1784, an artist’s impression
The yellow daisies have almost finished flowering, and their juicy, nutritious roots are ready to be dug out of the ground. Smoke rises from a campfire on the banks of Darebin creek, and a group of children play a game of “Marngrook”. Here the passing of time is marked by the rhythm of the seasons. It has always been so, but change is about to come to the grasslands. There are whispers on the wind of pale strangers arriving, many days’ journey to the north. Elsewhere, where time is measured differently, it is the year 1784…
“Murnong Harvest c. 1784”, Amaria Stark, acrylic on wood panel 2023
To prepare the backdrop for “Silent Sentinel”, I took photos in our local area from points where there were uninterrupted views of the granite hills, which form a prominent and recognisable feature of our landscape, and whose shape would have changed little over three hundred years. The foreground of these images, though still free from housing developments, featured cleared farms and grazing land. I wondered how different the natural grassland would have looked before the settlers arrived. In my mind’s eye I removed the rough drystone walls, dark pine-tree windbreaks and the scattered brick or bluestone buildings. There would have been trees and shrubs, of course- but what types, and how densely would they have grown? What sort of grass would have waved in the breeze, and what grassland flowers would have hidden there? I realised how little I knew and how much there was to discover!
The Plenty River forms the boundary between two distinct geological and ecological areas; the sandstone, mudstone and shale to the east supports forests of tall trees, while volcanic lava flows which stopped at the river formed the extensive basalt plains which underlie the western grasslands. Looking for clues to how these grasslands looked before they were cleared for farming, I found this description:
“The thin soils supported a woodland of red gums among which could be found the bright yellow flowers of the Yam daisy in spring.”
My son had given me a copy of “Dark Emu” by Bruce Pascoe, in which I had read about murnong, or yam daisies. They were a staple food for the Wurundjeri people, who harvested the tuberous roots or “yams”. There is also evidence that suggests they actively cultivated the plants. Early written records describe various ways used to cook these roots. One method was to steam them in woven baskets which were covered with wet leaves and placed into pre-heated ovens from which the embers had been removed.
With the introduction of livestock, especially sheep, the murnong which had once been so abundant all but disappeared from the landscape. Today it is rare to find them growing in the wild. I began noticing yellow daisies everywhere, but on inspection they always turned out to be introduced weeds such as dandelions or cats-ear daisies. Wanting a reference for my illustration, I eventually visited the indigenous plant nursery at LaTrobe university and bought a few samples to grow for myself. In the interests of research I later pulled one up to look at the tubers first hand. (The variety available was Microseris lanceolata, which would have grown in the hills, rather than M. walteri which thrived on the wooded grasslands. Both were harvested for food.)
The illustration above, depicting the Murnong harvest, is an artist’s impression of a moment in time, before the European settlers arrived and brought change. While I have allowed myself some artistic license I have also tried to set a scene that is as authentic as possible.
References: City of Whittlesea heritage Study , Murnong