Scottsdale is a town built on its history. Nestled in Tasmania’s north-east, it owes its name to James Reid Scott, the surveyor who first mapped the land in 1855. His words, “the best soil on the island … well watered, with a mild climate,” still echo today. Scott saw the potential, and it wasn’t long before settlers followed. In 1859, the first land was claimed, and by 1865, the hamlet of Ellesmere had its post office. In 1893, the town adopted the name Scottsdale.

The town’s roots are in farming. Potatoes were the first crop that took hold. The land gave generously, and soon dairy farms dotted the countryside. By the 20th century, pine plantations and poppy fields stretched as far as the eye could see. Even mining found its place, and while hops were once king, they gave way to new industries over time. The hop farms became dairy land or forests, a sign of how the town adapted to change.

Scottsdale’s people are used to change. But they are proud of their past. They remember how, in 1958, the Defence Nutrition Research Centre came to town. It brought jobs, science, and attention to this quiet place. It still stands today, though modernized by the Defence Science and Technology Organisation.

Tourism has breathed new life into Scottsdale. Surrounded by green fields and blue mountains, visitors come to see the Barnbougle Dunes and the Lost Farm Golf Links. Some wander through the Bridestowe Estate Lavender Farm, marveling at the endless purple fields. For a time, the Forest EcoCentre welcomed those curious about forestry. Though it has since closed, the forests remain a vital part of the region’s identity.

But change isn’t always kind. The closure of the North-East Tasmania Rail Line in the early 2000s hit the town hard. The line once connected Scottsdale to the rest of the state, bringing goods and people. When it closed, trucks took over the roads, and the railway was torn up. Some of it was repurposed for the Abt Wilderness Railway on the west coast. The town fought to keep it alive as a tourist railway, but that battle was lost. Now, the local Rotary Club has made part of the old track a bike trail.

King Street, the heart of Scottsdale, has felt the strain too. Empty shops dot the main street, as local businesses struggle to keep their doors open. Yet, the town endures. Its community is tight-knit, and they are used to weathering storms, both literal and figurative.

One such storm came in the form of a woman named Mabel Greene. Born and raised in Scottsdale, she had always been a part of the town’s fabric. Her father farmed potatoes, and her mother ran a small shop on King Street. Mabel was known for her strong will. Some called her stubborn, but those who knew her better called her determined.

In the early 1980s, when the town was still reeling from the changes in the farming industry, Mabel did something no one expected. She bought one of the failing hop farms. People whispered, “She’s lost her mind. Hops are dead.” But Mabel saw things differently.

One afternoon, in the local café, an old farmer named Jack Murphy asked her, “What’re you gonna do with all that land, Mabel? You’re not planting hops, are you?”

“No,” she said, sipping her tea. “I’m planting lavender.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Lavender? In Scottsdale? You sure about that?”

Mabel smiled. “Sure as I’ve ever been. People will come for it. You’ll see.”

And people did come. Mabel’s lavender fields bloomed, a sea of purple that stretched out under the blue sky. She started small, selling lavender oil and dried flowers at the market. But soon, word spread. Visitors from all over Tasmania and even the mainland came to see the fields in bloom. Mabel’s farm became one of the most popular stops in the region. She turned her home into a small bed and breakfast, welcoming travelers who came for the lavender and stayed for the hospitality.

Years later, when asked about her decision, Mabel would simply say, “Sometimes, you just have to plant something new.”

Her success was more than just personal. It showed the town that there was life beyond the traditional industries. It was a reminder that even in a place as rooted in history as Scottsdale, the future could still hold surprises.

Scottsdale remains a town in flux. Its people remember the past, but they look to the future. The fields are still green, the mountains still blue, and the soil, just as Scott once said, still gives generously. Whether through potatoes, lavender, or something yet unimagined, Scottsdale’s story continues to unfold.