Tag Archives: Yallambie Park

Pirates of the North East Link

Legend has it that a dozen years or so before the founding of Melbourne, a South American pirate by the name of Benito Bonito took brief refuge at Port Phillip while on the run from the Royal Navy with the stolen “Treasures of Lima” in his hold. There in a cave at Pt Nepean it is said the pirate hid a fabulous hoard, sealing the entrance afterwards with an explosion of gunpowder. As you might expect from such a story, Bonito reportedly met his end soon after at the end of a rope hanging from an English yard arm but be that as it may, one thing is certain, the so called “Lost Lima Treasure” was never seen again.

Many doubted the origins of the tale and indeed whether Bonito had ever been anywhere near Port Phillip but the story persisted, gaining some currency 20 years later when a man turned up in the new settlement at Melbourne claiming to have been a cabin boy on Bonito’s pirate ship. Sporting a map tattooed onto his arm as a supposed proof of the existence of the pirate treasure, the old sailor found willing ears and wishful thinkers in the infant township. The map itself was no doubt a fake, used to con free drinks from gullible patrons in Melbourne’s early shanties but it did fuel an ongoing hope in the improbable. Numerous gopher holes soon appeared in the sand dunes at Pt Nepean, the work of would be treasure hunters or what is more likely literally true, eternal optimists.

It was the visiting American writer Mark Twain who once said that the history of Australia “does not read like history, but like the most beautiful lies,” and further west along the Victorian coast another story, the legend of the “Mahogany Ship” sits somewhat nicely into this same category. It too involves a story of early map making and forgotten voyages into Australian seas, but in the case of the Mahogany Ship, the origins of the story are placed even earlier.

The legend of the Mahogany Ship revolves around the reported siting of an ancient shipwreck on the beach at Warrnambool in the 1840s. Contemporary eyewitness accounts described it as being of “antique design” of “hard dark timber – like mahogany” and sitting high in the sand dunes at a considerable distance from the high water mark. By the later years of the 19th century the shifting dunes had covered the wreck and its remembered location had been forgotten but by one count, 27 different eyewitness reports had been recorded and it was later speculated from these descriptions that the wreck had been a 16th century Portuguese caravel, lost on the south coast of Victoria during a voyage of discovery by Cristóvão de Mendonça in 1522. The theory goes that knowledge of the voyage and the maps made during it had been suppressed due to the Portuguese operating in what had then been deemed to be Spanish waters under the Treaty of Tordesillas, and that any other evidence was subsequently lost in the Great Lisbon earthquake of 1755. To further the story, an ambiguous French copy of a Portuguese map purporting to show a Great South Land, “Jave la Grande” survived at Dieppe and this has been used by advocates of the Mahogany Ship story as confirmation of its truth ever since.

World map by Nicolas Desliens, 1566.

Mendonca aside, there is no doubting the importance of having a good map to find your place in the world and when Captain Cook arrived on the east coast of Australia in 1770 without one, the uncharted Great Barrier Reef very nearly caused his ruin off the coast of north east Queensland. With HM Bark Endeavour holed and fast taking on water, disaster loomed as Cook showed an almost uncanny presentiment to find the mouth of the Endeavour River, the only place for miles around where he could possibly beach his ship for repair. Some adherents to the Mahogany Ship story have suggested that Cook’s ability to navigate through treacherous reefs to safety owed more to his knowledge of ancient Portuguese maps than his own 18th century sailing ability, a suggestion that almost certainly does Great Britain’s greatest navigator a disservice, but it makes for an interesting conspiracy theory all the same.

Bakewell era survey map of Yallambee.

Any study of the past inevitably involves map making and Yallambie is no exception. The Bakewells had a survey of their farm at Yallambee drawn up in the early 1850s, probably at a time when they were contemplating a return to England, and this map has appeared several times within these pages. It is a useful primary source and by comparing the information contained in it to the modern setting it is possible to draw some interesting conclusions about the layout of the Bakewell farm and the context of E L Bateman’s drawings within it and this, for the importance of the record, is worth affirming.

Bakewell plan imposed over the contemporary setting.
The Station Plenty, view I by Edward E L Bateman showing from left to right stables, kitchen, dairy and residences. (Source: National Gallery of Victoria)

As has been stated in a previous post, it was the belief of the Wragge descendant, Nancy Bush that the original Bakewell cottage was located where the tennis court was later built, the foundations of the house presumably ending up as the starting point of her family’s grass court surface.

SLV Daguerreotype of Yallambee showing trellis covered walkway. (Source: State Library of Victoria)

A second residential building stretched in a northerly direction up the slope and was connected to the cottage by a trellis covered walkway with a third building, marked as a kitchen wing on the survey map, placed at right angles at the far end. The location of these additional buildings is now largely buried under the floors of the Wragge era Yallambie Homestead.

The Station Plenty, view VI by E L Bateman showing relation of cottage and secondary buildings to the large dairy structure. (Source: National Gallery of Victoria)

A fence across the kitchen yard enclosed the southern end of a large building marked “dairy” on the Bakewell plan and this building was located where the smaller, present day Yallambie dairy stands to this day.

The Station Plenty, view III by E L Bateman showing in detail a curious access door below the floor of the dairy at the rear of the cottage. (Source: National Gallery of Victoria)

Another Nancy Bush belief held that the original cellar was located under the dairy and in Bateman’s Plenty Station View III which shows the southern end of this building behind the cottage, there would appear to be some sort of underground access into the side of the far building to confirm this.

Yallambie Homestead and Bakewell era stables, corner of Tarcoola Drive and Lambruk Court, c1970

North of the structure marked “hothouse” on the plan was a stable yard with a large stable block located on the eastern boundary and this building was still standing into the early 1980s when a modern mud brick home was built to replace it. Beyond the stables was a tool house and rick yard with a shrubbery and William Greig’s old hut and garden completing the picture within the immediate surrounds of the house.

The Station Plenty, view XII by E L Bateman showing what was probably William Greig’s old hut. (Source: National Gallery of Victoria)
Corridor B Lower Plenty Rd interchange. Map (detail) from North East Link Authority web site.

The North East Link Authority when it made its bombshell announcement at the start of August about smashing a Freeway through Yallambie, released their own map of their plans but anyone who has tried looking at this map has found that it remains frustratingly unclear about the real intentions of their strategic planners. Their web site is little more than a sales pitch which studiously avoids any attempt at revealing too many facts while the so called pop up community consultation meetings that have been staged at various locations across the community have been even less use, an equal part spin and sometimes downright disinformation. At one of these recent meetings it was stated that a diamond shaped corridor B interchange at Lower Plenty Rd would go under the river and not over it and that it would be located on the eastern side of Main Rd. Oh, but tellingly that, “nothing has been decided”.

The lads at North East Link seem to have taken a leaf out of Nietzche’s book who famously said, “There are no facts, only interpretations.” The unstated fact is that trucks using the anticipated interchange would certainly require a grade of no more than 4%, so it is an impossibility to take the road in a tunnel under the Plenty River while still arriving at a meaningful level to connect access roads to Main and Lower Plenty Roads. Taking a road under the Plenty River flood plain would also involve tunnelling through a geologically unstable water table requiring constant pumping throughout the life of the road. My interpretation of the proposal is that if built, (perish the thought) the intention of North East Link is to exit the tunnel near the corner of Binowee Avenue and Moola Close, Yallambie and cross the Yallambie Flats on an elevated flyover and that saying otherwise is just a further attempt to draw a smoke screen over the whole exercise. Should corridor B ever be given the nod, when it comes to the crunch the engineers would wade in, the spin doctors would stand aside and the practicalities and liabilities of their plan would finally be admitted.

Construction of elevated rail near Murrumbeena station. Picture: Nicole Garmston, Herald Sun 30 August, 2017

As the Herald Sun reported in a front page story on Wednesday, the full effect of a similar solution to another transport problem is only now beginning to be understood as the reality takes shape in Melbourne’s southeast.

Digitally altered image showing conjectural North East Link road crossing river flats at Yallambie.

Just picture for a moment a road of at least six, but more likely eight lanes stretching across the Plenty River flood plain, but if you can’t, here’s a digitally altered image of a picture I took of the landscape three years ago to give you an idea.

Proposed corridor B route through Yallambie and North East Link road interchange at Lower Plenty.

And just for good measure, the survey map used above but this time with corridor B splashed onto it in all its glory. Absurd as it might look, I think it is likely to be one of the more truthful representations of this unlikely proposal up to date. It’s a large file so click on it for the detail. You might even see your own roof somewhere in there.

It is part of an obvious attempt not to reveal too many facts about any of the proposed routes of North East Link before a final announcement is made later in the year. The late inclusion of corridor B within the proposal I think has a lot to do with the perceptions of Yallambie’s place in the world, or at least perceptions of the suburb in the eye of the authorities.

Melbourne’s road network with proposed North East Links from RA, September, 2017.

In the September edition of “RA”, the magazine of the Royal Automobile Club of Victoria, there is a four page article detailing the North East Link proposal complete with a generalised map by way of illustration. Interestingly the article states that “broadly, NELA has been looking at three possible routes for the proposed freeway,” going on to explain what in effect constitute the options for corridors A, C and D. The route for corridor B through Yallambie doesn’t rate a mention. The implication is that in real terms, corridor B serves the same business model as corridor C but that the Yallambie/Lower Plenty route has been belatedly included as something slightly easier to digest than the unpalatable Eltham option. I expect most people who heard about Yallambie as an alternative to the Eltham route last month had to then go and look up Yallambie on a map because in cartographical terms, when it comes to your place in the world, it’s all about where you draw the line.

Melbourne’s road network with missing links from Vicroads publication “Linking Melbourne”, February, 1994.

If you drive along the top end of Bell Street in West Heidelberg today, an enormous apartment block is right now fast reshaping the landscape, sitting there like a latter day QE2 beached on top of the ridge. This apartment block carries the moniker “The Ivanhoe” in large, friendly letters emblazoned across its Upper Heidelberg Rd frontage and the building has been described by the property developer as being located in the suburb of Ivanhoe. The project website, obviously aimed at an overseas market, describes the suburb of Ivanhoe as “a sanctuary of leafy green streets, parklands and river walks with a strong sense of community and belonging.” The thing is, this description belies its location on the west corner of busy Bell Street and Upper Heidelberg Road. The location of “The Ivanhoe” is actually West Heidelberg, or at best Heidelberg Heights, to use the jargon of real estate agents. The border of the suburb of Ivanhoe ends at Banksia Street but it seems nobody stumping up the money to live in one of these apartments wants to wake up one day and find them self suddenly living in unfavoured West Heidelberg. The solution, just move a line on the map. Do you think anyone will notice?

The ‘Ivanhoe’ Apartments taking shape at the top of Bell Street, West Heidelberg, September, 2017.

North East Link obviously think nobody will notice when it comes down to the nitty gritty of moving lines around a map of their proposed corridors. It’s all about what you reckon you can get away with. The State Government has vowed that one of these suggested routes will have traffic thundering through it in the early 2020s but like Benito Boninto rampaging up and down the Peruvian coast, the Pirates of the North East Link aim to wreak havoc and destruction on impacted communities without so much as a by your leave. The explosion of gunpowder used in a cave at Pt Nepean will be nothing compared to what they have in mind. To them, communities and the people living in them are simply arbitrary boundaries – mere lines to shove around on a map wherever they want – an inconvenience to their plans best not discussed within delicate hearing.

The story of the 16th century Mahogany Ship and the presence of Captain Cook on the east coast of Australia in 1770 long ago entered the blurred line between historical fact and legendary fiction but in the years to come, how will we look back on the Pirates of the North East Link and the last months of 2017? Will the anger and bitterness that these road proposals raised be remembered or will their legacy live on in history as a postscript to the main story, the forgotten doodles in a road planner’s imagination?

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The Baron who pined

From the hanging gardens in Babylon and the capabilities of the very capable Brown of Great Britain, garden fashions have come and gone like the seasons, to be remembered now like the weeds in a Bangay box hedge. 19th century Australia was no exception to this rule and in 1865, the English nurseryman John Gould Veitch wrote while visiting Victoria that there had grown up in the colony “a very decided spirit for the introduction of any novelty which may be likely to prove of use or ornament to the gardens of the colony.”

"We’ve all seen the presence or former presence of colonial homes marked in country Victoria." The colonial home "Buda" in Castlemaine marked by its historic garden, January, 2017.
“We’ve all seen the presence or former presence of colonial homes marked in country Victoria.” The colonial home “Buda” in Castlemaine marked by its historic garden, January, 2017.

There were many novelties to distract Victorian gardeners but of all of them, it was the craze for collections of pine trees, or pinetums as they were sometimes known, that has left the greatest mark on our millennial landscape. We’ve all seen the presence or former presence of colonial homes marked in country Victoria by stands of tall conifers, sometimes long after the settlers and sometimes the homes themselves have vanished. Collecting conifers was for a while a fashion in 19th century Victoria and no garden of any consequence in the colony could be said to be ever truly complete without its own resident selection of trees.

“Floraville”, the Bakewells’ garden at Yallambee Park was already well established before this coniferous craze properly kicked off but Thomas Wragge, who adopted Yallambee in the 1860s and who purchased the property in 1872, appears to have been well placed to take over at least in spirit where the Bakewells maybe left off.

Homestead photographed through the pines from the stand point of the former site of "Old Harry's" Yallambie Cottage in 1995.
Homestead photographed through the pines from the stand point of the former site of “Old Harry’s” Yallambie Cottage in 1995.

The background to this story has been shrouded by the passage of time but as mentioned in the previous post, the Yallambie identity “Old Harry” Ferne who lived on the river bank at Yallambie in the 1970s believed anecdotally that the pine trees that then surrounded his home were sourced from Victoria’s first Government Botanist and director of the Royal Botanic, Baron Ferdinand von Mueller. Winty Calder, writing in “Classing the Wool and Counting the Bales” repeats this legend but also speculates about the origins of the story, observing that:

“…von Mueller frequently gave seeds and plants to people. However, it is more likely that the Bakewells were the recipients of von Mueller’s plant material, during the period 1857-1873, than was Thomas. During those years von Mueller distributed many plants to public institutions and to private individuals, but he claimed in 1865 that ‘the distribution of plants to private gardens has been very limited and in reciprocation only’. Unfortunately the National Herbarium in Melbourne apparently now holds little of von Mueller’s correspondence with private individuals, such as Thomas Wragge or the Bakewells, or notes relating to associated exchange of plant material. But Thomas Wragge did gain possession of Yallambie two years before von Mueller ceased to be Director of the Botanic Gardens, even though he continued as Government Botanist. Before 1873, Thomas could have continued a plant exchange begun with the Bakewells, and it is not impossible that such an exchange might have continued for a few years after 1873…”

Even without a triplane, the “Green” Baron of Colonial Victoria certainly seems to have got around a bit. Public gardens were laid out at many goldfields centres with places like Ballarat, Bendigo, Castlemaine and Kyneton all receiving large numbers of trees and seeds for their Botanic Gardens from von Mueller. Indeed, a visit to a public garden in any reasonably sized town in country Victoria today will usually turn up at least a few trees with a claim to some sort of von Mueller provenance, with many of these trees being pines, araucarias or otherwise coniferous in nature.

Baron Sir Ferdinand von Mueller, KCMG, chalk lithograph c1880. (Source: State Library of Victoria).
Baron Sir Ferdinand von Mueller, KCMG, chalk lithograph c1880. (Source: State Library of Victoria).

Baron Sir Ferdinand von Mueller, KCMG came to Australia in 1847, arriving in Victoria in 1851. In 1853, Lieutenant Governor Charles La Trobe appointed him to the newly created role of Victorian Government Botanist and from 1857 he was also the Director of Melbourne’s Botanic Gardens. Mueller travelled widely throughout Victoria on prolonged field trips and on just one jaunt into the hitherto unexplored Buffalo Mountains and Southern Gippsland, he covered 1500 miles and added 936 new species to the Victorian plant list.

From the very beginning of his directorship, (or should that read dictatorship), of the Gardens, von Mueller saw the Gardens as an important collecting and distribution centre for plants and seeds throughout the new colony. During the period 1857-8 alone, the record states that no fewer than 39 public institutions and 206 private applicants received plants from von Mueller’s department, with 7120 plants and 22,438 packets of seeds being distributed and 57 gardeners receiving live cuttings.

With these numbers in mind it seems to me very possible that von Mueller might well have supplied plant material to the Bakewells in the 1850s, possibly in a reciprocal exchange. The Bakewells had established their garden in the early 1840s and by the mid-1850s it was well established and in a good position to take part in such an exchange. Furthermore, from the first days of settlement, Robert Bakewell conducted the garden at Yallambee as an early and successful experiment in Victorian Acclimatisation, the colonial principles of which the Baron was a well-known and early active supporter.

John Bakewell, 1807-1888 (Source: Early Pioneer Families of Victoria and Riverina, Alexander Henderson, 1936)

Another point worth considering is that when it came to approach, plants were not the only thing von Mueller was known to cultivate. He cultivated working relationships with people of consequence and was often rewarded handsomely for it. Von Mueller collected titles throughout his life like they were going out of fashion with the “Sir”, “Baron” and the “von” parts of his name being all titles that were added to his name during his lifetime. Not only were the Bakewells well-connected by religious and familial ties to the Howitts and through them to the wider cultural elite of Melbourne, but “Yallambee Park” had been acknowledged within intellectual circles with several internationally publicized descriptions.

Edward La Trobe Bateman, NLNZ
Edward La Trobe Bateman, (Source: National Library of New Zealand).

Edward Latrobe Bateman, whose association with the Station Plenty (Yallambee) has been recounted in considerable detail previously in these pages, is another contender for a Mueller connection at Yallambee. He had been described as a “splendid artist” by von Mueller and at the Intercolonial Exhibition of 1866 which Mueller helped arrange, Bateman decorated a Great Hall and a Rotunda. Significantly, Bateman also found considerable later success as a garden designer of both public and private gardens. Obviously these people were all moving within the same circles.

The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view I by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Distant view of station with cattle in foreground.
The Bakewell brothers Yallambee, view I by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. (Source: National Gallery of Victoria).
YALLAMBIE_LSE3a
Thomas Wragge’s Yallambie, c1900. (Source: Bill Bush Collection)
Moola Close near the entrance to Yallambie Park, 1978. In the words of "Old Harry" Ferne quoted in a newspaper in 1982: “When I arrived in the area there was a forest of trees. Now there’s a forest of houses.”
Moola Close near the entrance to Yallambie Park, 1978. In the words of “Old Harry” Ferne, quoted in a newspaper in 1982: “When I arrived in the area there was a forest of trees. Now there’s a forest of houses.”

Thomas Wragge by contrast was a farmer and although he would in time achieve pastoral success and considerable economic wealth, it has not been suggested that he moved within the same creative or intellectual associations as Bateman, or of the Bakewells and Howitts.

At any rate, whatever the origins of the Yallambie tree scape and whether Wragge inherited the genesis of the collection from the Bakewells, it seems clear now that Thomas and his family enjoyed the trees as they reached maturity at the end of the 19th century and that they probably continued to add to it up to and into the 20th.

Remains of Ferguson's pinetum at Mt Eagle, 1929, photographed by C R Hartmann. (Source: National Library of Australia).
Remains of Ferguson’s pinetum at Mt Eagle, 1929, photographed by C R Hartmann. (Source: National Library of Australia).
Remnant pines at Mt Eagle, 1929, photographed by C R Hartmann. (Source: National Library of Australia).
Remnant pines at Mt Eagle, 1929, photographed by C R Hartmann. (Source: National Library of Australia).

In the 19th century plant collectors achieved fame as they combed the continents in search of new pines and no gardener was considered worth his salt without an ability to provide his patron with a collection of at least some description.

At nearby Eaglemont, where elm trees were once saved at the expense of those in Yallambie, the forester William Ferguson planted a great pinetum, the largest in the colony, on the summit of “Mount Eagle” for J H Brooke as a prelude to a grand estate envisaged for that place. The first curator of the Geelong Botanic Gardens, Daniel Bunce visited in 1861 and recorded that “under the skilful management of his gardener Mr Ferguson”, Brooke had accumulated “the largest number of conifers of any establishment in the colony”. The house was never built and Ferguson left the project in 1863 with Brooke himself leaving for Japan four years later. However, in the 21st century at least some of Brooke’s trees remain, hidden away inside the private gardens of wealthy Eaglemont homes, proof of the enduring nature of the grown landscape and especially the legacy of 19th century pinetums.

At Yallambie the Bakewell/Wragge conifer collection survived well into the 20th century and its condition was intact enough to draw comment from Old Harry in the 1970s and 80s. Over the years many landscape reports and surveys were written identifying its importance, first by Heidelberg City Council and then, after 1994, by Banyule City Council. One of the first but certainly not the last of these reports “Plenty River & Banyule Creek” by Gerner Sanderson Faggetter Cheesman was published in October 1983 and noted that:

“The introduced species planted adjacent to the homestead, Yallambie, also require thoughtful management, not because of any problem they create, but rather because of their cultural importance. The planting here reflects past fashions of the Victorian era. Tall, dark foliage plants such as Pinus spp., Araucaria spp., planted quite randomly are all in fair condition…”

Old Harry had recently moved into a new home in Tarcoola Drive when that report was published but a few years later another report (previously quoted here) was delivered by Loder & Bayly, Marily McBriar, the recommendations of which in part read:

Lawn south of the house in 1984. The massive pinus on the left of picture upended down the slope one night a decade ago, its fall heard throughout the neighbourhood and sounding like "a steam train rushing by in the night."
Lawn south of the house in 1984. The massive pinus on the left of picture upended down the slope one night a decade ago, its fall heard throughout the neighbourhood and sounding like “a steam train rushing by in the night.”
A dead pinus standing between two Araucarias south of the house, 1998.
Another dead pinus standing between two Araucarias south of the house, 1998.

“An area which requires protection and sensitive management. Conservation of important historic plants, eg. conifers, and partial reconstruction of farm elements…”

More than 30 years later the value of these reports and others like them would seem to be only in the ongoing evidence they provide of what Council hasn’t managed to deliver over time. One by one and sometimes more than one the trees of the pinetum have gone to pot, collapsing sometimes in spectacular fashion. In the last 20 years alone I have by my own count seen more than a dozen of these trees vanish and, with the exception of the trees in a few private gardens, they have not been replaced.

All the same, the list of old plantings that remain today in Yallambie Park and within private gardens nearby still manages to read like some sort of pine growers’ plant catalogue. The list includes Araucaria bidwilli (Bunya Bunya Pine), Araucaria cunninghamii (Hoop Pine), Callitris glaucophyla (Murray River Cypress Pine), Cedrus deodara (Himalayan Cedar), Chamaecyparis funebris (Funeral Cypress), Cupressus lusitanica and Cupressus lusitanica glauca (Mexican Cypress), Cupressus macrocapa (Monterey Cypress), Cupressus sempervirens (Italian Cypress), Cupressus torulosa (Bhutan Cypress), Pinus canariensis (Canary Islands Pine), Pinus nigra var maritima (Black Pine), Pinus pinaster (Maritime Pine), Pinus pinea (Stone Pine) and Pinus radiata (Monterey Pine). As an exercise in botanical history, this list which was sourced from several of the more recent Banyule Council studies, is a tribute to the surprising longevity of some of these species at Yallambie and a memorial to the garden in which they once stood.

A novel approach to a declining tree at the former Botanic Gardens, Smythesdale, in country Victoria, January, 2017.
A novel approach taken to the problem of declining tree health in the pinetum at the former Botanic Gardens, Smythesdale, in country Victoria, January, 2017.

Garden fashions have come and gone and the popularity of pines within an Australian river environment long ago lost their allure. At Yallambie, in spite of the recommendations contained within numerous commissioned reports, exotic plantings have given way to a native landscape.

Council contractor fighting a losing battle with a whipper snipper on the bicycle path in Yallambie Park in front of the ruinous pinetum, February, 2017.
Council contractor fighting a losing battle with a whipper snipper on the bicycle path in Yallambie Park in front of the ruinous pinetum, February, 2017.

Following classification of the Yallambie landscape by the National Trust in 1998, Banyule Council has consistently argued that the classification holds no legal status and that the Council is under no obligation to conserve any of the historical elements within or adjacent to Yallambie Park.

The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view XI by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. View of garden with cypress and fence.
Cypress planted by Robert Bakewell on the river bank, view XI by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. (Source: National Gallery of Victoria).

As if to follow this cue, vandals imposing their own agenda once attacked one of Robert Bakewell’s Cypresses on the river bank, leaving the tree in a shockingly ringbarked state. The tree took months to die in a process that was heartbreaking to watch. A similar end was suffered by the 400 year old “Separation Tree”, a River Red Gum in the Royal Botanic Gardens that suffered two ringbarking attacks before its final demise a couple of years ago, leaving garden lovers and history buffs equally appalled.

The "Separation Tree" in the Royal Botanic Gardens, c1907. From an Edwardian postcard, (Source: State Library of Victoria). An impromptu crowd gathered under the tree on 15 November, 1850 to hear the proclamation that officially separated the Colony of Victoria from New South Wales.
The “Separation Tree” in the Royal Botanic Gardens, c1907. From an Edwardian postcard, (Source: State Library of Victoria). An impromptu crowd had gathered under the tree on 15 November, 1850 to hear the proclamation that officially separated the Colony of Victoria from New South Wales.

The late, lamented Separation Tree was already well over 200 years old when von Mueller began his directorship in 1857. In 1873 however, a year after Thomas Wragge completed his purchase of Yallambie, the Baron was summarily sacked from his position at the Gardens. It was felt within some quarters that von Mueller was more concerned with the science of plants than the business of creating a pleasure gardens for the leisured elite of Melbourne.

During his tenure Mueller had urged the establishment of a plantation of conifers at the Gardens, its purpose supposedly being to demonstrate the usefulness of the forestry industry to Victoria. Numerous trees remain from Mueller’s pinetum and can be found on the Garden’s Hopetoun and Hutingfield Lawns today but the humiliation of his situation was almost too much for a Baron to bear. After his dismissal legend has it that Mueller never again set foot inside the Gardens, pining like Adam outside the Gates of Eden.

William Guilfoyle, 1888. (Source: Royal Botanic Gardens, Melbourne).
William Guilfoyle, 1888. (Source: Royal Botanic Gardens, Melbourne).

The work of his replacement, Mueller’s protégé the young William Guilfoyle, is now mostly the landscape we see at the Royal Botanic Gardens today. After 1883 Guilfoyle remodelled Mueller’s pinetum, changing it from regimented avenues of trees to strategically placed specimens which survive in the Gardens today as signature trees. Von Mueller’s approach had gone out of fashion, his legacy dead seemingly like the Dodo.

Contemporary reports suggest that Von Mueller’s demise was the result of the lack of fountains and statues installed at the Gardens under his watch, the absence of which was keenly felt by the Melbourne masses who had a seemingly insatiable thirst for such things.

Statue of Baron von Mueller at Melbourne's Royal Botanic Gardens. (Source: State Botanical Collection, Royal Botanic Gardens, Melbourne.)
Statue of Baron von Mueller at Melbourne’s Royal Botanic Gardens. (Source: State Botanical Collection, Royal Botanic Gardens, Melbourne.)

Ironically, if you step off the tan and into the gardens today, one of the first things you may see hidden behind the neighbouring shrubbery outside the National Herbarium of Victoria, is a small statue of the good Baron himself. It was installed there in 1984 to mark 150 years of settlement, its presence in the Gardens seemingly illustrating a point. When it comes to gardening, if you wait long enough, inevitably you reap what you sow.

The Pied Piper of Yallambie

He was known locally as “Old Harry” and in the conservative pre-Whitlam era ’60s, Old Harry Ferne was something of a Yallambie eccentric. The stories that surrounded Harry were legendary and as he assured his listeners, they were all true. Well, mostly. A square peg in a round hole. You might say that they broke the mould when they made Old Harry.

The old pumping house looking towards the river bank.
The old pumping house looking towards the river bank.

Harry Ferne lived in a one room cottage on the banks of the Plenty River. He was a relative or maybe a sometime friend of the Temby family at Yallambie Homestead. Nobody was really quite sure exactly. He moved into a cottage in the garden on the river flat below the Homestead in 1968 and stayed there for more than a decade, even in the face of increasing pressure from Heidelberg City Council to move him out. In a recorded interview made in the early 1980s Harry remembered that, “When I arrived in the area there was a forest of trees. Now there’s a forest of houses.” (Heidelberger, 2 June, 1982)

Harry's cottage, smoke drifting from the chimney and comfortable arm chair pulled out onto the verandah.
Harry’s cottage, smoke drifting from the chimney and comfortable arm chair pulled out onto the verandah.

Like a hermit at the bottom of the garden in the finest of English folly traditions, Old Harry was a bit of an enigma. He walked with a pronounced stoop that belied his clipped moustache and a somewhat understated military bearing. A “real gentleman” as one local described him but a man who was for all that, prepared to live outside of the mores of society. Local children from the nearby developing housing estate seemed drawn to him and “descended on him in droves, keen to fish for tadpoles in his water storage ponds,” or to simply spend time with this curious character with the mysterious past. In an era when children could spend as much time as they wanted with an older, unmarried man living alone in peculiar and reduced circumstances without anyone batting an eyelid, Old Harry and his stories became a magnet for juvenile gangs, the king of the kids in the Yallambie area.

Harry Ferne pictured with sketches and "his trusty dog Leo", published in "The Heidelberger" newspaper of 2 June, 1982.
Harry Ferne pictured with sketches and “his trusty dog Leo”, published in “The Heidelberger” newspaper of 2 June, 1982.

Harry’s Yallambie Cottage was a single roomed timber dwelling that had been built at the foot of the Yallambie escarpment sometime in the dim dark, far distant past, nobody could quite remember when. Maybe it was a re-erection of a Bakewell pre-fab, but who knows. Harry said, “When I took over the cottage, it was a ruin. No windows, no door, no water and no sewerage. Just possums in the roof, bees in two walls and a wombat under the floorboards.”

Harry set to work and cleaned up the ramshackle building, laying brick paving and redeveloping the remnant gardens surrounding the exterior.

The old pump house at Yallambie. From a Christmas card by Harry Ferne who lived in the gardener's cottage associated with this building in the 1970s.
The old pumping house and lone pine as drawn by Harry in the 1970s.

Harry was fascinated by the history of the area and especially the legend that Baron Ferdinand von Mueller had contributed to the Yallambie landscape. He would point out trees to interested listeners as possible contenders for a von Mueller provenance. Even in 1970 these trees were well over 100 years old and on one occasion Harry narrowly escaped with his life when a pair of trees from the Yallambie pinetum collapsed and nearly destroyed his house.

Harrry's fireside, "kettle always on the boil and a cup of tea in the pot."
Harrry’s fireside where an, “old kettle was kept continuously on the boil…”

The Yallambie Cottage was surrounded by a forest of these exotic trees and in the winter months the smoke from Harry’s fires hung low, trapped by their overhanging branches. Harry did a lot of his cooking on a barbecue in a half barrel outside but his cottage also housed a cast iron range where he made toast and where an old kettle was kept continuously on the boil for anybody who cared to stop by long enough to share a yarn and a strong cup of tea.

Harry’s cottage neighboured the nearby old Yallambie pumping house which in the farming era had been used to draw water up from the river for use in the outlying paddocks. Invoking the principle that possession remains nine tenths of the law, Harry claimed the pumping house likewise as his own, although ostensibly it was located on Heidelberg City Council land. This was Harry’s world. It was a place to spend time with friends both young and old. It was a place to watch the passing of the seasons and to stare at the reflections in the waters of the river. And it was a place to think about the past.

Harry’s was a naturally artistic nature and he spent hours in the fields sketching the surrounding river landscape. He was a friend of the Dutch sculptor Rein Slagmolen whose artists’ colony at the nearby former convent, Casa Maria, was an early feature of the pre subdivisional landscape of Yallambie. Harry also had friends in the theatre and the opera who probably wondered at what they had struck when they came to visit him in his rural realm.

"Casa Maria" painted by Prue Slagmolen, c1970, (Jonathan Slagmolen collection).
“Casa Maria” painted by Prue Slagmolen, c1970, (Jonathan Slagmolen collection).
The Yallambie cottage and the old pumping house, from a 1974 hand drawn Christmas card.
The Yallambie cottage and the old pumping house, from a 1974 hand drawn Christmas card.

Harry kept a car, an early model VW Beetle, but it didn’t get driven about much. Harry didn’t find much need to get behind the wheel or to leave the area. The Temby children and others kept their horses on the Yallambie river flats and it was the horses that Harry preferred to populate his drawings with.

"Harry's version of the Homestead" drawn in 1980 after he had moved from the cottage on the river flat into a new home in Tarcoola Drive. In this view, the stables are still standing adjacent to the water tower at the right of the picture.
“Harry’s version of the Homestead” drawn in 1980 after he had moved from the cottage on the river flat into a new home in Tarcoola Drive. In this view, the stables are still standing adjacent to the water tower at the right of the picture.

Harry kept an old concrete water trough near the cottage for the horses but when one enterprising young lad used Harry’s water colour paints to paint the trough an ultramarine blue, Harry was less than impressed.

In the summer months Harry harvested the fruit from the Yallambie orchards and in those days, there were many more trees than the few that remain today into the 21st millennium.

Pumping house, cottage and horses on the river flat, 1977.
Pumping house, cottage and horses on the river flat, 1977.

Pears, apples, loquats, figs, grapes and walnuts grew on the river flats in abundance but Harry also added to his crop by collecting baskets of blackberries from the vines that grew out of control along the river. Harry was a surprisingly good cook and the produce was baked into apple and blackberry pies and shared around the neighbourhood with friends and acquaintances. Throw in the occasional snared rabbit and Old Harry was virtually living off the land at Yallambie. “We’re 10 miles from the city, yet you would think we were 100 miles away,” he said. Every year on the 5th November a great bonfire would be kindled on the flats marking Guy Fawkes’ treasonous plot and “cracker night” would be celebrated with a great deal of noise and potatoes roasted in the embers of the fire.

There was no bath or shower in the Yallambie cottage and Harry’s ablutions were limited to a regular swim in the river. Toiletry arrangements involved a septic tank which Harry installed himself alongside the cottage but herein were sown the seeds to the eventual demise of his riverside rural idyll.

The cottage stood on the Plenty River flood plain. Three times in the 1970s Harry was flooded out and on one occasion he battled a surge of water that came up to his chest inside the house. Harry dug a deep 100 foot trench to the river and carted 10 tons of white sand onto the river flats to shore up the property and to protect it from flooding, but it was to no avail. The Melbourne and Metropolitan Board of Works wanted Harry gone, reasoning that every time the river flooded there was of a risk of Harry’s septic getting into the stream. In 1978 the matter went all the way to the Housing Commission and The Honourable Geoff Hayes, the State Minister of Housing.

Yallambie Park photographed in September, 1978, showing the relative positions of the old pumping house on the river flat at left and the Homestead on the hill. The cottage was at the foot of the escarpment in the trees behind the pumping house.
Yallambie Park photographed in September, 1978, showing the relative positions of the old pumping house on the river flat at left and the Homestead on the hill. The cottage was at the foot of the escarpment in the trees behind the pumping house.

In the face of this Harry finally resolved to buy a block of land in Tarcoola Drive bordering the derelict Yallambie Homestead stables. He paid about $5000 for his block and designed and built a home, putting many of his own details into the construction of the interior, everything from the blue slate floor to the leadlight chimney window, (courtesy of his friendship with Rein Slagmolen). It was a far cry from the Yallambie Cottage but Harry didn’t stop there, carving a garden into the steep slope at the back of his Tarcoola Drive address, slashing blackberries and replacing them with clusters of pampas grass and a jungle of ferns. Hundreds of blue stone blocks were introduced into the landscape with Harry erecting a flying fox rope pulley to man handle the rocks down the slope and into position. Brick paving and ponds were designed to create a Japanese style feel to the garden.

Harry's garden with stone paving and water features below the Yallambie escarpment, 1979.
Harry’s garden with stone paving and water features below the Yallambie escarpment, 1979.

Harry said, “I love the feeling of rocks and water. I want to achieve a harmony between man and nature. I don’t think I’ll ever actually finish the garden. It’s an ongoing evolutionary process.”

The old Yallambie pumping house photographed in a shambolic state near the end of its life in September, 1978.
The old Yallambie pumping house photographed in a shambolic state near the end of its life in September, 1978.

He never did finish. Time had moved on and “Old Harry” was now approaching an age befitting his moniker. Soon after moving into his new home, vandals burned the pumping house and the cottage to the ground on the river flats.

Harry said, “I don’t think I’ll ever shift out of Yallambie. It all depends whether I get married or not.”

The garden Harry built in Tarcoola Drive is now a ruin, his cottage and the pumping house little more than memory. The sobriquet “Harry’s” on a letter box of a house now the only pointer to the identity of its original owner.

Harry didn’t marry of course. He died 30 years ago from a coronary occlusion while on the Heidelberg Golf Course, proof if proof be needed that if you’ve gotta go, better to go while doing something you love.

Site of the old pumping house in Yallambie Park looking west, January, 2017. 150 year old Italian cypress and fig tree at right.
Site of the old pumping house in Yallambie Park looking west, January, 2017. 150 year old Italian cypress and fig tree at right.

But for all that there are some who still think that Harry was true to his word. At the setting of the sun as the shadows lengthen under the trees on the river escarpment, there is a very real feeling that maybe Harry never left Yallambie after all. It is a belief held by the current owner and visitors to the Tarcoola Drive house that Harry built. At the closing of the day, the spirit of Old Harry lives on.

YALLAMBIE PARK, river flat, 1997

A taste of honey

We have a sticky situation.

The bees have made themselves at home behind the shingled walls of our verandah. On warm days the honey they make has been known to drip out onto the deck below, or even back into the ceiling inside the house where a stain on the plaster took several thousand licks of paint to conceal. Other than that though they don’t seem to be doing much real harm, and with the old verandah looking a bit shonky these days, it may be that honey is the only thing holding the whole humongous hotchpotch upright. With bees in trouble on several fronts, to my mind they might as well stay where they are. Our friends the bees are in need of all the help they can get.

Shingled verandah photographed in better repair in 1995.
Shingled verandah photographed in better repair in 1995.

You’ve probably heard that there’s something wrong with bees. They are on the decline worldwide with parasites, loss of habitat, pesticides and the mysterious colony collapse disorder held largely to blame, yet bees have been buzzing around this island earth since a time before the dinosaurs. As a motif they have long been used by man to symbolize industry and orderliness, yet on an evolutionary scale, it has taken us the mere blink of an eye to bring bees in this modern age to their bees’ bended knees.

Napoleon prided industry and orderliness and bee-lieved himself to be an emperor to boot, (watercolour on ivory by J Parent).
Napoleon prided industry and orderliness and bee-lieved himself to be an emperor to boot, (watercolour on ivory by J Parent).

The experimental film director Godfrey Reggio introduced the Native American word “Koyaanisqatsi” to popular culture in 1982. In the Hopi language it means “unbalanced life”, but in the more than three decades since, the situation Reggio described in film has not changed. All over Melbourne right now, developers are smashing up gardens for multiple occupancy dwellings, tearing up farm land for new suburbs, all the while cynically leaving here and there an occasional geriatric gum tree or token strip of park to appease the regulators. It’s not much chop for the people but it’s tantamount to a desert landscape for bees.

Bee hive boufants from Koyaanisqatsi, (Godfrey Reggio, ©1983).
Bee hive boufants from Koyaanisqatsi, (Godfrey Reggio, ©1983).
"...there are now many other plants following the almonds into flower."
“…there are now many other plants following the almonds into flower.”

August was almond pollination season in the southern states of Australia. The two almond trees we have in our garden already have fruit on them, at least until the cockies cotton on to it, but in the natural order of things there are now many other plants following the almonds into flower. It highlights the importance of a diversity in flowering plants in the garden, an idea that has been promoted by bee activist and author, Doug Purdie, in books like “Backyard Bees”.

By contrast the monoculture farming techniques used up country creates Koyaanisqatsi of the highest order. These techniques offer bees rich sources of nectar for short periods, then nothing for the remainder of the year. Commercial production of almonds in the triangle between South Australia, NSW and north-west Victoria is a case in point and highlights the inherent dangers of these practices. It involves vast numbers of almond trees being grown artificially in a marginal landscape using lots of Murray River irrigation. Because there are few other trees in this area, truck-loads of bee hives are brought in from interstate every spring to assist in a pollination event which is is as surprising as it is unsustainable. Bees are brought from as far away as Queensland where worryingly a pest bee, the Asian Honey Bee, has recently been found. The Asian Honey Bee is believed to have been the original source of the parasitic mite, Varroa destructor which has caused so much damage to bee colonies around the planet. Australia remains one of the few places in the world where the destructor mite has not been seen but with the related Varroa jacobsoni already present on Asian honey bees around Townsville, the introduction of the destructor in the near future is now taken as a given. When that happens, it is farming practices like the almond pollination events of southern Australia that will make the spread of the mite across this island continent virtually unstoppable.

"Robbing a beehive": harvesting bush honey in the early years of the 20th century, central Victoria. Photograph by Lindsay G Cumming, c1910, State Library Victoria.
“Robbing a beehive”: harvesting bush honey in the early years of the 20th century, central Victoria. Photograph by Lindsay G Cumming, c1910, State Library Victoria.

The European bee so familiar to our gardens was introduced to Australia in 1822 and in the nectar rich regions of our flowering eucalypt forests it soon became firmly established. It is the heavy work horse of the pollination world, a typical hive containing about 80,000 bees. Native bees, of which there are about 2000 varieties, are by comparison smaller, generally solitary and produce less honey. To the early settlers with their peculiar idea of finders keepers, this great southern land where little bits of Europe seemed so easily to reinvent itself must have seemed like a land flowing with proverbial milk and honey. In due course it had to be admitted that the keepers weren’t the finders after all but while the milk comes in suburban cartons these days, at Yallambie the second part of that flow equation can be thought of as being quite literally true.

Bee boxes at the old Coghill home opposite the end of Jessop St, Greensborough, c1910, (Greensborough Historical Society picture).
Bee boxes at the old Coghill home opposite the end of Jessop St, Greensborough, c1910, (Greensborough Historical Society picture).

2. "Dr. Godfrey Howitt's garden" [sic]", SLV.
2. “Dr. Godfrey Howitt’s garden” [sic]”. Source: State Library of Victoria.
Bees were probably kept in this area from the early days and in the second of the State Library’s c1856 daguerreotypes of Robert Bakewell’s garden, a rectangular shape in a lower corner may be evidence of a bee box positioned at that time on the Plenty River flats. If this interpretation could be proved to be correct, then in would put the Bakewells at the cutting edge of apiarist technology at that time since bee boxes with removable combs, as opposed to the more traditional skeps, were only perfected by Lorenzo Langstroth from an earlier design at the start of the 1850s.

This portrait of Louisa Anne Meredith was her favourite which she described as "unadulterated vanity", (Allport Library and Museum of Fine Arts).
Louisa Anne Meredith, (Allport Library and Museum of Fine Arts).

Peter Barrett in “The Immigrant Bees”, (Springwood, 1995) quotes from Louisa Anne Meredith’s book “My Home in Tasmania” and uses her book as evidence of the Merediths’ bee keeping activities in Van Diemen’s Land in the 1840s. So the sight of bee boxes at Yallambee during Louisa’s 1856 visit would not, by association, seem to have been so out of place.

The Tembys kept bees during their tenure at Yallambie in the second half of the 20th century and a son of Ethel was still keeping bee boxes in Yallambie Park when we came to live here in the early 1990s. There were bees living inside a hollow oak in the Homestead garden at the time and I mentioned them to Ethel’s son, thinking they might be of use to him. “Yes, I can dispose of those feral bees,” he answered meaningfully. And so that was the end of that.

Bee box on the south lawn at Yallambie Homestead. Photograph from "Heidelberg Conservation Study, Part 1", by Graeme Butler, 1985.
Bee box on the south lawn at Yallambie Homestead. Photograph from “Heidelberg Conservation Study, Part 1”, by Graeme Butler, 1985.

The bees are still in the oak and have now spread to an elm. They may have been the original source of the bees in our verandah. At this time of year the garden is literally buzzing with the busy little blighters. The Pride of Madeiras in our garden are in bloom and truly live up to their axiom, “the bee flowers”.

The "bee flowers" at Yallambie, September, 2016.
The “bee flowers” at Yallambie, September, 2016.

The above is about as good as I could manage with my simple point and shoot camera but it has been a good spring and there are plenty of other flowers in the garden around which the bees have been plying their trade. Some time ago my father in law turned up with a new lens on his camera and took the following series of photographs:

zygomarguerite_daisydaisy

lavenderWhen seen up close in these pictures at a size not usually possible to our eyes, I like to wonder, ‘What goes on inside those little pin size heads?’ It’s all a question of scale and macro lens technology, but if you met one of these very alien looking little creatures up close, what sort of conversation might you have about their perspective on life? Do they know something we don’t know? Maybe you would find their space ships had been, to paraphrase Douglas Adams, “due to a terrible miscalculation of scale… accidentally swallowed by a small dog.”

"...but if you met one of these very alien looking little creatures up close, what sort of conversation might you have about their perspective on life?"
“…but if you met one of these very alien looking little creatures up close, what sort of conversation might you have about their perspective on life?”

Bees are known to forage up to 8km from their hives, even without their space ships, so the bees centrally located here at Yallambie are potentially now at work across the entire length and breadth of the City of Banyule. The Council doesn’t have any special planning laws restricting bee keeping in the community, providing all activities remain in accordance with the Apiary Code of Practice which requires the owner of hives to provide a nearby water source and also limits the number of hives and their location within urban environments. Bless them. I wonder if it insists on drinking straws for the bees as well?

Australia is a huge producer of honey and we actually produce more honey than our population of 23 million can consume. At the same time however we import honey into this country on a large scale. Australian honey is very pure and is therefore a valuable commodity on the world market. Not surprisingly therefore, cheap foreign honey is imported for the locals while the best home grown produce goes overseas. Ask any New Zealander about the cost of dairy produce in their country and you will hear a similar tale told.

For all of the problematic future facing our bees, they remain an integral part of the eco-system and the single most important link in our industrial food chain. All our crops are heavily reliant on their pollinating efforts but bees have been around a long time and over the passage of millennia have witnessed many changes. Whether they survive the current climate of change reflects on the ability of mankind itself to survive. So plant something flowering today and give the bees a helping hand. A world without bees would be quite simply a world without.

The busy bees
The busy bees

ON YOUR BIKE

“The journey of life is like a man riding a bicycle. We know he got on the bicycle and started to move. We know that at some point he will stop and get off. We know that if he stops moving and does not get off he will fall off.” (William Golding)

According to one survey, 43% of all Australians own a bicycle. It’s not clear whether that statistic counts every rusted machine parked with bent pedals at the back of every garage, or every bike gathering dust under a house across the nation, but one thing is pretty clear. There are an awful lot of bikes out there. Bike riding is big in the north east and in Yallambie, the history of cycling is probably a lot more extensive than people generally realize as they pedal around the neighborhood.

The late 19th century saw the world’s first “bike craze” and a proliferation in the number of bike makers. Some of them, like the Dux Cycle Co. of Little Collins St, Melbourne which employed 150 workers, were established locally. The Dux cause was helped when a Dux was used for the first Perth to Brisbane cycle ride in 1897, a distance of nearly 6000km.

Australia found itself literally in the mainstream of the world-wide bicycle boom as it emerged from the financial recession of the early 1890s and by 1897 there were over 150 brands of home grown and imported bicycles to choose from. Innovations such as the tubular steel frame, the ball bearing, roller bearing chain and pneumatic tyres were all products of advanced manufacturing techniques but in practice, any reasonably competent home handyman or bush mechanic could assemble or repair them. While bikes were comparatively expensive to buy they were ultimately a much cheaper alternative to keeping a horse and trap or even to buying regular rail tickets. As Jim Fitzpatrick observed in the introduction to “The Bicycle and the Bush”, his widely regarded book on the history of Australian pedalling, the bicycle: “required no food or water, was two or three times as fast as a horse or a camel, and did not drop dead from eating poisonous plants.”

Harry Wragge riding his bicycle at Yallambie on the Homestead road, south of the stableyard, c1895, (Bush collection).
Harry Wragge riding his bicycle at Yallambie on the Homestead road, south of the stable yard, c1895, (Bush collection).

In Yallambie, Henry Ernest “Harry” Wragge, (born 1880), the youngest son of Yallambie Homestead’s Thomas Wragge, was an early exponent of bike riding in this district. Harry had a life-long fascination with all things mechanical and is known to have owned a bicycle by May, 1896. (Calder: Classing the Wool and Counting the Bales, p145). The first Australian Cycle Show was held in March that year and it would be interesting to know if the teenage Harry convinced his parents to purchase a bike after attending the show.

Harry Wragge with his diamond frame, "safety" bicycle, photographed near the front door of Yallambie Homestead, looking towards the northern gate into the farm yard area, c1900, (Bush collection).
Harry Wragge with his diamond frame, “safety” bicycle, photographed near the front door of Yallambie Homestead, looking towards the northern gate into the farm yard area, c1900, (Bush collection).

A photograph in the Bush collection shows a young Harry riding his bike along the Homestead Road in front of the house garden on what is now the Lower Plenty end of Yallambie Rd and another shows Harry at a slightly later date, standing proudly alongside his pushbike in front of the Yallambie stable yard. Harry’s machine was a diamond frame, “safety” bicycle, a style first perfected by Humber in 1890 and known as the “safety” because of the ease and safety of riding one compared to the “ordinary” or “Penny Farthing” type. It is a design that, with few real modifications, has remained the most common bicycle design up to the present day.

Diamond Creek's music teacher, Ada Lawrey used her bicycle to deliver piano lessons throughout the district. (Source: E Tingman, The Diamond Valley Story by D H Edwards)
Diamond Creek’s music teacher, Ada Lawrey used her bicycle to deliver piano lessons throughout the district. (Source: E Tingman, The Diamond Valley Story by D H Edwards)

Another early rider was Ada Lawrey, the daughter of one of Diamond Creek’s first settlers and a music teacher who at the start of the 20th century used her bicycle to pedal widely around the district giving piano lessons. A photograph shows her inside the gates of her parents’ Diamond Creek home alongside a fine looking machine, complete with a bicycle luggage carrying valise attached to the frame, ideal perhaps for carrying her lunch box and fork, or maybe just a tuning fork.

Bike riders at Kent's Plenty Bridge Hotel, c1900.
Bike riders at Kent’s Plenty Bridge Hotel, c1900.

Cycling clubs were formed in many places and city dwellers travelled on bicycles to places near and far in the country side that were a refreshing change to the grime and factories of inner-city Melbourne. In several of the earliest extant photographs of the Plenty Bridge Hotel, bicycles are seen pulled up outside the building, evidence perhaps of the importance of the old hotel as a stopping place for travellers on the Plenty River on the road from Melbourne to Eltham and beyond.

Newspaper report from p10, "The Age", 15 April, 1907.
Newspaper report from p10, “The Age”, 15 April, 1907.

A 1907 newspaper report in “The Age” described a cycle race organized by the “League of Victorian Wheelmen” and promoted by the publican of the Plenty Bridge Hotel. The route followed country roads from the Plenty Bridge to Bundoora and back again over a “bad course” with “hilly roads and dangerous turns”. For the record, a Mr D Hall won the event, on a handicap.

When I surveyed my old bike at the back of the garage last week with this post in mind, it seemed like it too was starting with something of a handicap. It was purchased nearly a decade ago from a large supermarket chain, familiar to most people in this town, and looked like it was worth what I paid for it that day I went shopping with money for a loaf of bread and came home with a bike.

barnum_baileyMy thoughts strayed. ‘Whatever happened to the bike my father brought home as a rusted old frame “found in a paddock”?’ I spent weeks sanding and repairing that bit of scrap metal and then delivered newspapers from it on dark mornings throughout Rosanna. It later took me on trips as far afield as Bendigo and Ballarat and for a while it seemed indestructable but as I recall, died a sudden death one day as I rode home from Heidelberg Park with football boots dangling across the handlebars. The boots became entangled with the front wheel and, with the front wheel motion suddenly arrested, the rest of the bike and associated rider were destined to continue, the resulting Barnum & Bailey circus somersault a clown act to recall.

That’s what happened to it.

What chance today? In the end I wheeled out my wife’s old pushbike from the garage instead, a good looking, red “girl’s” version with no horizontal bar and streamers on the handlebars. The tyres were a bit perished but it had been a fine machine in its day although that day apparently had been some time ago.

“You’re not going out looking like that are you,” my wife said when she saw the overall effect of me sitting astride her glorious, red retro riding road machine in an outfit she said resembled a 1920s bathing costume.

“Why not? I forgive people wearing Lycra don’t I?”

“I’m glad he didn’t ask me,” said the boy not looking up from his iPhone.

“You don’t know what you’re missing. It’ll be just like Pokemon Go.”

Main Yarra Trail at the intersection with the start of the Plenty River Trail, July, 2016.
Main Yarra Trail at the intersection with the start of the Plenty River Trail, July, 2016.

TRAILING THE PLENTY RIVER:

The Plenty River Trail is a shared path that leaves the Main Yarra Trail near the confluence of the Plenty and Yarra Rivers in the south and follows the Plenty River valley to a point beyond the northern margins of Greensborough. The Main Yarra Trail is like a wide open highway compared to the Plenty River trail and gets commensurately more cycling traffic as a result.

Confluence of the Plenty and Yarra Rivers, July, 2016.
Confluence of the Plenty and Yarra Rivers, July, 2016.

As I approached the branch to the Plenty River Trail on a recent weekend now past, a tandem bicycle flew past me on a journey down the Yarra, its riders grinding away at the pedals on the level flood plain of the Yarra Trail to achieve a missile like velocity. ‘Cripes, I’d like to see them try that on up there,’ I thought to myself as I looked at the incline that is the start of the Plenty River Trail.

plenty_bike_map

“Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do,
I’m half-crazy all for the love of you.
It won’t be a stylish marriage –
I can’t afford a carriage,
But you’d look sweet upon the seat
Of a bicycle built for two.”

The Plenty Trail leaves the Main Yarra Trail at Viewbank at this point and rises quickly to the vicinity of the old Viewbank Homestead archaeological site, an ascent of about 30m where commanding views are to be had out across Bulleen and Templestowe. The day I was there a fine winter breeze was blowing and enthusiasts were flying a large model sail plane out over the valley. It was presumably radio controlled since like a boomerang, it kept coming back no matter how many times they tried to get rid of it.

Rural scenery at Viewbank Homestead historic site, July, 2016.
Rural scenery at Viewbank Homestead historic site, July, 2016.

Beyond this, the path crosses Banyule Rd and runs in a straight line alongside Hendersons Rd. It passes a pony club where it descends steeply to a point at the end of Martins Lane where, as mentioned previously, my wife’s great grandfather once kept a spectacularly unsuccessful chicken farm.

The Trail then crosses the Plenty River, the first of many crossings, and follows a route at the back of Heidelberg Golf Club between the Club and the River. For many years this was the “missing link” in the trail as the Golf Club and Council struggled to come to an agreement about the siting of the path and a bridge. After agreement was reached, the link was finally opened to riders and pedestrians in March, 2007.

Old Lower Plenty Road, Bridge and Plenty Bridge Hotel, c1957
Old Lower Plenty Road, Bridge and Plenty Bridge Hotel, c1957

Crossing the River again via the Old Lower Plenty Road Bridge adjacent to the former site of the Plenty Bridge Hotel, the Trail is then in Yallambie territory proper.

Plenty River in flood looking upstream towards the site of the old pump house (removed early 1980s) which had earlier replaced the windmill visible here.
Plenty River in flood looking upstream towards the site of the old pump house (removed early 1980s) which had earlier replaced the windmill visible here. (Bush collection).

It passes the Yallambie Tennis Club and the Soccer Ground before rounding out onto the Yallambie common at the next bend in the River. The well-remembered “Lone” Hoop Pine, oak trees, cypresses and remnant orchard are the neglected features of the National Trust Classified landscape that can be found here.

The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view XII by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Distant view of hut with creek in foreground.
The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view XII by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Distant view of hut with creek in foreground. (National Gallery of Victoria)

Beyond this are the locations of William Greig’s 1840 farm and William Laing’s Woodside (Casa Maria), the site of the latter being marked by several ancient Italian Cypress trees which can be seen standing on a ridge high above the River.

The path then splits in two and there is a choice of following it for some way on either side of the River, a relic of the days when the River marked the boundary between the Shires of Diamond Valley and Eltham and the two banks were under separate administrations. Today the whole of the Plenty River Trail falls within the Municipality of Banyule with Yallambie at its centre.

Up river, the Montmorency Football Oval on the eastern or “Monty side” covers the site of a former tip. Wonder in awe at a time when it was thought environmentally OK to use a river landscape as a tipping ground! The area is well maintained but if you look closely at the river bank below the oval you can see some evidence of its previous use at places where the bank is eroded.

River valley photographed from the Plenty River Trail opposite Montmorency Secondary College, July, 2016.
River valley photographed from the Plenty River Trail opposite Montmorency Secondary College, July, 2016.

After Montmorency Secondary College is passed, the Trail arrives at the Willinda Park Athletics Track where it becomes a single path on the western side of the River. On the eastern side, the factories on Para Rd show their backs to the River but even here wild life can be found. I stood looking from a distance at what I thought was a tree stump at the back of the factories, trying to make my mind up about what I was looking at. Then it moved and the kangaroo I had in fact been watching, hopped away and out of sight.

At what was formerly the northern most boundary of the old Montmorency Farm, Para Rd and the Greensborough/Eltham single track railway cross the River using separate bridges and here the Plenty River Trail appears for the moment to end abruptly in a residential court. The Trail is not well sign posted throughout its length but at this point it leaves you guessing completely about what course to follow next. The answer is to travel about 100m along Bicton St and resume the Trail at the far end.

At Poulter Reserve the Greensborough rail station can be accessed by riders who have had enough and want to return home via a train or cross to the looming ugly presence of the Greensborough Plaza for a café latte.

Further on, the Trail crosses the River again under the Main Street Bridge next to the remains of the old swimming pool that was built in the Depression within the bed of the Plenty River itself.

Cheltenham Cycle Club under the old Main Rd Bridge, Greensborough, 1897, (Pictures Collection, State Library of Victoria).
Cheltenham Cycle Club under the old Main Rd Bridge, Greensborough, 1897, (Pictures Collection, State Library of Victoria).

Lost history abounds here. A photograph of bicycle riders at the original blue stone bridge in 1897 is another reminder of the area’s historic popularity with riders. The original 1864 blue stone bridge was removed progressively from 1974 until 1983, its massive blue stone buttresses being turned into a barbecue on the corner of Main St and St Helena Rd above in what was surely a loss to local history but a win for sausages.

Old orchard scene showing Willis Vale Farm apple trees on Partington's Flat. (Source: Greensborough Historical Society).
Old orchard scene showing Willis Vale Farm apple trees on Partington’s Flat. (Source: Greensborough Historical Society).

A dinky little suspension bridge crosses to Whatmough Park on Partington’s Flat where the original farm, Willis Vale, was formerly situated until being burned out by a bushfire in the 1950s. Local football is played at many of the ovals along the River on any given weekend and the day I was at Partington’s, a DVFL game was in progress between St Mary’s and Epping. It might have been a reserves game but it was very popularly attended and an example of how I remember footy used to be played. The skills were of course a long way short of AFL standard but for all that, or perhaps because of it, I found it was a very enjoyable game to watch. Forget the “flood” of players up the ground, a feature of AFL football in the modern day.  I saw a bit of mud, a bit of biffo and a full forward who stayed rooted to the goal square, waiting for the ball to be kicked to him.

And further to the record, after trailing early, St Mary’s beat Epping 11.16 to 9.3.

"Goat track" leading to the Greensborough Bypass Trail from the Plenty River Trail, July, 2016.
“Goat track” leading to the Greensborough Bypass Trail from the Plenty River Trail, July, 2016.

Up-river from Partington’s, the Plenty River Trail passes under the Greensborough Bypass Road which crosses the River on an elevated roadway high above. A plane could fly under it. A Zeppelin could park under it. At this location there is an un-signposted “goat track” from Plenty River Dr at a point just about opposite Booyan Cres. The “goat track” is a mountain bike switch back but by successfully negotiating the mud for a short distance access can be gained to the Greensborough Bypass Cycle Path and thence to the Metropolitan Ring Rd Trail. By all reports you won’t find a single B-Double semi travelling in the outside lane.

"Batman Apple Tree" at Greensborough from "The Leader" newspaper April, 1910. (Picture by R G Brown, Museum Victoria Collections).
“Batman Apple Tree” at Greensborough from “The Leader” newspaper April, 1910. (Picture by R G Brown, Museum Victoria Collections).

Staying on the Plenty River Trail the path arrives at the so called “Batman Apple Tree” next to an easement below Corowa Cres and adjacent to the old Maroondah Aqueduct Pipe Bridge.

Early view of the Maroondah Aqueduct pipe bridge over the Plenty River at Greensborough, photographed by J H Henry, (National Library of Australia).
Early view of the Maroondah Aqueduct pipe bridge over the Plenty River at Greensborough, photographed by J H Henry, (National Library of Australia).

Nearby the Pioneer Children’s Cemetery holds the unmarked graves of children from the Whatmough and Partington families, early settlers on this part of the River. Not far beyond is the official end of the Plenty River Trail at the base of a flight of stairs leading down from Punkerri Circuit.

Official end of the Plenty River Trail below Punkerri Circuit, Greensborough, July, 2016.
Official end of the Plenty River Trail below Punkerri Circuit, Greensborough, July, 2016.

Although it is sign posted to this effect the trail is actually longer than its official 12.3km length and follows a path further along Dry Creek, the merry sound of water running nearby which surely belies its name. The track passes through a closed gate and along an unmade path to an easement running between Plenty River Drive and Mclaughlans Lane where the 520 bus to Doreen has a stop on Sugar Gum Blvd. This is the final end of the Plenty River Trail but the vicinity also marks the south eastern approaches to the Plenty Gorge Parklands, whose mountain bike adventure trails beckon more determined riders.

But that’s a whole other story.

Ouroboros

My wife’s parents’ fox terrier hated garden hoses.

With a vengeance.

Usually all you had to do was turn on a garden tap to set little Rosie a howling. A few weeks ago the dog was out in their garden and keeping uncommonly quiet. On investigation she was found sitting astride the end of the garden hose, the running sprinkler held firmly beneath her body where she could snap in a conquering and triumphant way at the end of the flowing water.

“Ol’ Rosie,” I said after being told this story. “She’s been after that hose for years. I guess she reckons now she’s finally caught it, she might have taught it a damned good lesson. Just like the dog chasing the moon in that movie, Dean Spanley.”

Title page and frontispiece from "My Talks With Dean Spanley", by Lord Dunsany.
Title page and frontispiece from “My Talks With Dean Spanley”, by Lord Dunsany.

Almost on queue and at the mention of Lord Dunsany’s story about reincarnation and the theme of the transmigration of souls, Rosie the dog in question, came in from the garden and to everyone’s great distress, foamed at the mouth, rolled over and died.

Right there in front of us.

Rosie the fox terrier the victor of the garden hose.
Rosie the fox terrier the victor of the garden hose.

Poor little Rosie. It soon became apparent that she had suffered a fatal snakebite, especially when signs of a battle and the mortal remains of a deadly Tiger Snake were found outside the next day. She was a plucky little terrier our Rosie, no doubt, but the timing of her demise was very strange. Maybe she will be reincarnated someday like the Dean in Dunsany’s book, but in her particular case with an inexplicable fear of snakes.

And garden hoses.

In Western medicine a snake is seen in the Rod of Asclepius, the ancient Greek symbol of the deity associated with medicine and healing, which is ironic given the dangers associated with some forms of snake bite. In Australia snake bite is an ever present danger of the summer months, particularly around river landscapes like those that exist along the eastern margins of Yallambie. One of the world’s most venomous snakes, the Tiger (Notechis scutatus) is an aggressive species although the availability of anti-venoms today means that the bite is usually manageable. They are all too common however along the rivers and I’ve seen several in our garden over time.

Sign on the Plenty River below Montmorency Park.
Sign on the Plenty River below Montmorency Park.

Nationwide, snakebite comes in after road trauma as the single biggest cause of the untimely demise of “man’s best friend” and in the time we have lived at Yallambie, our neighbours on all sides have lost pets to snake bite. A pity St Patrick never made it downunder to do his thing with snakes. Our next door neighbour’s pet moggy survived a snake bite although only after two lots of anti-venom at the vet costing $800 a pop. What price a pet? Another neighbour accidentally stepped on the head of a snake in his darkened garden at night, crushing the life out of it under foot in his open sandals. A lucky man perhaps but it shows the importance of keeping a battery torch handy in your garden at night.

Tiger snake scientific illustration.
Tiger snake scientific illustration.

In my earlier post, Dear Diary, of January 2015, I recounted a story once told to us of how the late Ethel Temby found a Tiger snake inside her home at Yallambie Homestead. When she saw the snake it was going under the back door, however its direction of travel was from the inside going out. On questioning her young sons they admitted that they had caught it in the garden some while previously and brought it secretly into the house to keep as a pet. This dangerous, so called, pet had escaped and been at large in the house for days before being spotted by Ethel, slip, sliding away.

Old tintype (ferrotype) image of a model of an unwelcome house guest.
Old tintype (ferrotype) image of a model of an unwelcome house guest.

There are a number of blue tongue lizards living in our garden this year which have become so used to us that they can literally be fed from the hand. I often see one or another poke its head out of the random rocks of the garden wall at the back of the kitchen as I walk by.

Young Blue-tongue lizard at Yallambie, January, 2016.
Young Blue-tongue lizard at Yallambie, January, 2016.

Blue tongues are a type of skink with back markings not unlike those of the Tiger snake, a fact that has given rise at times to some dangerous confusions. A lad in my youth, a hero of the school yard just for this story, once pulled what he thought was the tail of a blue tongue lizard from a hollow log. This so called “lizard” gradually revealed itself as being longer and longer in body but without any evident signs of the expected leg appendages. Suddenly came the drastic realization that, far from a lizard being held by the tail, the boy was actually tugging at the tail of a snake. You can well imagine the speed with which a retreat was conducted by the school children from the vicinity of the hollow log on that occasion.

Overseas visitors to our country sometimes comment on the perils of living in a society where you can be eaten by sharks in the ocean, burned to death by fire in the bush or fatally poisoned by the bite of spiders and snakes in and around the home. Growing up in Australia the boy scouts were taught that, in the case of a snake attack, a cut should be made into the wound with a pen knife and the poison sucked out. I don’t know if this advice ever saved a life but the action was later discouraged when it was realized that the knife wounds were often more dangerous than the bite itself.

Instructions from 50 year old Melbourne made snakebite lancet kit.
Instructions from 50 year old Melbourne made snakebite lancet kit.

As a small boy in Rosanna I remember my father once coming in and declaring that he had killed a black snake on our corner.

“How did you do that, Daddy?” I asked in my innocence.

“Picked it up by its tail Son, and cracked it like a whip.”

I was particularly impressed by this story and imagined for years my father, my hero, going around the neighbourhood, picking up snakes by their tails and cracking them right and left like stock whips.

Years later when I was grown I happened to recall this tale to my father and quizzed him about its veracity. He looked puzzled for a moment before recalling, that yes, he had killed a snake on the corner once upon a time but had done so by collecting it across the back with the edge of a garden spade.

In such ways are the illusions of our childhood destroyed.

It is said that to dream of snakes is to dream of your enemies. My wife said she dreamed of a snake the night before poor Rosie died in what might uncertainly be described as a premonition of events.

Theda Bara as Cleopatra, 1917.
Theda Bara as Cleopatra, 1917.

The serpent as an icon is almost as old as mankind itself with the snake of course infamously representing the temptations of the Devil in the Garden of Eden but in many other cultures, the idea of a snake shedding its skin is used as a metaphor for the reincarnation of the soul. The Kundalini awakening, the object of a powerful form of yogic theory, is described as being like a coiled serpent at the base of the spine. It is seen as a primordial and dormant energy present in three-and-a-half coils at the base of the spine in a triangular bone called the Sacrum, the Latin word for a holy bone identified as the last bone to be destroyed when the body is burnt.

 

Ouroboros, the ancient symbol of a snake eating its own tail, symbolizes this cycle of life and the eternal return. Carl Jung included the Ouroboros as one of his psychological archetypes. For mine, that’s the best way of imagining the snake for I like to think of our Rosie making a return some time soon.

Sam Neill as the Dean in the movie "Dean Spanley".
Sam Neill as the Dean in the movie “Dean Spanley”.

Take a second look at the communion wine the next time the Dean offers it your way. It just might be Dean Spanley or maybe the Rev Roscoe offering you a glass of the finest Tokay.

ouroboros

O Tannenbaum

It would be a hard thing not to have noticed, but all across this town in recent times there has been a large broom at work, sweeping away houses, gardens and the detritus of old lives, leaving behind open blocks like missing teeth in a landscape ready for new building. Driven partly by Federal Government policy aimed at encouraging foreign investment in the local building industry, the broom has even been seen in the streets of Yallambie where occasional houses from the A V Jennings era estate have been cleared away to make room for new homes.

I’ve always wondered at the reasoning behind removing perfectly good houses to build more perfectly good houses. The ultimate expression of life in a disposable world I suppose but it is an idea that is not entirely without precedence in this area. When the original 1840s pre-fabricated buildings at Yallambie were replaced by the current Homestead at the start of the 1870s, the same thinking was behind it. Out with the old and in with the new.

Modern houses inevitably contain many advantages over their predecessors in insulation, sustainability and modern conveniences but perhaps the most surprising innovation I’ve heard about recently is the so called, dedicated “Christmas Tree Room”. By all reports, no home of the 21st century should be without one.

When I was a child, decorating a tree at the start of December with home-made paper chains was a family ritual. It is a ritual however considered by some house designers to be too taxing on the demands of modern day lifestyles. Better to leave the plastic tree decorated from the previous December in a purpose built room, the “Christmas Tree Room”, and wheel it out annually ready to go for Santa’s arrival over our roof tops.

A drop in at Christmas.
A drop in at Christmas.

At our home we don’t have a “Christmas Tree Room”. We don’t have a plastic tree for that matter. We do have an ancient, wonky table top sized, fibre tree that has seen more than seven decades of Christmas ritual of my wife’s family and which is left decorated with its fragile ornament in a cupboard from one year to the next. Is that the same thing?

The wonky Christmas tree.
The wonky Christmas tree.

The Scouts do a roaring trade in trees around Melbourne at this time of the year, but almost every year there seems to have been a self-sown pine or cypress growing somewhere in our garden in quite just the wrong place and demanding removal. The enormous Mexican Cypress (Cupressus lusitanica), mistakenly identified from a distance in one council survey as a Sequoiadendron Giganteum (it really is a big tree) and growing on the Yallambie Park escarpment, keeps seeding our nearby garden beds and most years there has been at least one young tree ready to come inside.

Mexican cypress used as a Christmas tree.
Mexican cypress used as a Christmas tree.

A couple of years ago I brought a particularly tall specimen in from the garden at Christmas and stood it in our bay window where it literally touched the ceiling. I needed a high step ladder to decorate it. Inside that bay window was hanging what was, at that time, a recently installed Italian glass light fitting. It had been reconstructed by us painstakingly from a collection of found pieces and represented a great deal of creative effort.

“Mind that light fitting while you’re up there,” said my wife anxiously watching me reach past the light to get at the top of the tree. “Don’t you think you should remove the glass first?”

They say that one definition of love is never being tempted to use those words, “I told you so,” but it must have been tempting for her all the same as she watched me the next minute step first one way, then the other doing a juggling act on the top most rung of the ladder. In bumping one of the glass feathers of the light and attempting to catch its fall, I managed to knock down two more and to watch all three at the end of my juggling act smash helplessly on the floor. It took me a long time to live down that particularly brilliant effort. ‘Tis the season to be jolly, don’t you know? But could it have happened with the convenience of a pre-decorated tree and an associated “Christmas Tree Room”?

The ritual of the Christmas tree developed as a Christian custom in early modern Germany with possible origins in much earlier pagan traditions. The idea spread beyond Germany in the 19th century, at first within the ruling classes, but with the practice ultimately spreading to summer time Australia from winter time Great Britain after the marriage of Queen Victoria to the German Prince Albert.

Queen Victoria, Prince Albert and the Royal Family at Christmas
Queen Victoria, Prince Albert and the Royal Family at Christmas

Christmas trees were traditionally decorated with edibles such as apples, nuts, or other foods and illuminated by candles. The inherent dangers of naked flames in early Christmas trees seem obvious now and if the practice had not been discontinued by the introduction of modern electric lighting, I suspect there might be many more cleared blocks today than has resulted even from that sweeping broom of foreign investment.

Santa at Yallambie.
Santa at Yallambie.

Today there are web sites devoted to the art of how to decorate the perfect Christmas tree. O Tannenbaum comes in a myriad variety of forms and in the endless pursuit of perfection that is life in the modern world, Christmas is in danger of sometimes becoming just another in that list of ceremonial opportunities designed to impress your friends. Rambling gardens, eclectic interiors and wonky Christmas trees are out of fashion. It is the same mind set that has seen that broom all too busy in the suburbs where the collision between established residential communities and the needs of cashed up property developers has seen the wholesale demolition of houses in some quarters, leaving those areas with a confusing patchwork of conflicting architectural styles. Georgian, French Provincial, Rhode Island and Antebellum; just about everything other than “Australian”. Our iconic Federation era style architecture has been just about the biggest casuality in the big clean up. The demolition of the century old Queen Anne style house “Idylwilde” in Toorak made headlines just over a month ago. In this young nation, our heritage is not always appreciated as economics and practicalities take precedence. One wonders at just what will replace it.

Idylwilde in Toorak before and during demolition.
Idylwilde in Toorak before and during demolition.

Meanwhile, on the search for our Christmas tree this year, it is apparent that most of the Mexican Cypress seedlings growing in our garden have been weeded and we don’t have a tree ready to come inside for the first time in a long time. Most of those left are ankle biters. All the same, we do have a scratchy looking Bunya Bunya pine which I’ve been growing in a pot. At least it’s an Australian native. It might not look like much right now but give it a few decorations and that little tree will find itself feeling like Christmas.

Literally.

charlie brown christmas

Anyone for tennis?

Tennis — it’s a game that’s all about the love. At least that’s how it seemed to me this year when I took up the sport for the first time. Every mixed doubles concluded with a player pointing at me from the other end and calling out, “Love”. But I don’t think it was necessarily a term of endearment.

So called “Lawn” tennis developed as a sport in the 19th century from an ancient and obscure predecessor called Real (or Royal) tennis, managing to keep most of the old scoring system and many of the original French words of the earlier game along the way. Love in tennis actually comes from the French expression l’oeuf meaning the egg like shape of zero. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, love counts for nothing on the tennis court.

I’ve heard tell that Queen Victoria’s wastrel son, Edward the Prince of Wales, liked a bit of love. He popularised the game of tennis for the masses in the late 19th century after taking the sport up in a futile exercise to halt an ever expanding belt size. It soon became apparent that Eddie’s love of a second serve at the dinner table meant that this was never going to happen. The P of Wales was destined to be a whale. The game itself meanwhile became one of the world’s most widely played sports with a style about it that was all its own. It’s a funny thing, but have you noticed that in every drawing room, period comedy or murder mystery there always come a point when a Freddie Threepwood type wearing flannels bursts into a room and asks of the assembled guests, “I say, anyone for tennis?” It generally happens just before the first body is found with a knife protruding from its back in the library or the romantic lead is revealed as the lost child of a titled lady, accidentally abandoned on a railway station at birth.

The National Trust property, Ripponlea, featured in a tennis themed episode of the MIss Fisher's Murder Mysteries on ABC television last month.
The National Trust property, Ripponlea, featured in a tennis themed episode of the MIss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries on ABC television last month.

Murder and adoption aside, the sight of a rubber ball being hit homicidally across a net was actually an early feature of this district. The Wragge family built themselves a lawn court south of the Yallambie Homestead for their recreational use on a site that had previously been occupied by the Bakewells’ pre-fabricated farm house.

Yallambie Homestead photographed from the south west c1890 before the addition of the large verandahs. The corner of the tennis court is just visible on the right of this picture, (Bush collection).
Yallambie Homestead photographed from the south west c1890 before the addition of the large verandahs. The corner of the tennis court is just visible on the right of this picture, (Bush collection).

Tennis was not necessarily limited by the size or availability of lawn space however or by competition from gnomes at the bottom of the family garden. Tennis clubs were started at various places around Melbourne and other outlying suburbs for it was a game that could be played wherever a piece of level ground could be found and a net, a soft ball and racquets plus a pot of paint could be provided.

Tennis court at Eltham, c1900, (Tonkinson collection).
Tennis court at Eltham, c1900, (Tonkinson collection).

All the same, some inventiveness might be required on occasion as was the case at the Wragges’ up-country sheep station, Tulla. At that property, unlike the lawn court at Yallambie, a court surface was created by grinding ant hills in the Riverina dust where the fine grass would not grow. In Winty Calder’s “Classing the Wool and Counting the Bales” (Jimaringle 1996), Lady Betty Lush described this tennis court as she remembered it in her youth:

“It was far from being a good court but it gave an immense amount of fun to us all. The posts were Murray pine trunks between which were hung lengths of netting of assorted meshes. The surface originally was made of ants nest gravel and in parts was really good. Unfortunately there were areas where the water lay and these areas tended to grow grass. However a Dutch hoe always removed the grass even if it didn’t improve the surface. Up at one end there was a large bull ants’ nest. Many times and in many ways we tried to remove it but they always came back again and in the end one just had to remember to jump over that part of the court.”

Tennis players on the Wragge's tennis Court at Tulla Station between the wars, (Lush collection).
Tennis players on the Wragge’s tennis Court at Tulla Station between the wars, (Lush collection).

If you want to see tennis played on grass these days your best option is to tune into the box this week, and watch the championship played at Wimbledon, home of the All England Club. Tennis courts with grassed surfaces in Melbourne are as rare as a 21st century grand slam event at Kooyong. The game itself is played enthusiastically all over Melbourne however and is a regular feature at Yallambie with play linked to a site in Yallambie Park just below the Lower Plenty Rd Bridge. It is here, at an entrance off Moola Close, that the Yallambie Tennis Club makes its home.

Yallambie TC was formed in 1972 and played initially on courts located at the Army Barracks at the Greensborough Rd end of Yallambie Rd, alongside the site of the church built by the Wragge family on the north western corner of their estate. This was at a time when the Jennings’ sub division of Yallambie was gathering momentum. The name “Yallambie” was officially adopted for the suburb in 1974 and it was in that year that the location in Yallambie Park was chosen and developed as the home for the fledgling tennis club.

Before the advent of various synthetic surfaces, a common alternative to grass courts in Victoria was “en tout cas” and it was this style of surface that was chosen at the home of the Yallambie Tennis Club. A co-op was formed and money raised to build the courts, the Heidelberg Council matching the club’s funds dollar for dollar. A local landscape gardener who had never built a tennis court but who reckoned he could build one without resorting to ant hills was commissioned to construct the first surfaces at Yallambie TC, the present day courts 1 and 2. Facilities before the construction of club rooms were initially limited to the provision of an old telegraph pole lying adjacent to the north of the courts where players and spectators could park their cold bottoms and watch play in progress.

The present day courts 4 and 5 were the next constructed followed by what are now courts 3 and 6 making a total of six “en tout cas” surfaces. Playing lights were provided in 1978 enabling the club to field teams in the NENTG and a club house provided in 1988. For many years the court surfaces were maintained by the efforts of long-time club president, Rob Kew. With his recent retirement however a professional groundsman has been employed.

Today Yallambie TC fields teams in the NEJTA, NENTG and Pennant competitions. The association of the Fireball Tennis Academy with Yallambie and involvement of Gareth Constance as a coach of the younger players, together with a new committee under a new president, Pauline Scala, has contributed much to the reinvigoration of the club. Our son has been playing tennis at Yallambie since he was barely able to see over the top of the net, typically to mixed parental acclaim from yours truly, but after my experience this year of flailing at empty air with a racquet I’ve determined never to criticise again. It’s really a lot harder to lob that furry ball over to the other side than you might think.

Sarah Annie Wragge and unidentified girl with tennis racquets on the south side of Yallambie Homestead above the adjacent tennis court, c1890, (Bush collection).
Sarah Annie Wragge and unidentified girl with tennis racquets on the south side of Yallambie Homestead above the adjacent tennis court, c1890, (Bush collection).

The sight of Annie Wragge in a long skirt and corsets careering across the tennis court at Yallambie Homestead or of one of her brothers in a blazer and straw boater stringing up a net is certainly a thing of the past. But the tradition is continued at the Tennis Club where the sport has been undergoing a bit of a Renaissance of late. Last month Yallambie 1 mixed doubles won their section grand final in the autumn competition and this was followed by grand final wins by both the junior girls and junior boys’ teams.

Yallambie junior boys playing in their grand final at Yallambie, June, 2015.
Yallambie junior boys playing in their grand final at Yallambie, June, 2015.

On the strength of that latter achievement they gave our son a little trophy which featured a plastic player, tennis racquet uplifted menacingly in hand. He received it in one hand and the boys snapped the racquet off in their excitement with the other. You might say the plastic player is suffering from a bit of tennis elbow. I hope it’s not a sign of things to come.

Yallambie TC on grand final day, June, 2015.
Yallambie TC on grand final day, June, 2015.

Tennis is a great sport and Yallambie TC is friendly and welcoming environment to play it in. The club has teams playing during the week on weeknights and at weekends and most standards are catered for. Even those like me who are still struggling to tell one end of a racquet from the other. According to one opponent I played against last season, the game should never be taken too seriously. “Afterall,” he said as he watched me hit the ball out of play for what seemed like the umpteenth time, “You know we’re not playing for sheep stations”. That at least would have been a comfort to old Tommy Wragge.

Harry and Syd Wragge with their uncle, James Hearn, and dog photographed on the Yallambie tennis court, c1898, (Bush collection).
Harry and Syd Wragge with their uncle, James Hearn, and dog photographed on the Yallambie tennis court, c1898, (Bush collection).

I’m Bat(e)man

If you are familiar with Melbourne’s National Gallery of Victoria, the NGV in St Kilda Rd, you might be forgiven for thinking for a moment that a Minotaur could be lurking somewhere deep within its vaults. It is a labyrinth of a building, home for much of the Gallery’s (estimated) more than 70,000 works of art.

Of course, only a fraction of this huge collection can be displayed at any one time within the bluestone, prison like walls of the St Kilda Rd building, a building once described appropriately enough as a “perfect place for a hanging”.

A Royal Worcester Aesthetic teapot channeling the spirit of E La Trobe Bateman, maybe.
A Royal Worcester Aesthetic teapot channeling the spirit of E La Trobe Bateman, maybe.

One of the items formerly on display in the NGV’s European ceramics collection was the so called “Aesthetic Teapot”, a marvellous little pot manufactured by the Royal Worcester Company in the second half of the 19th century. The teapot is a no show these days so maybe it has been withdrawn from the public eye for use in the Gallery Director’s morning cuppa. Who can say? The “Aesthetic Teapot” was modelled after the character “Patience” from the Gilbert and Sullivan comic opera of the same name but to my mind, “Patience” as portrayed by the Worcester porcelain factory, always reminded me of the recorded photographic likeness of another Aesthetic character of the 19th century, Edward La Trobe Bateman.

Signed photograph of Edward La Trobe Bateman.
Signed photograph of Edward La Trobe Bateman.

Mr Bateman was a multi-talented 19th century artist and garden designer who might loosely be described as a member of the Aesthetic movement although his origins are arguably to be found in the earlier activities of their precursors, the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood.

The PRB as it styled itself was an influential reformist English art movement which vouchsafed a return to the purity of the art of late medieval and early Renaissance Europe. The Brotherhood started as a sort of “Dead Poets Society” of the Arts in 1848, a year of political upheavals across Europe known as the “Year of Revolution”. This month the National Gallery of Victoria has a great little hanging happening which they have dubbed “Medieval Moderns”. It draws from a diverse range of Pre-Raphaelite work, mainly from the Gallery’s own collection, to tell the story of the Brotherhood and of the part in it played by some of their followers. The yarn as presented by the NGV runs with a singularly Australian bent and it is a bend that bends with a surprising angle on Yallambie.

Taking pride of place just to the left of the exhibition entrance as you access “Medieval Moderns” are three drawings by the old teapot himself, the artist E La Trobe Bateman. They are from a set of at least 12 that he produced in the 1850s of the Bakewell brothers’ “Floraville”, AKA “Yallambee” or “The Plenty Station”.

Alisa Bunbury writes in the “Medieval Moderns” exhibition catalogue that Bateman’s drawings depict the Bakewells’ Yallambee “in exquisite detail and from numerous viewpoints the buildings and, more particularly, the much-praised garden which had been established (some of which still survives)”. I wonder if the Parks and Gardens Department at Banyule Council are listening.

The NGV Bateman drawings are not on permanent display and I presume are usually kept guarded by the Minotaur somewhere deep inside the NGV vaults. You can request to see them privately however and they are serious enough to be trotted out now and again for use at temporary exhibitions with previous shows both at the St Kilda Rd and Federation Square galleries.

The Victorian Government Botanist, Baron Ferdinand von Mueller once described Bateman as a “splendid artist”. The “Station Plenty” pictures drawn by Bateman are executed with a meticulous hand and are so finely finished that today it has possible to create a reasonable 19th century plant list of Yallambie from their resource.

Edward La Trobe Bateman, NLNZ
Edward La Trobe Bateman, NLNZ

Edward La Trobe Bateman was born in Yorkshire in 1816 and was a cousin of the Superintendent of Port Phillip and first Lieutenant Governor of the Colony of Victoria, Charles Joseph La Trobe. Bateman’s work first popped up in the PRB year, 1848 with the publication of a set of chromolithographed flowers. Slightly older than the seven original members of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, Bateman was known by them as “the illuminator”. He worked with PRB leading light, John Everett Millais on the interior decoration of a house in Leeds and both men produced illustrations for a small, privately circulated magazine. Bateman was also an intimate friend of key PRB figure, Dante Gabriel Rossetti and lived with him at Highgate in 1852. Bateman’s concern for the truthful depiction of nature as urged by the preeminent art critic of the era and PRB supporter, John Ruskin and so evident in the Yallambee set, became a crucial element in the thinking of the Pre-Raphaelite artists.

Bateman came to Australia in 1852 in the company of the Pre-Raphaelite sculptor Thomas Woolner and another PRB sympathiser, Bernhard Smith. Ostensibly this trip was in order for these men to try their luck on the newly established Victorian goldfields but in Bateman’s case his motives were of a more personal nature and primarily connected with the Howitt family. Bateman was unofficially engaged to Anna Mary Howitt, the daughter of the writers, William and Mary Howitt. William was in Victoria to lead an exhibition to the gold fields, hoping perhaps to find a fortune but more especially to furnish material for a book he planned to write.

Phoebe Howitt, ne Bakewell — electroplate medallion by Thomas Woolner, 1853 (Medieval Moderns, NGV)
Phoebe Howitt, ne Bakewell — electroplate medallion by Thomas Woolner, 1853 (Medieval Moderns, NGV)

On arriving in Victoria, Bateman stayed at the Collins Street East home of William’s brother, Dr Godfrey Howitt, a meeting place of the infant colony’s smarty pants set.

Home of Dr Godfrey and Phoebe (ne Bakewell) Howitt on the corner of Collins Street East and Spring Street, Melbourne, 1868, SLV.
Home of Dr Godfrey and Phoebe (ne Bakewell) Howitt on the corner of Collins Street East and Spring Street, Melbourne, 1868, SLV.

Soon after he packed his brushes up with a pick and shovel and headed to the diggings where he fell in with his prospective father in law’s expedition before falling out with the old boy himself. It had been anticipated that Bateman’s brush would supply the illustrations for William’s book when written but in mid-1853 the relationship between Bateman and William Howitt broke down. It wasn’t quite the stuff of pistols at dawn but it must have been something more than a storm in the Bateman teapot. The engagement between Anna Howitt and Bateman was broken and William returned to England in 1854 where he published “Land, Labour and Gold” but without the intended illustrations. “Land, Labour and Gold” contains a wealth of detail about life in the early colony including a (previously quoted) detailed description of the Bakewells’ “Yallambee” property. The one thing that is missing from the narrative however is Bateman himself who was certainly a member of the party for much of the expedition but who is mentioned maybe 10 times in a two volume set numbering something over 800 pages.

William’s son Charlton, writing of the goldfields expedition, described the odd figure of Bateman in company with his father on the trail:

“…the governor often walks first in his broad hat and wide trousers; often the Painter walks beside him in his glazed cap, blue jumper and leather overalls which come up his thighs and with a courier pouch at his side for his sketching things, but just as often he is stalking ahead of everybody for he has a very long pair of legs and they seem to carry him involuntarily.”

The Aesthetic poet, Reginald Bunthorne, from Gilbert and Sullivan's comic opera, "Patience".
The Aesthetic poet, Reginald Bunthorne, from Gilbert and Sullivan’s comic opera, “Patience”.

Bateman stayed on in Australia after William Howitt’s return to England and it was after this that he produced the Yallambie drawings that are now part of the NGV collection. The Bakewells’ became life-long friends of Bateman and probably commissioned the drawings from him to provide a permanent record of their property at a time when their return to Britain was being contemplated. The “Yallambee” drawings were complete by 1856 when they were available in London for a review by a writer in “The Athenaeum” who, while writing anonymously, would most likely have been Bateman’s former fiancée, Anna Howitt, writing presumably without the knowledge of her father. Anna had written for “The Athenaeum” previously and the style of the article suggests a feminine hand of the Victorian era and the prose a previous knowledge of Bateman’s career:

We have been much pleased this week by some drawings of Australian scenes, the work of Mr Bateman, a gentleman who formerly assisted Mr Owen Jones in some of his miraculous and laborious books. The tepid air that bathes the gum-tree forests has not relaxed the hand of this skilful draughtsman, nor has it lost a whit of its old accuracy and ‘cunning’. The pencil drawings are merely scenes on a farm on the Plenty River, the property of Messrs Bakewell. Early settlers in Victoria. The views are taken at different points — here the stately cattle feeding, there the river sleeping and the reeds whispering to it their silly secrets.

In No. 1 there is a stream, dark, calm, unruffled, and sullen, — trees leaning about in a rude, helpless way; some leafless, others in the full flush of leaf. In the distance are out-buildings, with every plank hinted, and the very nail heads implied, if not delineated, with photographic skill and care.

The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view V by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Station outbuildings in distance with trees and creek in foreground.
The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view V by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Station outbuildings in distance with trees and creek in foreground.

No. 2 is a growing wonder, with elaborate neat fences, slopes of hill and dale, full of swelling wealth, as if mother Nature was baring her breasts to her suckling children. The leaves, grass, and trees are admirably expressed with sharp ciphers of black lead. Pre-eminent among them, and especially characteristic of the gold and copper country, is the stringy bark tree, with its ragged cordage hanging about it like shattered rigging round a mast.

The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view VI by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Distant view of station on hill with creek in foreground.
The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view VI by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Distant view of station on hill with creek in foreground.

No. 3 is remarkable for its dark, ghostly cypresses, solid cones of black shade, silent and watchful as sentinels. The leaves of the plants, fingered or fan-like, are given to botanical truth.

The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view VII by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856
The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view VII by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856

No. 4 is the house, a homely English cottage, with its broad brim of a verandah, latticed with flowers and encumbered with sweets, — the broad level lawn, calm and sunny as a good man’s conscience, is bordered by bushy plants and flowering aloes.

The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view III by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. House with lattice-work verandah and garden.
The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view III by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. House with lattice-work verandah and garden.

No. 5 is a dark, cool pool, criss-crossed by trees, that watch it as lovers do a woman’s eye.

The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view XI by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. View of garden with cypress and fence.
The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view XI by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. View of garden with cypress and fence.

No. 6 is a cave, that, used for a garden-house, is hollowed out under the brow of the hill.

The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view IX by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Gardening shed.
The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view IX by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Gardening shed.

No. 7 is a garden-walk, after the old loved English model, — just such as line round the rector’s garden, where peaches bask their velvets on the warm south wall, or the snug rich corner of the cathedral close, where the leathery medlars ripe and rot. There are huge bushes some ten feet high, and reeds with each square flat leaf snapped at an angle.

The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view IV by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. New Zealand flax in foreground.
The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view IV by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. New Zealand flax in foreground.

No. 8 is a flight of wooden steps leading from one garden to another. The dry arrow-headed palm boughs and the great cypress trees, so sad and solemn — so like huge hearse-plumes — are admirably drawn.

The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view VIII by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Cypress and steps.
The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view VIII by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Cypress and steps.

No. 9 is another view of the pool, where some black Narcissus may have drowned himself or his gins.

The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view X by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Trees and creek.
The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view X by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Trees and creek.

No. 10 is the verandah and sheltering trees;

The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view II by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Detailed view of house and verandah.
The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view II by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Detailed view of house and verandah.

No. 11 the river, with its wild and grassy banks; and

The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view XII by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Distant view of hut with creek in foreground.
The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view XII by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Distant view of hut with creek in foreground.

No. 12 is the house, with the cattle feeding in battalions, and the pigeons in a white cloud wheeling round the stable roofs.

The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view I by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Distant view of station with cattle in foreground.
The Station Plenty, (Yallambie) view I by Edward La Trobe Bateman 1853-1856. Distant view of station with cattle in foreground.

We envy Mr Bateman his skill in delineation, his knowledge and his patience. His sharp, clever, precise touch, neither dry nor mechanical, evinces mechanical talent of a high order, — the distances and the selection indicate a higher power: — together and combined they promise an artist of rare ability, — one whose pencil may stick at nothing, — who, starting from the ability to render all he sees, will rise to the ability — if he has not already done so — of representing all he wishes to see, — of selecting from, or recombining, of sorting, chastening, heightening and refining Nature. (“The Athenaeum”, London, No. 1523, 1857)

As numbered in “The Athenaeum” article and ordered above based upon the interpretation by Anne Neale in her doctorate “Illuminating Nature”, Bateman’s pictures were probably intended to be hung in sequence around three walls of a room with an effect something like a guided tour, with NGV View V and View I (Anna Howitt’s No. 1 and No. 12) the bookends to the sequence. However, as noted by Neale in a previous NGV exhibition, (“This Wondrous Land” 2011), the numbering used by the writer in “The Athenaeum” article does not match the current NGV catalogue descriptions. “The Athenaeum” summary having been written in 1857 it can however be more or less assumed to be the more correct sequence of the artist’s intended order although Dr Neale suggests intriguingly that it could mean that the two sequences actually represent the overlapping parts of a larger and now certainly lost set.

E La Trobe Bateman remained in Australia until 1869, producing sketches and paintings, botanical illustrations and illuminated bindings, graphic and textile designs, garden designs and architectural plans. His was a remarkable talent that has left a significant mark on the history of Yallambie.

A trail of passion flowers, E La Trobe Bateman, watercolour, NGV
A trail of passion flowers, E La Trobe Bateman, watercolour, NGV
Passion flower, Yallambie, May, 2015.
Passion flower, Yallambie, May, 2015.

Bateman may be best described today as an Aesthetic. As an interesting end note, some years ago we heard from a descendant of a man by the name of John Morris, reputedly a gardener for the Bakewells. Morris was a Ticket of Leave convict who had been sponsored by Bateman to work at the Plenty Station, which he did so happily for 20 years, marrying and producing five children along the way. One can only wonder if this John Morris was in any way related to the family of the famous William Morris, one of the founders of Aestheticism, and himself a keen gardener.

Bateman decamped Australia at the end of 1869 after injuring his drawing hand in a buggy accident, taking virtually all of his drawings with him on departure. The “Yallambee” drawings remained by descent with the Bakewell family in England until 1935 when they passed to Alice Miller and John Compton Miller from whom they were purchased for the NGV by the Felton Bequest in 1959. Bateman spent the rest of his life as a landscape gardener to the Marquess of Bute at Rothesay in Scotland where he died in 1897 aged 82, a well brewed teapot.

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Green Days

In the previous post, Lady Betty Lush remembered her childhood visits to the Yallambie Homestead:

“I also loved to be allowed to wander in the garden under the tall pine trees and around the river. It seemed to me a dream garden…”

Travelling around the suburb of Yallambie today it is sometimes hard to reconcile those impressions with the reality of life in a modern city. In 1959 when Nancy and Cliff Bush prepared to leave their farm at Yallambie after a century of occupation by the Wragge family, they commissioned a film maker and family friend, Peter Bassett-Smith to make a 16mm film as a record of the property before it was consumed by the proposed A V Jennings housing development. That film is now housed at the National Film and Sound Archive in Canberra after its owner, Bill Bush donated it to the library. As a testimony to a farm in close proximity to a capital city in Australia in the middle part of the 20th century, it is a fascinating picture. The scenes of rolling green fields, mature tree lined drives and gardens, the dams filled with water, and the solid, old homestead with its c1840 stable block are a glimpse into a golden, nostalgic world of which only a remnant has survived to the present day.

Still from the film "Yallambie" by Peter Bassett-Smith
Still from the film “Yallambie” by Peter Bassett-Smith

When surveyed at the start of the 1960s, the A V Jennings plan for the subdivision of Yallambie cut through the house garden. Pegs observed close to the Homestead at that time suggest that Jennings also contemplated the demolition of the c1870 farm house.

Still from the film "Yallambie" by Peter Bassett-Smith
Still from the film “Yallambie” by Peter Bassett-Smith

After construction, Tarcoola Drive cut through the house paddock and Lambruk Court opposite the Homestead crossed the site of the old stockyards and loading ramps. A V Jennings auctioned the first blocks of land at Yallambie in September, 1966 for an average price of £4118. From 1974, after the Victorian Government Gazette published its approval, the new suburb was officially listed as “Yallambie”, within the City of Heidelberg (now City of Banyule). Today it is home to a resident population of several thousand people, many of whom are probably unaware of its earlier history. For them and for any others who might be interested to see the beauty of a now vanished farming era, here is that film: