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TRIBUTE TO ROSE GIUMELLI
This selection of Verse has been written over many years by long-time
local resident, Rose Giumelli. In 2019 sadly Rose passed away aged 98 years
old. She left behind beautiful writings that reflect back on the past, the
early days of the Mill, and early bush life.
As a tribute to Rose, we are very privileged to have permission to
publish a selection of her writings. This is the first time these have been
printed and incorporate her feelings about the bush, the loneliness, the
wildlife, the land and the animals that share this area with us. It gives an
insight into early life in the forest as new-comers battled the elements and
their home sickness. After much hard work, they and their families, emerged
successful orchardists and business people we see around the valley today.
Please sit back, enjoy, and become absorbed in these writings as they take you
back in time. A very special piece of our early history.
A robin redbreast sat upon a tree
Always on their way home from school
Where the spider orchids grew tallest
Which signified they had to go home
When I look back over my life
When the joy of living was always green -
Such were our days when we drove to school
We only noticed when it passed
As the cart went over a rock
Fortunately it happened going home
Father had built Toby a shelter
But to us it was just a chore
And ride with us as far as The Creek
It was his way of protecting us
Mem'ries such as these are those
Of not complaining no matter how
After twenty years of happiness
His dream demanded a tent city
She was a person who found happiness
She'd seen it happen too often before
The people of The Valley were
They were successful - if success is judged
Export of fruit was at its premium
That export fruit demanded
For export. But manufacturers
The tension of finding outside storage
The planned cold store was built at last
Two Kookaburras nest in a tree
And I ponder on the nature of things
Memories can sometimes accuse
Just like an Aboriginal Legend
Now that the Kookaburras are silent
For we are not our own creation
LITTLE BLUE WREN
I had a little Blue Wren
There are blue birds by the thousand
Around me there is laughter
MY YOUTH AND MY SCHOOLING DAYS
My brother nearest in age to me, had been
Bartonís Mill was a haven for Mother
We left the Mill in the middle of March,
School !! A terrifying experience
Father was a gregarious fellow
Clearing the land was not an easy task.
When we were young our greatest thrill
Then, suddenly our lives were turned around
I grew into a dreamer _ nose always in a book.
The thought of God gave me stability.
He stooped to his creature in gentle insistence
ONCE IT WAS LIKE THIS
Few people who come to the Hills
But Oh! The wonder of the bushland,
Once, when you walked in the forest
"Look! This is what I'm really like
So come with me into the Bush
The donkey orchid flowered the longest,
Whereas the large spider orchids preferred
There was a grand variety of flowers
Before the red gums began to flower.
The last part of summer was hot and dry.
When the rains came they all fell apart,
And a new cycle would begin once more
Often she worked in the fields
And a sadness would come on her
All she wanted to do was lie down
To follow her man into the new land
Nor could she alleviate her pain
And so she sang at her picking
And carried it away among the hills
For this, she thought, was their meaning
I hear them in the night,
My energy to thinking
They circle the estate.
As if trying to diverge -
What I don't understand
By the raucous laughter
It seems robbing the nest
WHEN WE WERE YOUNG
When we were young we were never allowed
In a new place - without friends
Father who worked cutting timber
Have to mix the "that woman's" children
Years passed. We were total strangers
There weren't any other children about us.
She had a facility for language
Was the day when my brother committed a sin -?
Even in old age he still remembers
Yarding the horse in a coral Dad made.
We were regular clients to the tuckshop
At weekends when we'd finished our chores
We'd come home with bunches of flowers.
Pain we refuse ev'ry time
Titillate it with pills
RED TAILED COCKATOOS
Without any specific intention,
Arose, even the crows flew away.
No other sounds could be heard.
Ev'ry gumnut was taken off
Their art was done with such precision
When all the gum trees had been exployed
I pondered on the glory of the world
Now, when melancholy grips me,
When we were young, in the ev'nings
That twisted and turned all over the land
Some of the swallows never left
We were not allowed to go near their nests.
For the reverence they had for swallows,
A bath filled with water for the cows,
When I was young and lived in the bush
Ordinarily I was not afraid of the dark
For at the time I never knew it was a bird.
But now that I know it was a goshawk
WHO WALKED THE DOG?
This morning I took the dog for a walk
To the family, for they would
We went right round the back paddock
Freedom - independence - both
Something he could easily grab
In his ears; and he was off
Panting. But then was gone again:
But my condition said "Enough"
The dog next door was a great play fellow,
References: Article: Rose Giumelli
Copyright: Pickering Brook Heritage Group Inc. 2008 - 2019