It's an unseasonably balmy spring evening in downtown Gunning. The sun is slowly dipping into the western sky and the cockatoos are squawking high in the canopy of the century-old pine trees that stand sentinel near the entrance to the town's shire hall.
A steady flow of hobby farmers and tree changers wander up the concrete steps and into the corrugated iron-clad hall which is looking schmick after a fresh lick of paint and new lights.
