Remembering our bushie spirits

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on 16 Dec 2015 
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As we come to the end of the year, my mind goes out to families who are experiencing their first, or indeed a number of years missing a family member or loved one at the Christmas dinner table.

To those of our supporters who are missing a loved one, and to those who have made a gift to Bush Heritage Australia in memory of a loved one, or your loved one made a bequest to the bush. I hope you can find comfort in knowing that their legacy and love of the bush lives on through our work.

At this time we also remember staff members who have passed away over the years, and the long lasting impact their contributions had in making Bush Heritage Australia the organisation it is today.

My Country

The love of field and coppice
Of green and shaded lanes,
Of ordered woods and gardens
Is running in your veins.
Strong love of grey-blue distance,
Brown streams and soft, dim skies 
I know, but cannot share it,
My love is otherwise. 

I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror 
The wide brown land for me! 

The stark white ring-barked forests,
All tragic to the moon,
The sapphire-misted mountains,
The hot gold hush of noon,
Green tangle of the brushes
Where lithe lianas coil,
And orchids deck the tree-tops,
And ferns the warm dark soil. 

Core of my heart, my country!
Her pitiless blue sky,
When, sick at heart, around us
We see the cattle die
But then the grey clouds gather,
And we can bless again
The drumming of an army,
The steady soaking rain. 

Core of my heart, my country!
Land of the rainbow gold,
For flood and fire and famine
She pays us back threefold. 
Over the thirsty paddocks,
Watch, after many days,
The filmy veil of greenness
That thickens as we gaze ... 

An opal-hearted country,
A wilful, lavish land 
All you who have not loved her,
You will not understand
though Earth holds many splendours,
Wherever I may die,
I know to what brown country
My homing thoughts will fly.

~ Dorothea MacKellar

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