The CottageA Poem by KeithThe story of our cottage in the bush.--Purchased 2004-- In an Estate Agent's Window A quaint cottage caught my eye, I felt its call right then I knew I could not pass it by. Needing
hard work love and care, A bargain it would seem. Nestled among the gum trees A renovator’s Dream. It seemed that nature had reclaimed Every inch of garden space, As though the forest hugged that house And held it in its place. To the door up rickety steps You’d think about your chances, Holes there in veranda's floor The handrail made of branches. The front door creaked as it swung wide A sweet but musty smell. It took me back to childhood days Now under the cottage’s spell. What treasures on the inside wait? There was so much to explore, Just as the owners left it Some twenty years before. From bits and pieces firmly built Each a second handed prize Every beam and wooden stilt Each window a different size. The doors were from a hospital, Each one still bore a sign Beside the knob the bathroom door Still reads “Six Beds Ward Nine”. Old gas lamps on every wall No power was connected Taken by its beauty and charm Much more than I expected. The kitchen table made of wood Each dent and scratch a story, Six unpainted wooden chairs Far from their former glory. A whitewashed kitchen cupboard Colored lead-light in the door, Full of wondrous old wares. Such temptation to explore. Mary’s
statue sitting on top She’s
watching what I do, Does she know I own it now, Or would she have a clue? My anticipation rising as I carefully pull the handle Right in front with old matches Of course I lit the candle. There sat a row of children's books, A Mecano set complete, A fountain pen with two spare nibs, A baby’s bottle with its teat. Cups on hooks and many plates A set it’s certainly not Hand beaters and an earthen Jug An old fry pan and iron pot Knifes and forks all bent and worn Clustered in the drawer below. A brooch, cuff links and old tie pin For someone dressed to go. The lino on the floor so thin Old newsprint showing through. A brand new Chev Two Fifty quid Back in nineteen fifty two. We had so much work to do Every single treasure packed All were placed in cardboard boxes Then to the shed and stacked. Each weekend for next three years We worked to modernize. We polished up that wooden floor Now on show before your eyes. The timber beams were sanded back To reveal their natural grain Ceiling boards were all replaced Finished off with timber stain. So proud we were of what we did It came up as just a treat. Now a gorgeous little home Looking prim and very neat. With the renovation finished Using money that was lent In order to appease the bank We let it out to rent. But nature unleashed her fury A bushfire had its way. Infamous in our history The name ‘Black Saturday’ A tragedy like none before The day Victoria cried. Two thousand homes were burned that day One hundred and seventy died. Heartbroken now our cottage gone But indeed our loss was small Great sadness spread across the state Deep sorrow felt by all. Proudly sits a replacement house Worth way more when we sell. But in my heart I miss that cottage Much more than I can tell. --2007 Renovations under way-- --2008 same angle finished-- --2008 finished ready to rent-- --2008 the baltic pine flooring gleaming-- --7th Feb 2009, nothing left-- 'Black Saturday' 2000 homes burned, 173 lives lost. --Saturday 14th September 2013 We received the keys to the replacement building-- Every tree now gone no longer a bush block, now a paddock. -- The Black Saturday Story-- © 2013 KeithAuthor's Note
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Added on September 19, 2013Last Updated on September 20, 2013 Tags: cottage, bushfire, black saturday, bush AuthorKeithGippsland, Victoria, AustraliaAboutI grew up on a diet of Australian bush poetry. Now a business consultant, I spend far too much time on aeroplanes and in hotels, I use this time to write. I like to tell stories and have fun. If y.. more..Writing
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