Angophora

Tucked away in one of the valleys where we live stands an old Angophora floribunda. She's been here hundreds of years, long before any of us.

We call this spot the Grandmother Valley. This used to be a gathering place for First Nations people. You can still see the signs — rock markings, carvings, hollows. People lived here for thousands of years and knew how to care for it.

Somewhere in the last hundred, it became a dumping ground for old cars. About a dozen of them, scattered under the branches of that tree, rusting slowly into the soil.

One day we'll get them out. We've tried a few times — it's not simple, you need proper machinery.

I do wonder what the old tree would say once they're gone.

Maybe this story needed telling before that happens.