- Letters-to-the-Editor: End of a camphor era
- Letters-to-the-Editor: The camphor hangover
- A historic moment for Bellingen town
- Camphor Laurel | Time-lapse photography
Councillors deserve our support
I wasn’t present at the tree lopping last week, but Samantha Bond spoke so well for the majority of us.
We all love our trees, however those old camphors were a bit like myself – well past their prime. Their roots would have been having a field day under Cardows and the other shops so close by, not to mention the degraded footpath. One broken hip from a visiting Grey Nomad and up goes our rates again!
Two decades ago here in Dorrigo we were having a civil war over trees to be planted
in the main street which at the time resembled a concrete wasteland. All efforts to compromise failed and the project was eventually dropped. Many years later a couple of trees slipped in along with a green verge and now our main street has a bit more appeal.
Church St will not be so damp in winter and hopefully some flower boxes will be installed. Geraniums look great and take no maintenance; I’ll donate some.
The Greens councillors copped some shocking abuse and are not here to save every tree in the district for goodness sake. The councillor’s job is to direct change for the benefit of locals and visitors alike. Their decisions won’t always be popular, however they got this one right.
Lyn Colmer, Dorrigo
ODE TO THE MURDERED BELLO TREES
Tonight I sit with tears pouring down my face,
burning deeper lines in my weary face.
Today our town square trees were killed.
The heart and soul and breath of our town was slowly decimated – limb by limb
till they gave their last life-giving breath.
Razed to the ground.
Ever since I was a child,
I looked at humanity with shocked awe,
the insensitivity, the stupidity,
the disconnection, the barbarity.
Did they not know that there is a divine order in the Universe
That Mother Earth comes first
That humans, and any other entity’s
puny needs must always come second.
There is nothing if we do not have our Mother.
To think I have to shout this to the sky,
seems like the ultimate absurdity.
I returned back to this town after 17 years
of the wilderness in the city
to the womb and safety of community.
But the corporate tentacles have made their way here too.
When I cry out in consternation
at why, why, why? ...
Follow the money – always follow the money.
The best and most well-meaning hearts
forced into the narrow confines of the
Hegelian Dialectic – the us and them
the false dichotomising.
Their outcome achieved,
not only the heart ripped from our center,
but also a community satisfactorily divided, separated,
unable to join to fight the real shadows
playing with our hearts and minds.
Surely a win-win could have been created?
If we had been give the opportunity to truly listen to each other’s hearts and minds?
There is always a way if we value what is sacred.
But never again to feel those cool branches,
Or the ancient silent protection underneath our feet.
Home to insects, birds, and the homeless.
So what can we do but continue with weary hearts,
hoping against hope that one day
we will be able to create the world
to which we all actually yearn to belong.
To me, there is no other journey worth living
To remind myself and us all
That it is possible, that we can do it.
We can wake up now
Because later … may be too late.