Sixty years ago my mothers family immigrated from the Netherlands to a farm in Caveside, Tasmania. Like many post war immigrants they were eager to show their families back home what their new life was like so my Grandfather Jacob had a neighbour shoot this short super eight film.
Lost for the last 57 years and only recently rediscovered in a great aunt's possessions in Holland, it has finally made it's way back to my family.
I have lost count of the number of times I have watched this little film over the last week. I am mesmerised by the moving image of my mother as a child, so familiar and so long ago. My mother passed away when I was quite young, but I still remember the many stories she told me about growing up at the base of the Western Tears (that rather formidable looking mountain range in the background). Fearless and full of adventure my mother and her sisters owned that mountain range, dotting it with cubby houses and wrapping it in beaten paths.
Visually the film is just a delight, all those red bows, dresses and that big red tractor. I wonder if they were aware that red would look extra snazzy on film? I seriously doubt it, but it is a lovely accident anyway.