Matthew G. Robinson

Emerging bookbinder. Food and beverage manager. Occasional writer. Patron of the arts.

Saturday, December 12, 2020

Glebe II.

The huge downfall of rain in and around Canberra over the last few months has unbelievably changed the landscape, from a dry-barron brown to a luscious green. A scene I can only recall a handful of times over the last three decades. In fact, it’s the first time I’ve ever seen the mountainside boarding the northern suburbs of Canberra - One Tree Hill - any other colour than brown.
Planned as a Garden City, the term ‘bush capital’ emerged as a much more suitable way to describe Canberra, with most of the ‘green spaces’ filled with Australian natives - suited to the dry conditions and able to withstand frosty, cold winters - consisting of dull-green canopies and at one’s line of sight: shades of brown, grey and the odd speckle of green. Shades of deep, luscious greens segregated to the odd well-maintained garden, golf course, the few sporting fields and the Parliamentary Triangle. Except, of course, for one ‘green space’ just south of the city: Glebe Park.
In the 1840s when Australian Federalism was not even a concept and the land now consisting of Canberra mere grazing fields, Joseph Campbell of Duntroon Estate (Portion 58, County of Murray) gifted a hundred acres to the Anglican Church for the establishment of St John the Baptist Church (Reid) and an adjoining Glebe (an allotment of land used to support a church). The first occupant, reverend Pierce Galliard, had a passion for trees and surrounded the rectory with Poplars, Elms, Willows and Hawthorns. Today, Glebe Park, maintained as a public green space, exists as just a fraction of the allotment, at 4.7 hectares (11.6 acres), and is adorned with the survivors and descendants of said trees. Making for luscious deep-green canopies that tower over well maintained lawns and gardens.