Spotted Gum (Corymbia maculata)
Back in 1987 I nick-named this tree "Big Spotty", the name seems to have stuck. The published height is 68 metres, and my measurements this morning are within one metre of that. South Brooman State Forest, near Batemans Bay.
This tree is growing on a rainforest margin. I've seen many of the giant trees of the state of New South Wales, and this individual is the most beautiful.
This poem was published around 25 years ago. It's about the spotted gum forests in the south coast of New South Wales. It's a fictional story of drinking too much beer at the bowling club at Batemans Bay. Meeting up with a couple of friendly locals who invited the drinker to stay overnight at their house at Depot Beach.
The poem has a botanical error. There's no Turpentine trees this far south. I got that wrong and felt very embarrassed when the poem was published.
Anyway, the poem is about the great beauty of these eucalyptus forests and the superb scenery of Depot Beach.
Depot Beach
we passed my crooked parked car
at the bowling club in Batemans Bay
in an afternoon of Melbourne beer
with strangers who invited me to their house
at Depot Beach
from the back seat
the sun strobed in the bridge girders
and looking upriver toward the fishing boats
were the unseen catches of big scaled silver bream
and rings of broken mirror water
the next conscious instant I was on a canyon highway
beneath a forty metre high forest on each side
and my simple minded driver said nothing
speeding through the most princely stretch
of the Princes Highway
an abrupt turn to the right to a dust road
cutting through a sixty year old logging site
where Blue Gums spread their silky new trunks
in an elegant rush across the yellowing sunset light
then down another dip by the cream of flowering turpentine
and the dark leaved Lilli Pilli that drivers barely see
I ate then slept like an old Spotted Gum log
dragged from the dark by long dead bullocks
and rose pale and sick to an aluminium rimmed window
and a deserted sunrise at Depot Beach
wrenching open the day
and tasting the salt of the warming sea wind
Spotted Gum (Corymbia maculata)
Back in 1987 I nick-named this tree "Big Spotty", the name seems to have stuck. The published height is 68 metres, and my measurements this morning are within one metre of that. South Brooman State Forest, near Batemans Bay.
This tree is growing on a rainforest margin. I've seen many of the giant trees of the state of New South Wales, and this individual is the most beautiful.
This poem was published around 25 years ago. It's about the spotted gum forests in the south coast of New South Wales. It's a fictional story of drinking too much beer at the bowling club at Batemans Bay. Meeting up with a couple of friendly locals who invited the drinker to stay overnight at their house at Depot Beach.
The poem has a botanical error. There's no Turpentine trees this far south. I got that wrong and felt very embarrassed when the poem was published.
Anyway, the poem is about the great beauty of these eucalyptus forests and the superb scenery of Depot Beach.
Depot Beach
we passed my crooked parked car
at the bowling club in Batemans Bay
in an afternoon of Melbourne beer
with strangers who invited me to their house
at Depot Beach
from the back seat
the sun strobed in the bridge girders
and looking upriver toward the fishing boats
were the unseen catches of big scaled silver bream
and rings of broken mirror water
the next conscious instant I was on a canyon highway
beneath a forty metre high forest on each side
and my simple minded driver said nothing
speeding through the most princely stretch
of the Princes Highway
an abrupt turn to the right to a dust road
cutting through a sixty year old logging site
where Blue Gums spread their silky new trunks
in an elegant rush across the yellowing sunset light
then down another dip by the cream of flowering turpentine
and the dark leaved Lilli Pilli that drivers barely see
I ate then slept like an old Spotted Gum log
dragged from the dark by long dead bullocks
and rose pale and sick to an aluminium rimmed window
and a deserted sunrise at Depot Beach
wrenching open the day
and tasting the salt of the warming sea wind