There’s a lot you don’t know.

"There's a lot you don't know." It's a quote in which has swirled my mind during the week as I spend time watching kilometres tick over. Maybe, after the years of denial in fear, our Aboriginal blood has sang to the remainder of my Grandmother's body. Maybe now the secrets and trauma can start to heal. Maybe the minds are changing, and the rest can flourish.

Thankful for

After being called in early for a flight back home, we boarded a little before schedule, headed out toward Mudgee, before Taree. In an attempt to connect and learn, I yarned on the first leg. Then the second was in awe of the fire that took the Mid North Coast. A firestorm week, full of radio mismatch and constantly updating social media feeds. All while our Worimi land burned.

Beyond the thinking of the everyday man

My mind turns to the soil under my feet. Our home is within moments of a traditional Bora Ring, the saleyards nearby marked by tree carvings to symbol sacred ground and the Buccan Buccan sings in the sun of men’s business. Reflected in shadows peacefully on the ground. Here, birds chirp with meaning and crows gossip on the handrail across country for understanding. Together, we search for modern relevance and understanding.

The same earth.

We are embraced by the same Mother Earth, founded by Biame and built on Black Lore. Founded on principles guided by the land, our culture sings her songs, responds to the stories of the past and is guided by Elders. This is the same Earth, the same mapped landscape since eternity. Our guide.

Sharing is keeping

I called in Friday afternoon to spend some time with the horses, watching them connect and cherish their new friendship. A true gentle nature is more than evident, as they slowly share a pat and brush. Despite the hustle of a mobile phone connected life, these odes to the old times showcase and demand true connection.

Ahh, life.

The garden has started to thrive despite the lack of rain, with broccoli forming and the other plants growing quite well.

Gardeners delight

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.

All in time

Polly seemed to ensure we didn't get much sleep Friday night, finding joy sleeping inside and being captured by the shadows forming outside. Before long the 5:30 alarm made itself known, shouting at the rooster for his sleep in. The next 30 minutes moved slow, and then it was off.

Growth

The alarm sounded at 3 on Saturday morning, awoken to a cup of coffee, quick shower and an early morning drive. Back up north, we loaded the Morris and turned straight back around down south. The Morris Eight demands a bit more attention in the sunlight, as the 70 year old car tells her story of a different past.

Good for Boorowa

Along new and familiar roads, the car's tyres moved to the beat of some country tunes and podcast pondering. It was a week of new thinking, new wisdom and new pushing, all on old country. But the words of a familiar folk named Sparkles caught me off guard with a simple comment- it's good for Boorowa.

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