Counting time on through events, reminds me of the ticking stopwatch used to count grain. The contrast of hard hands to tie off fence wire, yet soft enough to cradle lambs and handle sheep. Although 12 months has passed, it’s hard not to still feel your presence. A cracking season, healthy lambs and wool amassing faster than the period before. Still caretaking, still managing the landscape. The Quiet Stockman.
As we feed sheep yesterday morning, Nan’s drive just outstands me more. She lifts and then shifts hay in the back of the ute with ease, looking over the herd with a sense of accomplishment. Deep down I know she’s reflecting, but on the surface she keeps calm and confident. This is her moment, her farm, her vision.
If I rewind back to the end of last week, we started with a chilly night in our million star hotel. New swag in tow, we settled beneath an old tree and tucked in for the night. We awoke early to heavy horse filled displays and got in to prep Izz. Washed and ready to go, she displayed in her age class with ease and again to second place in the new exhibitor class.
That night, we sat by a bonfire as bush poetry filled our ears. The warmth of the fire (and another blanket) helped to get us through the night. The next day, we helped steward the working classes. Up close, somehow watching these animals flow is more fascinating. A click from the mouth or a slight usher enough to move them graciously. We are so thankful to get to attend this event- an absolute credit to the organisers who buy in to heavy horse longevity.
At home the garden continues to grow as fast as Polly, as firewood is delivered to prompt future cold nights. We also replaced the hot water system as it sparked cold, all systems go before the trip down south.
As I await the arrival of a book I can’t wait to get in to, a new suit helps to mold the alter ego. Somewhat clearer from the week, I’m looking forward to some sleep ins and relaxed days, while jotting down the next adventures.