GEORGINA MOSS

Like many Australians, I appreciate the feelings that are bound up with the spiritual awareness of the land in common with the earliest inhabitants.

To enter the quiet of the forest, the only sounds the crunch of dried twigs underfoot, the sudden flight of a bird or the baleful a-a-aarr of a crow as he eyes the mortal passing below, or beyond where the trees grow thickest, the soft rustle of a stream;

To be bathed in a shaft of sunlight, to lift your head to the canopy sighing in the wind, the incense of leaf or vine or bark;

Awareness is heightened, life’s mysteries envelop; the forest restores the primacy of existence.