Early in the morning the sun rises and mist floats through the valley leading to the brown twisting waters of the Yarra River. The warble of magpies and tweeting of rainbow lorikeets fluttering between trees ricochets like the beams of light punching through the tall and slender gum trees.
Footsteps move along the bush track with a thud, the ground is wet and dense. The clay in the soil holds water. Clay pokes through the top soil, the colour of ochre. The ground is scattered with fallen leaves, eucalyptus fruits, twigs, rocks, stones and the rare hint of quartz. A bricolage of bush gems and treasures embellishing the ground cover.
Quartz a stone of intrigue and treasure, when stumbled upon each stone is inspected for any trace of gold.
The wind traces along the ridge of the valley and pushes weeping gum branches through the wind, their leaves bushing against one another and creating a soft symphony of whispering & rustling sounds.
As day turns to night a possum thuds as it runs along the tin roof and then silence. The possum leaps and whilst suspended mid air we hear nothing, silence. Landing on his branch with a thud we picture the brach diverting downwards and springing back up toward the stars as he continues his journey through the night.
The fossickers way.