I pulled in back home around 12:30 Saturday morning, somehow the time from plane to car dragged as I waited for my bag and then a cab. The morning counted second hands too quickly before the back road through Krambach reached Wingham. The home of wisdom sits seemingly vacant while I gather my thoughts of happier times. If only time favoured now- perhaps it would still be home.
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.
Flying back from New Zealand last week, I put on a movie and grabbed out a notebook to jot down some thoughts. To be honest, most of the thoughts are the same- the dream of farming on rolling hills, restoring and rebuilding the love of agriculture that flows from the blood of my ancestors, and understanding the role of my People in all of this today. The Worimi air and The Dance lyrics promised more, reminding me of the cause.
Anachronisms created mixed feelings this week, focused on farming across seas. While being exposed to some of the newest ag-tech at the MobileTech Conference this week in New Zealand, it's hard to remove the thought of Braford cattle roaming ancient Worimi country and Clydesdales pulling antique carts. Tech, or no tech, this joy keeps me awake at night.