Tarmac stretches ahead. The joy of the open road – not a cliche.
Big skies. So good to see big skies again.
Heat haze shimmer.
Silence of the bush.
Bull Ants nests.
Bush smell. I want to bottle it.
People trying hard.
Trucks, so many trucks transporting grain.
Painted silos. We lean into their stories.
Water skiing, wakeboarding and boats.
Small town museums.
Eating an icy pole on a 37-degree day after swimming at Murtoa pool is the best.
Faded ghost signs.
Giant moths buzzing around a light pole at 2am.
Lake Tyrrell, pink in the evening light. No bird calls.
Community spirit is not a cliche.
Country bakeries are the bee’s knees.
Country pubs are the bee’s knees.
Country pubs need people.
Country towns need people.
Grand old buildings give me hope.
Wide brown lane is not a cliche.
Community is not a cliche- it’s all we have.
My country, our country.