On the road to Wingello, 28 May 2020

The tangly intricate bush on the road to the Southern Highlands hasn't changed, except there is a new koala fence to stop animals getting on to the road. Burnt areas are sprouting bunches of leaves like those used in a smoking ceremony. Some of the houses ruined in the fires have been cleared, leaving just a brick chimney, still with an Aga stove intact, still surrounded by tall dead pine trees. In a sunny moment we stopped the car at a winery and the taste of the first coffee outside the house since late February, was delicious. The feeling of the dense trees reminded me of visiting graves on the Tiwi Islands, with an old friend who cried out to all the spirits as we approached deeper into the bush where people I had known well were buried. He yodelled in a high pure voice and called 'don't worry old ones, it's only me with a friend, we won't trouble you'. it's easy to imagine that such presences still inhabit those immense forested valleys and canyons. 

Diana Wood Conroy 'On the road to Wingello', watercolour and crayon on pastel paper, 15 x 21 cm, 28 May 2020