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.

It starts with connection

By the waters edge, a story swirls and seems to play out as it is told. The story written in the landscape proves the legitimacy of each word, confirming the time some 7,000 years ago. When the sea's shore was over 120 kilometres from where it is now, it's obvious this changing climate of ours is now speeding up.

Heavy Horses and Merino Memories

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.

Running.

This week started with some rain soaked fencing with Nan, working down on the other block to build a holding pen. It was then to Canberra for a road trip on Saturday before feeding sheep on Sunday.

Farm IT

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.

Appearance of perfection

I'm still not sure the ground is there, other than in soul and spirit singing out loud. Country tunes have guided me across familiar roads, as my phone revives from exhaustion from the constant calls. My tyres are tired from running, weary eyes peer outside the bags amassing under my eyes. But this week, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Clicked

I'm sitting in our new home. Views of the Buccan Buccan play through the rear windows as paint lines walls throughout. A soft breeze continues to provide life and flow here. Each breath an opportunity for new life.

A different sort of pace

Being back home this week has helped distil my thoughts from the last few, allowing time to see the stars and connect a few dots. A different time, a different momentum, all stacking up to what we see. And then eventually to what we don't. The past, left stagnant for what was, urging the creator to pay respect for the future.

Boorowa Basics

Rams roam in the front paddock along a tree lined driveway, connecting the Kenyu Road to the old farm homestead. Time trapped, stagnant, the old promising home seems a mere ruin to the naked eye. Yet in my heart, I know it promises much more.

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