As a recent arrival to Victoria from Christchurch, I’m still
a little apt to think of natural disasters; and this morning, as I sat in the
silent, serene Mount Macedon gardens of Tieve Tara, I couldn’t help trying to
imagine the place razed to the ground by bush fires.
This is exactly what happened on February 16, 1983 – Ash
Wednesday - now one of Australia’s most well-known bush fire events. That
tragic day, fires swept across Victoria and South Australia, killing 75 people
and causing widespread property-related damage – in Victoria alone, that was
estimated to be over $200-million in damage.
Most of Macedon and much of historic Mount Macedon
(northwest of Melbourne) and just 20 minutes from where I’m now living, was
razed to the ground, including many heritage listed 19th century
mansions and famed gardens. Tieve Tara
was one of those.
Originally part of an extensive property bought by W.
Christian in 1854, it was purchased by George Grantham in 1907 and the original
house was built on the present site. It then passed into the hands of C. Arthur
Cooper in 1937, before it was destroyed by fire in 1962. A new home was built
and that was destroyed in the 1983 Ash Wednesday blaze, just after it had been
purchased by John and Dawn Wade.
They
rebuilt and stayed at the property until the current owners, John and Judith
Brand, purchased it in 1995. They’ve made extensive alterations to the
partially destroyed gardens and with its majestic old trees, huge garden beds,
ponds, lakes, walkways, bridges and bog gardens, it’s now one of a number of
Mount Macedon gardens often open to the public.
It’s a peaceful place now but this morning when I visited, I
couldn’t help reflecting on the brutal potential of Nature. The Christchurch earthquakes have shown me
that none of us is ever guaranteed complete protection from that brutality. We
may enjoy the beauty that surrounds us – and we’d be silly not to – but it’s a
fragile façade. We never know when
things will alter, when our lives will be changed forever.
We all bounce back of course - eventually- but it seems
important to me to remember Nature’s tragedies, if only to all-the-more
appreciate what surrounds us.
Tieve Tara is now heading into winter. The last of the
golden and scarlet leaves are clinging to the skeletal tree branches and it’s
quiet, still and damp. As grand as any garden is though, I often find that the
true beauty sits within the details – the curling birch bark; a rippled trunk;
a forgotten bird’s nest high above; the magpies marauding the strawberry tree; the stark reflections in the still lakes; one
golden leaf on dark , wet twigs, determined to be noticed.
