Blue Hills Pine

As I travel along Mawbanna Road I notice that the clouds – full, dark and moving at their own pace – add a certain moodiness to the day. I am transported to a world of pastoral landscape that is familiar and comforting; tamed and contained, yet sitting on the edge of mystery with the blue hills and forest reserve peeping in the distance. In one of the sap green, sodden paddocks an imposing pine has long established itself, solitary in the fertile earth that I know too well to be red, though not visible. Its presence leaves me with a sense of humbled awe as I gaze at its immense size and beauty; I contemplate its longevity, and my own status as a mere person passing through.