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Remembered Sunset at Quongan Vale
The sun was just setting, all red and golden. The end of a warm day - again.
We sat out on the verandah, listening as the crickets announced the dusk.
I could see across the paddock to the copse. The white trunks of the Powderbark Wandoo were glowing pink and salmon in the fading light. Overhead a mob of corellas swirled, gleaming white against the violet sky.
I kept staring at the little copse across the vale. What was it that happened there those three days ago?
The beauty of the evening colours, the calmness of the soft air, and the unusual quietness of the swirling corellas - despite the tranquility of the scene, I could not believe it was the result of god - and yet, three days ago in the copse, I had experienced - felt? - something.
The silvery white trunks and their draping canopy had invoked something - or had I responded to something? I had often thought of the copse as our own sequestered place, somewhere no-one knew about, only us, hidden away in a little court of flat-topped breakaways - and now it seemed there was something else there.
I looked across from the verandah, hoping to feel it again - would something rise within me?, or come to me?
13 May 2004, Blackheath