was still over the shaft but there was no worthwhile gold there according to recent geological aerial surveys that were done. The area in it's day did have gold taken from it but the discovery of rich gold fields in Gympie saw a rush of miners to that area and the gold fields throughout the Warwick, Stanthorpe and Inglewood areas were abandoned.

We had a caravan and a donga there and big machinery shed - bush style. It was a magical place. Got a lot of poetry out of it. 'Pobblebonking' was one and now this is another.





A PLACE TO HANG HIS HAT

‘twas miles away from nowhere but to somewhere was quite near,
a traprock block of shaly soil with history unclear.
That it was old was not in doubt - as old no doubt as time
and one time Chinese folk lived here – he’d found the old gold mine.

Along with stoppered bottles that now had an opal sheen
and blackened kerosene tins where the ant-bed stove had been.
A pick head minus handle, plus a pan battered and worn,
a sluice for shale and gravel, floodwater from banks had torn.

A sudden shower of water, cold, had soaked him to the skin.
A drownpour unexpected, out of nowhere, caused a grin.
From his Akubras brim poured water, in a downward stream
and mist rose o’er the paddock as hot soil turned rain to steam.

But everywhere around him there was beauty, there was peace
and up above two eagles soared. A skein of magpie geese
with honking cries were heading north in V formation, like
a well drilled air force squadron embarking out on a strike.

He thought this place would do quite well – a place to hang his hat.
His children’s children could run wild, unfettered and look at
the beauty nature offered in real life not on TV,
learn yesterdays old skills which he would teach them willingly.

He named it Dilladerri – from the language of the tribe
of Ancient ones who long ago in this place did reside.
A heavily timbered place was the translation of the name
and thick covered with box and cypress, good for sheep not growing grain.

And so it was – it came to pass –for a good while at least.
His hat hung on a hat rack in this place of blessed peace
until the winds came blowing through - his life to disarrange,
the land continued slumbering, oblivious to change.




Maureen Clifford © 01/12