• Lara Flanagan

My Notes from Tenterfield

Updated: Feb 28, 2020


Do you know my Tenterfield?

It is a place that can catch at your heart and rip at your soul.  It is a place that lingers in your mind forever. It is the place where you go to when you click the heels of your magic red shoes together and utter those powerful words, “There is no place like home, there is no place like home, there is no place like home.”

Sometimes in the very early morning, when it is so quiet that you can hear nothing but the sound of your own breath, your mind empties as you ponder such things as ‘how many colours can possibly belong in a tree?’ and ‘how cold does it have to be for tears to freeze on your cheeks?”


Do you know my Tenterfield?

It is a land of beautiful roads.  There are roads that lead to enchantment.  There are roads of mystical beauty.  Roads that march with Captain Time and tell you, with the colours of their leaves, exactly what month of the year it is.   There are roads that have green canopies that cover the sky.   Roads the stretch endlessly into the horizon.  Roads that are lined with graceful poplar trees.  Roads that stand as sentinels to ageing railway bridges.  Roads that transform from bitumen into dirt, then gravel, then dirt, then bitumen again.   There are roads that lead to to a mountain and roads that lead to a rock.  So many roads leading to so many places.


Do you know my Tenterfield?

Some say it is a place of old building and granite rocks.  I say it is a place of a thousand stories and rocky slopes that can transform the world into something different depending on the time, the season, the wind, the rain and the sun.  It is a place that can evoke Miranda disappearing into the rocks never to be seen again, or Cathie meeting Heathcliffe on the moors in the cold and the mist.

It is a place of romance.  Old-fashioned romance that evokes mystery, excitement and the ability to be remote from everyday life.

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Do you know my Tenterfield?

It is a place where time is marked by the changing seasons.  Four distinct seasons with four different worlds with their own temperament, smells, energy and emotion.

Autumn is marked by golden carpets that hide the sky.  By a million leaves that fall, and in time, just beg to be thrown in great big crackly handfuls.  By burnished colours that appear in glorious trees, that sometimes are simply too beautiful to believe.   Autumn is marked by colour.  By an endless, beautiful exquisite range of colour.

Winter is marked by the frosts.  By cold that can take your breath away.   It is a time that is marked by the threat of snow that rarely falls.   By winds that howl and cut through your skin as if wanting to steal your soul.   Winter is beautiful with crystal blue alpine skies that stretch forever into the horizon.

Spring is marked by delicacy.  By flowers and movement and the promise of change.  Bees buzz louder and birds chirp more sweetly.   Pinks, whites and blues, so fragile that they can disappear with a strong gust of wind.  Spring is always about something new.

Summer is marked by golden mornings.   By days that appear to be blissfully long.  Early mornings awake with golden rays that trickle through the trees and the grass and warm the earth.   Days are hot, but nights are cool, devoid of humidity.  Summers are lazy and languid.  Golden glorious days.


Do you know my Tenterfield?

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