In the Hundred of Monarto heading up the Harrogate way,
On the banks of the River Bremer where grasses sweep & sway.
Mighty river red gums stand so majestic, tall & proud,
The rugged scarp a stairway to the mist & swirling cloud.
Reminders of an early time, of pioneers & their stock,
A homestead, walls & stables all made of stone & rock.
If history & horses are your passion this dream is meant to be,
conjure up your future, beneath the Magic Tree.
A place so steeped in heritage, full of character & charm,
Are you the next proud owner of the lovely Meaford Farm?

Places of incredible history & character capture your heart.

Meaford Farm is such a place, a place that has inspired poetry
& even though its facade has changed the history remains. All so evident in the stone walls & stables & the disused homestead. The stories these walls could tell, the smell of baking bread, the sounds of the organ and a mixture of voices in songs of hope & praise, wood fires with mantle clocks, boots by the door; sheep bleating objection to their surroundings as they wait to be dragged in the shearing shed, clicking shears; pipe smoke rising; fleeces being flung over tables, smells of leather & tins of dubbin, bright ribbons the spoils of competition, prancing hooves flicking dust, hay stacked high tempting cries of delight from scampering tykes.

The old homestead lays quiet now, the current home is only yards away with family cosily cosseted behind picture windows that overlook the Bremer & the towering trees along its banks.
The slow combustion warms the home, all four bedrooms and the rustic timber kitchen as well. This is a home with character of its own, polished timber floors, walking in is like pulling on your favourite jacket – ts comfortable, it just feels right – not ostentatious or pretentious. This is a family home.

Come & try it on for size.

The land (69 hectares approx)has been divided into 5 small paddocks & 3 larger ones to allow its current use as a stud for Shetland Ponies. There are large arable pasture areas suitable for hay interspersed with tree lots & shelter belts. Water is supplied to each paddock from a spring at the base of Pygmy Gully & 3 small dams catch groundwater. Fenced predominantly with ring lock & approx 40% electric also. Sheep graze contentedly among the horses & the farms cow JESSIE (who would love to stay at the farm if possible).

Enormous thought, love & effort has gone into the growth of this property. Respect for good land management principles has reduced weed growth to a minimum & tree plantings have preserved the soil & provided havens for flora & fauna.

The owners were attracted by the picturesque nature of the property, its character & potential to indulge their passionate love of animals & horses in particular. They have enjoyed the privacy but have never felt isolated being part of what they describe as the friendliest community they have ever known.

Meaford Farm is a place of captivating natural features from the rugged, stone covered scarp to the craggy Pygmy Gully & gentle tree lined Bremer.

However there is one feature that reflects the triumph of a struggle to survive :
Conjure up pictures of picnic rugs & hampers, drinks on ice, laughter and squeals of delight, food hastily consumed so games can resume, sunshine & dappled shade, family & friends together to enjoy. A quieter moment, a rest from the ride, a time of reflection & wonder, towering branches like hands reaching high with leaves like fingertips that touch the warming sun, natures meeting place, a place of resilience & growth.

Not something to be talked about or simply come to see
Its something to be experienced
It is The Magic Tree.

History: Thomas Smith built a stone homestead and an even more solid sheep shed and walled yard on the ease side of the river in the Hundred of Monarto ” ….behind the house & to its left …. a steep gully has been carved in the rocks of the face of the range. At the foot of this gully is a wonderful spring of water which, from the earliest times was recognised as a watering place of the local Aborigines” …..the steep little gully coming down to the spring has always been known as Pygmy Gully.

POEM
The Pygmy Gully Jewel

There’s a sparkling, glittering jewel
When the sun is overhead
In a gulley of The Ranges
Overlooking Meaford’s stead.

They called it Pygmy Gully
‘Ere Archie’s prosperous day
When this hardy Scottish sheepman
Made known the name of Hay.

Pygmy Gully’s a craggy gulch
That breaks out to the west
Through the sheer Bremer Scarp
That puts horsemen to the test.

Perhaps there was a pygmy
Of our swarthy southern race
Beneath those jutting rocks
In the gully’s rugged face

Maybe ’twas told the children
Who might wander into harm
Seeking the sparkling jewel
To explore its mystic charm.

From miles away you’ll see it;
From Hutchinson’s hilltop route,
From Burd Hill’s scrubby summit
Or from Honeysuckle’s shoot.

When if you’re hot and thirsty
Stalking foxes with gun
Halfway up the Bremer face
There’s water on the run!

For the Pygmy Jewel’s a broad rock
Sloping downwards and it’s wet
Sharp eyes will always spy it
Till The sun’s forever set
*Acknowledgement: From Burd Hill: A history of The Scrub Church & The Settlement of Meaford by A.R. Mills