When you speak

The heat of last Saturday seemed to be the perfect time to start building a veggie garden in our otherwise fairly empty backyard. Scorching the Earth and threatening more due to our changing climate, it was no wonder this season has been reflected as one of the worst since colonisation. Yet if people listened to our Indigenous Elders, they would understand that these severities aren't just from modern times.  Just more common, just more severe. 

Rethinking living

Amidst the early morning Gloucester fog, a cows head emerged near the roadside. Sitting patient in the field, the car noise seldom worried him. Ettamogah, a placid braford bull was the joy of my early drive to Sydney, signifying time and in many ways life. Somehow, he was at the right place at the right time, just like each of us. 

We have much to learn

"We have much to learn". These are the words enthusiastically sprouted from Sydney's Mayor Clover Moore at the Indigenous Streams Summit on Wednesday. Together at the National Centre of Indigenous Excellence, our mob got together to share stories of wisdom, strength and optimism in a world where our knowledge is often forgotten or devalued. Unhushed, these voices awaken to honest discussion. Lived freely through the words of our people. 

Another drafting yard

Chasing rainbows to the farm end, the welcomed rainfall greened the countryside further, encouraging more growth. It's crazy to think that in the past few weeks our rainfall has been measured again in the inches once again, refreshing the landscape and those dependent upon its revival in our area. Growth now awaiting time yet again.

Every little bit…

As the storms danced their way around the mountains, the temptation of rain teased the needy ground, desperate for a little bit more. Slowly the clouds opened up, unearthing more questions and false hope. Would this be enough for now? Will this get us through until the next fall? On and on the cycle goes, but ever vigilant that what we need is every little bit.

Farm Focused

Soil hasn't truly reached the soles of my worn out pair of boots, calves have only played together in my mind and notion of stepping up farming has just been tinkering in my thoughts. My eyes have only been cast across this landscape once this week, but there is a feeling things are getting ahead. Growing optimism from a few drops of rain. 

More.

The press seems to flow a bit steadier this week, with time spent in motion travelling along past routes. Penchant a lapse of sleep in recent days strangles days like these, warmer scorched earth and optimistic ground peeking interest in the mind. Slowly, it catches up, taking effort and distorting thoughts.

Another Bale of Golden Fleece

Down Kenyu Road the lambs play, darting optimistically to a new season and the chance of later rain. It's a road I've come to love, every turn, every rolling green hill nestled in the landscape and each tree guarding from the weather above. Just out past the coffee shop and bridge where it all started.

Listening to Black Mary.

Following the wisdom flowing from our team last week, I was guided to listen. Just find the right people and absorb what is there, asking questions to chase the story and note what is not said, what is left in the space between us. Often they are words too hard to share, too painful to re-live as a memory or thought, let alone living in the shoes.  Just listen.

A legacy to keep?

Just over 7 hours is the drive between Gloucester and Boorowa, broken down into two seamless long extended straight lines with strong city lights to break up the trip. Yet somehow, the same tall trees seem to sing me into the little town where I grew up, a place that somehow still feels of home despite the distance. Ignorant to the time spent past, my mind still drifts to blocking the streets as a child to play cricket with anyone who stopped in, connecting with nature and animals like best friends and bonfire smoke that broke up the cool nights between the town.

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