We drive past it often,
just a patch of scrub
by the roadside,
in a plain of open farmland,
reaching to the horizon,
but it has a story.
One Sunday afternoon,
in the early days of our settlement,
Robert and Louisa Fry
went driving in their gig
but never returned home.
Louisa was murdered by Robert
that afternoon,
followed by Robert’s suicide
some months later.
Louisa’s remains were found,
badly decomposed,
and buried on site
without a headstone;
Robert’s nearby
and buried in a local cemetery.
Superstition, respect
and convenience
have kept the clump
over subsequent generations,
a landmark and a point of reference
by the side of the road –
a feature passed by many
but known by few -
“Fry’s Clump”.
Aug 25, 2022
Aug 25, 2022 at 2:13 AM UTC
We drive past it often,
just a patch of scrub
by the roadside,
in a plain of open farmland,
reaching to the horizon,
but it has a story.
One Sunday afternoon,
in the early days of our settlement,
Robert and Louisa Fry
went driving in their gig
but never returned home.
Louisa was murdered by Robert
that afternoon,
followed by Robert’s suicide
some months later.
Louisa’s remains were found,
badly decomposed,
and buried on site
without a headstone;
Robert’s nearby
and buried in a local cemetery.
Superstition, respect
and convenience
have kept the clump
over subsequent generations,
a landmark and a point of reference
by the side of the road –
a feature passed by many
but known by few -
“Fry’s Clump”.
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