Life in the Village and beyond, based around the interests of my life.

Life in the Village and beyond, based around the interests of my life. Sunset at Telegraph Point.

Friday, February 22, 2013

Timbertown - An 1800's Experience

Our Hastings Woodworkers Guild Workshops and Clubrooms are situated in Timbertown - the historic 1800's theme village at Wauchope NSW.
While we are not busy with club projects or clubroom duties, it is a joy to wander the village and encounter the characters who enliven the day to day.


an extract
Beside his heavy-shouldered team 
thirsty with drought and chilled with rain, 
he weathered all the striding years 
till they ran widdershins in his brain: 

Till the long solitary tracks 

etched deeper with each lurching load 
were populous before his eyes, 
and fiends and angels used his road.

All the long straining journey grew 
a mad apocalyptic dream, 
and he old Moses, and the slaves 
his suffering and stubborn team. 

Then in his evening camp beneath 
the half-light pillars of the trees
he filled the steepled cone of night 
with shouted prayers and prophecies.

While past the campfire's crimson ring 
the star struck darkness cupped him round.
and centuries of cattle-bells 
rang with their sweet uneasy sound. 
From Judith Wright

The Village Blacksmith
an extract

Under a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate'er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.

And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing-floor.

Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of lifeOur fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought!
 From Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

With special thanks to Craig the Bullocky and Doug the Smithy from Timbertown


  1. Tom thanks for this post I always loved visiting Timbertown when touring. They are great photos I love that shot of the Smithy and the sparks flying that' s spectacular.

    The smells around the Town are still with me Steam, Coke, Wood fires, Fresh Bread being baked.

  2. Thanks Ray.
    I never saw the sparks and neither did Craig. It was that moment in time, captured by the camera on a slow shutter, that left the spark trails.
    If you are remembering smells, don't forget horse manure - plenty of that around Timbertown.
    And up at our Shed - plenty of camphor laurel. We use a lot of that timber - since it is free.

  3. Thanks Saaara - it was fun taking them too.