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MARYSVILLE

One of my first holidays was at marysville. Living in Moonee Ponds, aged fifteen, the mountains seemed a long way from home. There was a train going to Healesville in the 1950s, then you caught a bus from there to Marysville

As we view the spectacular mountains we saw a small town like an English village nestled in the hills. In the main street  there were cafes and lolly shops. Travelling along the main street we saw many guest houses. The most famous was Marylands but we stayed at its sister Marylyne. It was a huge mansion with a wise front and many windows like the Tudor houses of England. Eight of the main guest houses burned down on Black Saturday one year ago. They onces lured Melbourne weekenders drawn by the Old English world of tea and scones followed  perhaps by a massage  and a stroll to Steavenson Falls.  Yet the falls remain closed. And not one of the guest houses have began to be rebuilt. These guest house were the main reason why 600 odd people called the town home.

There is some rebuilding. But will the dream return? Can the wooden buildings admist the greenery of the past return? Must the dream give way to the practicality of fire -proof concertr blocks.

The dream is no more. Marysville will be rebuil, but just like us, it can never return to its original state.