The dogs had a ball in the puddles and bounding across the paddocks. We tagged along and enjoyed the green and the promise of more rain. In a week or so sowing will be in full swing. Oats is already out of the ground and the canola and wheat will be in by the end of the month. Here in Canberra architecture and engineering separate us from the soil and the weather and shield us from the reality of our dependence on them. Everywhere we went over the weekend people spoke of rain and the possibilities it opened up for growing crops and livestock. Their livelihoods and lives depend so immediately on it.
2 comments:
I remember just before your wedding, hopping out of the car to check the depth of water over the road.. and fishing for yabbies??
It's strange how different Myall Park is in reality compared to my memory of it. In some ways it is still the same - the same paddocks with the muddy road we all practiced driving on, the same trees we all built cubby houses against, the same smell of dust and eucalyptus, the same colour palette, the same mail box, the same houses and driveway. It's aged though. The old house is full of star grass and mouse droppings, old photographs still on the mantle, the doorways crooked with the shifting of the house. The woolshed is completely locked up - it was always off limits but that never stopped us exploring through that distinctive smell of sheep. The junk pile has been picked over and none of its treasures remain. The rose garden is all grown over and the lino has faded yellow.
The rain I think refreshed the land and the animals, but the human marks on the landscape seem to fade, to shrink into loneliness.
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