“Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs.
I am haunted by waters.”
~ Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It and Other Stories
Yesterday we came home. It’s a flying visit to the farm – a quick overnight to pick up some clothes, some paperwork and other things left behind in a hurry.
We still need to be back in Brisbane right now so that Ben can be close to doctors and hospitals while he heals. We head to the city later today.
But yesterday we came home.
The first thing we did was pile into the old farm ute and drive down to the river flats to check the cattle. They were fat and happy, there was plenty of feed, and all the water and fences (the things that farmers worry about) were in order.
So we strolled over to the river to look for the platypus, and we threw sticks for the dogs. A good time was had by all.
On the way back to the car we stopped at the site of an old bottle dump, from when the scrub was first cleared and a few woodcutter’s humpies were built back in the 1860’s. Each year more old glass and china fragments work their way to the surface. We gathered a few handfuls and came home to sit on the veranda as the sun set, being serenaded by frogs and cicadas, and the wind-chimes slowly tinkling in the light breeze.
Such simple, heartfelt magic! We can’t wait to be home again properly. We miss this place so much, but we are lucky to have fabulous neighbours watering our vegetable gardens and orchard, picking our harvest, and keeping an eye on our herd. Our treasured patch of land is in safe hands til we return. 🙂
