The Solena Pavilion
June 2025
Ecological Observation and Survey Hub
Set on a forested hillcrest, the Solena Pavilion is a light,
modular frame of timber and steel, raised to let the wind,
light, and shadow pass unhindered. Inspired by the
Bundanon Bridge and rural field shelters, it shapes space
as an opening rather than an object, letting the forest’s
voice move through; leaves rustling, branches swaying,
birds calling. Like the nightingale to the rose, it exists not
to possess beauty, but to be present with it, inviting
visitors to pause and hear the echo in the canopy.
P R E L U D E
“When the heart has seen the sweetheart,
how can it remain bitter? how can it remain bitter?
When a nightingale has seen the rose, When a nightingale has seen the rose,
how can it keep from singing?”
At the crest, where forest leans into sky,
Solena stands above the slope, Solena stands above the slope,
Her lattice open to wind and light, Her lattice open to wind and light,
raised to let the earth remain as it was. raised to let the earth remain as it was.
She rests within the breath of trees, She rests within the breath of trees,
letting shadow, air, and sun pass, letting shadow, air, and sun pass,
without grasp or claim to any other. without grasp or claim to any other.
Like the nightingale to the rose, Like the nightingale to the rose,
it is drawn here by beauty alone. it is drawn here by beauty alone.
The wind becomes its song, The wind becomes its song,
the canopy its listening audience. the canopy its listening audience.
Not an object, rather a threshold, Not an object, rather a threshold,
between soil and air, between soil and air,
between the seen and the felt.
Sometimes beauty calls without speaking, Sometimes beauty calls without speaking,
a stirring beneath the surface, a stirring beneath the surface,
like a whisper carried through leaves. like a whisper carried through leaves.
The nightingale sings to the rose, The nightingale sings to the rose,
not to be answered or seen, not to be answered or seen,
but because beauty is worth the song. but because beauty is worth the song.
Solena answers the hill in the same way: Solena answers the hill in the same way:
not to hold it, nor to frame it as possession, not to hold it, nor to frame it as possession,
but to give the wind a place to sound and pass on. but to give the wind a place to sound and pass on.
The lattice sway, The lattice sway,
light scatters, light scatters,
shade deepens… shade deepens…
A quiet devotion to the land that shapes it. A quiet devotion to the land that shapes it.
To follow beauty is to surrender without demand, To follow beauty is to surrender without demand,
to stand where the sun touches the ridge to stand where the sun touches the ridge
and hear the voice in the wind. and hear the voice in the wind.
Love unspoken, unbound, Love unspoken, unbound,
keeping company rather than holding.
Shaped as the hill’s inverse,
Solena gives the wind passage, Solena gives the wind passage,
never standing against her path. never standing against her path.
It rests where slope meets sky, It rests where slope meets sky,
letting the air move as it always has, letting the air move as it always has,
between trees, over the crest. between trees, over the crest.
When the wind meets its lattice, When the wind meets its lattice,
the sound changes, the sound changes,
softened, scattered, softened, scattered,
carried onward into the canopy. carried onward into the canopy.
Leaves rustle, branches sway, Leaves rustle, branches sway,
birds answer from hidden perches, birds answer from hidden perches,
a song sung back by the forest. a song sung back by the forest.
Her arms reach like branches into the breeze, Her arms reach like branches into the breeze,
its frame breaking wind into fine threads of motion. its frame breaking wind into fine threads of motion.
She travels through timber and steel She travels through timber and steel
woven into the wind’s own journey. woven into the wind’s own journey.
Like the nightingale’s gift to the rose, Like the nightingale’s gift to the rose,
it asks for nothing, it asks for nothing,
yet remains, yet remains,
an offering answered only by the soil.
The wind arrives unexpectedly,
passing through like a moving crowd,
leaving only the rustle of trees
and the land’s own reply…
A reflection of a life once known.
Through Solena, fractured light drifts,
carrying words and music into the forest.
Perhaps no ear has heard her song;
perhaps only the moon listens.
Yet it continues…
embers beneath the ash,
burning to keep the lighthouse lit
for waters where no ships pass,
each flame fed by words never spoken.
To find the song, a door must open.
one glimpsed in the corner of the eye.
To stand in the hush between leaf and sky,
and hear, faintly,
the echo of the canopy.
