T R E E S

The dramatically devastating death of the majestic heritage-listed nearly 100 year old tree, 3-4 metres from residential buildings - madly murdered by wild winds on the edge of Ardoch`s Village Green was really remarkable because of no injury to human life and just one tiny window broken. It was memorably mourned by most of Ardoch`s 300 residents. After I related the news to ABC Radio`s Jon Faine for about 6 minutes, they immediately dispatched a camera crew from the newsroom........

Recently I came across some poems written by my marvellous Marge 22 years ago - wonderful words about a pine tree and perfect pine forest at at our previous "Prospect Hill Park " hone in Wandin North, just 10 minutes from lovely Lilydale. I`ve also added American author Joyce Kilmer`s well-known poem "Trees" often heard on radio sung by Richard Tauber and Paul Robeson.


The Pine Tree

I am but a small part of you. You are like me.
You too were transported from your environment to this new land.
You came, like me, to plant your seed in this new land.

We did not make the choice -it was made for us.
You were a seed in someone`s pocket - but more than that
You were a seed in a man`s heart and imagination.....

We came to this land as strangers - your seeds
are scattered by the winds.
You,in your mighty splendour give new depth of colour

to this ancient land. You, like me, am an intruder.
We came to this land not by choice - we were brought
here by necessity to survive.

My need of you is greater than life. You are life......
My life...to me you are the old and the new
I too have given birth to new life and learned

to love this new land. Your vast branches and rough
crusty trunk deep[ with colourand smell, and your
tears of resin bring me back to size.....

I am nothing without you...


Mother Pine

You stand tall and proud - your peak soars to the sky.
Your arms spread wide to protect your root system.
You are shy,yes, you vevever shed your gown

You only drop your needles one by one.
You are always perfumed, always ready to dance
and sing in case the wind blows.

You only make music with your upper half -
You drop your cones...you groan, you creak - you
groan, you creak....

This is your way to ask me to look at you...
"Look at me -look at me you say" and I do
You spread your domain with a coloured mist

And with it you engulf you. If you would have me,
Mother Pine when I am no more
My ashes I would give to your bosom.


Marge Greenberg February 1986



I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree,
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth`s flowing breast,

A tree that looks at God all day and lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear a nest of robins in her hair,
Uoun whose bosom snow has lain who intimately lives with rain

Poems are made by fools like me, but only god can make a tree.

Joyce Kilmer


`till next time - about 7 - 10 days.....