I went home for the weekend and being down on my parent's farm reminded me just why I love the country so much. The fresh air, the smell of wood smoke gently wafting on the breeze from a log that was still burning in the bush where Dad had been doing control burning before summer comes around, the space and being able to look up and see the stars reaching from horizon to horizon not dimmed by the glow of city lights.
Two luxurious mornings when my cat woke me up by landing on my bed then settling down to purr very loudly, a dog so happy to see you that she wiggled and an assortment of pet sheep who were pleased to see you as long as you had crushed oats with you.
It was lovely to spend the weekend in quiet pursuits: visiting all the plants in the garden, weeding the roses, planning out some new cupboards for the house and sitting sewing with Mum. I didn't open my computer all weekend and being mainly out of mobile phone reception I didn't have to worry about calls and texts. I finished my Saturday with a stroll through the bush and down the paddock where my world was bounded by bush on three sides and the purply-blue hills rising above the bush, dotted by neat squares of green paddocks.
Driving back on Sunday in the sunshine was a fitting end to my weekend. As I travelled north the rippling green paddocks of oats and wheat became interspersed with paddocks of canola in full flower, gorgeous stretches of brilliant yellow that looked painted until you got close enough to see the rows of plants. The whole world smelt of spring and life and growing things and it made me want to get out and plant something. The air was crisp and the sunshine warm and I was sad to leave it all to come back to the hustle and bustle of life in the city. But I did stop by the garden store once I arrived to buy some more seedlings.
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