Lake Macquarie History

Break o'day Bulba

I am happy. I have awakened to find that dreams come true. In the gentle arms of Morpheus I have been treading on Holy Ground. All the beautiful musical numbers of the various operas have passed in melodious fragrance before my grateful spirit. "When all was young and pleasant, May was blooming!" "Alas those chimes so softly stealing!" "Softly awakes my Heart!" "Wolfram’s song (Maratana)" and a host of others, all beautifully interwoven. They begin to fade and a feeling of exquisite peace pervades my being.

photo: pulbah island from wangi

Slowly I open my eyes to the glory of the east, and my ears to the feathered orchestra of the bush. It is dawn on Bulba. Lemon and Rose break into the faintly starlit sky, diffusing the mystery of night, into the honesty of day.

Isolated banks of clouds are tinged with a red warm glow. Individual treesstand out clearly in every detail. Wangi Peninsula is boldly outlined, pointing her finger to Pelican Flats, now also emerging with the morn. A flaming crescent rises above the horizon. His Majesty, King Sol! Slowly he mounts to full view, diffusing radiance with a lavish hand and giving life to the new born day. The Lake becomes a wondrous jewel. Its many facets throwing back with rainbow tints the strengthening sunbeams. Sedately, like old time Galleons, a few pelicans cruise about the lake, while the shags plunge from their roosting oaks to begin the labours of the day. All the while our feathered songsters are in ecstasy now that the day returns. With rich round cadences the magpies make the silence of the bush resound with harmony. Like the reeded flute or the mellow notes of a cello. Joy personified in a black and white feathered masterpiece! Pee-wit, Soldier bird, Honey-eaters, Tits, Pigeons, Parrots and Doves, all give lusty voice to the break o'day. The feathered orchestra would be incomplete without that quaint old roisterer the Kookaburra, whose hearty laughter alone would dispel the early morning cob webs of the soul! Yes, 'tis dawn! Arise ye sluggards and share the pageantry of a new born day.

New life, a grip to your step, and a sparkle to your eye, are here for the taking. A plunge in the crystal cool depths of the lake and life is all aglow. Ye city hermits, come to Bulba. Taste and be conquered.

Awake for morning with her bowl of light

Has flung the stone that puts the stars to flight!

Thompson Noble. 25.9.1932.