Armadale, Melbourne – Victoria

When you stand in High Street, Armadale – constantly written about as the epitome of contemporary style and one of Melbourne’s premier blue chip areas – it’s hard to imagine it when it was first settled in the 1850s. Back then, it comprised market gardens and nurseries with a few housing allotments against a bush backdrop.

History notes that it wasn’t until the 1880s, that the boom years came with the first trains into the area. Then, the land was sub-divided for commercial and residential development and by 1890, High Street was populated by bootmakers, tailors, dressmakers, milliners, wheelwrights, blacksmiths, green grocers, upholsterers, iron mongers and the like – a far cry from today’s stylish fashion boutiques and the plethora of Persian rug shops, antique stores, nail and hair boutiques and bridal parlours that line the main Armadale thoroughfare; and the millions of dollars’ worth of high-end cars that park there.

I stayed in Armadale in December 2017-January 2018. I drove into the cool, leafy, tree-lined residential streets, parked my car outside the villa where I was staying and spent the next three weeks walking and photographing. I fell in love with so much of the residential architecture – the huge old homes that lined the streets – usually tucked away behind trees and high brick walls and impenetrable gates – but just enough visible to pique my interest and set me wondering about some other grand lifestyle.

I slipped over into neighbouring Toorak – long recognised as Melbourne’s top suburb – and into adjoining Malvern, Hawthorne and Prahran; all of them known for their expensive real estate. And in every street, I found a house that, externally at least, set me to dreaming and to wondering what it might be like inside.

I’ve always loved big houses and it was only a matter of time before I found a way to explore further – albeit via a computer. Turns out it’s relatively easy to get a glimpse inside many of these enormous, multi-million dollar homes – you just look the address up on the Internet and if they’ve been sold within the last decade, there’s usually a record of transactions, often with real estate photographs supplied. Much less satisfying than an actual house tour but enough to give you a hint of the interior of a $14-million home you wouldn’t otherwise see inside. And yes, I did feel like a nosy pauper – but only for a very short time.

Contrary to (my) expectations, Armadale is also a suburb of apartment blocks – new and old. Its proximity to central city has always made it a popular place to live and I liked the way apartment blocks of all ages sat comfortable and appropriately, side-by-side with top-dollar houses – integrated, appealing.

 Armadale is sited 7 kilometres southeast of Melbourne’s central business district on what was once part of Wurundjeri land. The 2016 census indicated a population of around 9,000 residents; and it was named after Armadale Sutherland, in Scotland, where the 15^th Premier of Victoria, James Munro was born.

It’s a pleasant place to be – from a residential point of view; but the neighbour’s don’t seem that neighbourly nor trusting, tucked away as they are behind their impenetrable high walls and gates with security cameras and microphones to see ‘who’s knocking.’ I guess it’s one way to keep unsolicited ‘doorknockers’ away from your actual door. 

And I certainly did feel  SECURE.

But there’s also something about the pristine, rigidly maintained streets and sections that left me cold. For all the fabulous old architecture, for all the high fashion, expensive, designers, bridal boutiques, antiques (expensive) and posh restaurants, I found these wealthy suburbs lacking in character -  no graffiti to speak of, no rough edges, very few book shops, no grunge, no mess....it's all a bit sanitised for me and my photographic eye. I prefer places that are bit more rough around the edges. Places more ordinary.

Places that encourage people to lives with gusto and colour.

Nature

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 19^th 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.

www.gardensoftievetara.com.au