Home among the gum trees

Three and a half days after I arrived back in Melbourne, I embarked upon a three hour drive. In a manual van (making the jet-lagged trip that much more complicated). A van which does not belong to me (making the prospect of a jet-lag induced accident that much scarier). Work had advised that the only shift available pre-school holidays was a three day stint in Echuca. My credit card urged me to take the job. My credit card is wise, and so I heeded its advice.

The trip up was tough. Echuca isn't anywhere near as far as I thought it was, but it could have been on another planet. One urgent coffee stop, three frantic map checks and a U-turn later, I arrived at my B&B in the middle of the country. To quote my sister, "I hate the country". Having spent a few years growing up surrounded by dairy farms, paddocks (with high snake potential), hay sheds (with higher snake potential), chook sheds (with definite snakes. I really don't like snakes) and far more than openness and *quiet* than I am comfortable with, we hold somewhat of an aversion to the country. Sure, it's nice to visit, and I like the way drivers always wave, even if they don't know you, but fairly quickly I get sick of it, and miss the burbs.

Having spent eleven weeks out of Australia, though, and of course comparing it with the various European landscapes through which I was trekking, I found visiting the country really quite soothing. I mean, it didn't hurt that I was FORCED to recuperate from jet lag in a town with little else to do but eat and chill out, and get paid for it. But it was more than that. In Europe, I kept trying to put a finger on why our country-side is different to the European countryside. I came to the conclusion that ours was just bigger. European country areas are fairly strictly delineated, field after carefully bordered field. A Belgian farmer might have a coronary at the sight of an Australian paddock stretching off into the distance.

But that still wasn't it. It wasn't until sunset that it struck me; one thing I had really missed, and a defining aspect of our countryside, are the gum trees. I love the smell, the mottled bark, the feuding birds in the high branches. But my favourite thing about the gum tree is its silhouette. Stark against a lurid Australian country sunset, or ghostly in the early morning fog (and my goodness it was cold and foggy in the country. Brrr), this is an essential image of home for me. Even though I don't identify with the countryside, I feel grounded by gum trees. This might be why I feel so overwhelmed by Melbourne patriotism (is it patriotism if you're thinking of a city rather than a country?) when I near the Yarra; there are gumtrees lining the Yarra all the way from the city to the valley. For me, it's a sign of home. And it's nice to be back.