On a centre stage I connected. Blessed, and in the presence of a greater strength, words flowed about my family, climate change and agriculture. I look back at my family’s history and find hope. Hope for a better future. Hope for change.
The trip to Sydney had me pondering. I wondered about connection, about the youth who will lead society into future hands and how they will engage. Enlightened, cautious, understanding.
The tales of my family led me back to Worimi country, reigning a foreign horse on beating ground. Around the river hills we trekked, marching to a lulled didge by an eternally lit subdued campfire.
As lucerne chaff fills endless buckets for Izz, the view of familiar named mountains stand tall over the landscape. Then the city called, demanding attention during gloomy days.
It was then on to new views for agricultural thoughts, learning on new ground.
From a market I began to wonder about my family’s butcher shop times and whether this could be relevant once again. Whether setting up a new shop would work and flourish, like I remember as a child.
And back at home I wonder of legacy. Of whether I just forge a new path and hope.
But for now I’m heading back to Boorowa town, with the hope of pondering some more.