In this age of instant coffee and silicon implants, it is hardly surprising that there is something of a clamour for an instant icon to replace One Tree Hill's fallen pine.
Wait 100 years for a sapling to mature naturally? No way.
We want a full blooming, horizon-blocking pohutukawa by next summer.
And if we can't have that, then we'll have a full-sized bronze replica of the dear-departed pinus radiata (Monterey pine if you want to be classy) instead.
The clamour for a metallic replica has even reached the ears of Wellington mayor Mark Blumsky. In sympathy, he ratted around the capital's garden shed and unearthed a couple of spare copper nikaus, one of which he has kindly offered to donate to Auckland.
Identical to those in Wellington's Civic Square, he says its icon status "is already well established." Also, "it carries the advantage that it is pre-reared, saving Aucklanders a lengthy wait for it to mature."
All very droll. But at a mere 10m, hardly the towering replacement we Aucklanders seem to need.
For that, maybe we should look to Dushko Bogunovich, associate professor of urban design and environmental planning at Unitec.
Professor Bogunovich proposes a high-tech, knowledge economy solution that involves not only pohutukawa or other native seedlings, but also a giant solar-powered "silicon totara."
The high-tech totara would simultaneously play nursemaid to the seedlings and be an artistic installation in the landscape, filling the void he senses Aucklanders experience when they look towards the hill.
When he first e-mailed me with the idea last week, I admit it went into my "cor blimey" file.
Since then, it has started to grow on me. It is just off the wall enough to catch on, both locally and internationally.
He calls it a "once-in-a-century opportunity to make a political, cultural and artistic statement which could influence the way the nation thinks and feels and in the process attract international attention." He sees it as a way to artistically and technically stick our heads above the world's horizon.
The technical side first - create an elaborate, self-propelled plant-minding apparatus using the latest in sophisticated engineering techniques.
In a way he proposes a space-age version of those wonderful cartoon contraptions of Heath Robinson, which achieved simple tasks by employing the most bewildering array of cogs and pulleys and steam engines.
In the case of the Bogunovich totara, the energy would come from solar power, collected by broad-leaf panels spreading out from the "tree." This power would drive a computerised nanny devoted solely to ensuring the survival of the seedlings.
Monitors would record wind speed and temperatures, activating protective screens when the climate turned nasty.
If the ground gets too dry, nanny will wet it. If the seedlings get hungry, nutrients will flow. If men with chainsaws appear - then protective measures will go into action.
We all know New Zealand nannies are the world's best, and this one is no exception.
Everything about the professor's totara will be New Zealand-made, a showcase of local ingenuity and inventiveness.
As for cost, he hasn't a clue. "To me it's free."
He reckons New Zealand high-tech companies will fall over each other to climb aboard his tree - and pay for the chance.
The design? That would be over to the engineers and sculptor involved, but apart from a central trunk, he does not favour too literal an imitation of a tree.
He says we have a gap of 50 or more years before anything organic can show up on the horizon to replace the pine.
This is our chance to project an image to the world beyond magnificent landscapes.
"A piece of high technology at such a prominent site in New Zealand's biggest city whose sole purpose lies in a peculiar mix of biological, ecological and humanistic objectives would be a clear message to the world what it needs to do with its abundant technology - use it to heal the planet."
I prefer to see it as the 21st century equivalent of the cuckoo clock. A memorable piece of high-tech fun. Either way, it should do our international image no harm at all. Ask the Swiss.
Read more from our Herald columnists
Herald Online feature: Tree on the Hill
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Should we replace the tree on One Tree Hill?
E-mail Bernard Orsman
In this age of instant coffee and silicon implants, it is hardly surprising that there is something of a clamour for an instant icon to replace One Tree Hill's fallen pine.
Wait 100 years for a sapling to mature naturally? No way.
We want a full blooming, horizon-blocking pohutukawa by next summer.
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