How is your sense of self shaped by the place you live? The geology, the topography, the climate, the weather, the land, the bush. Do you tread sandy granite under foot, crunch on shards of slate and shale or squelch through clammy clay. Do you dwell by a babbling brook in a green gully, or high up in the rolling hills, perched precariously on a rocky ridge, exposed to the elements. The town of Castlemaine, our social hub, was plonked in an odd place for a country town. As the colony spread out from the point of embarkation, burgeoning like a well fed cancer, the sheep led the way. When they happened upon a grassy river flat, there they stayed, the shepherds followed suit. But this particular town was built on gold. It began with a violent and ferocious attack on the land and every living thing upon it. Devastation on a monumental scale! Yet ironically enough, those gold bearing hills have been saved from the rapacious pastora...
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