Post Office Hill

"Post Office Hill"

In the golden light of an early central Victorian morning, something rustled loudly in the scrub near the walking trail. Ros, a seasoned bushwalker with binoculars always slung around her neck, froze mid-step. The rustling was too rhythmic for a wallaby, too loud for a possum, and definitely too determined for a bandicoot.

“Definitely a marsupial,” she whispered to no one, adjusting her lens for a closer look.

The bushes trembled again. She crept closer, heart thumping with the thrill of a rare sighting. Could it be a rare tree kangaroo ? Or better—a thylacine come back from extinction?

She held her breath and parted the bracken carefully, peering in. There, bent over, partially obscured by gorse and wearing an old brown jumper that matched the undergrowth perfectly, was the creature.

“Oh gosh ,” she gasped. “It’s huge.”

The creature straightened, startled, revealing a scruffy man with gardening gloves, a tangled beard, and a determined expression.

“Bloody gorse,” he muttered, tugging at a stubborn root.

Ros jumped back. “You’re not a marsupial!”

The man blinked. “Na.”

There was a pause, only broken by a nearby kookaburra cackling at the absurdity of it all.

“I’m with the pohag” Landcare group,” Bill explained, pointing to a faded badge on his sleeve. “Voluntary gorse removal. It’s a menace. Spreads like gossip.”

Ros lowered her binoculars sheepishly. “Sorry. I thought you were… something endangered.”

Bill chuckled. “Only thing endangered here is my lower back.”

Original Artwork by Misa Gelin

95cm x 95cm

Acrylic & Oil Stick

Framed In Oak