SARSFIELD NR BAIRNSDALE
JULY 11
THIS morning we decided to explore our surroundings
properly in the glorious, weak sun. We saw kangaroos hopping along the western
border fence last evening. We all headed out that way, opening gates. I ‘lost’
the others, preferring to wander alone in the deepest parts of the fields
before the borderline. Surrounded by vast plains and heather blazing on the
ground all about me, and large stretches of comforting emptiness on all sides,
I wanted time to stand still. I thought about next week, and traffic, and
shops, and fences and brick walls, and people and work and getting up early,
and public transport, and fears and challenges and responsibilities, and I
wanted time to stand still. I actually wanted time to stop. Right at that
instant I felt the most free for a long time, then thought of Andrew Marvell’s
refrain, which I learnt in Year 12:
‘But at my back I always hear,
Time's-winged chariot hurrying near.’
We renewed acquaintances with all of the charming
creatures of the land. Sheep bursting to give birth and tiny new born lambs;
the friendly and itchy black and white boar who is destined to have an
unusually long life; the little pigs drowsy and pressed close to each other for
warmth and comfort in their pen; ‘Boomer’ the border collie scampering around
everywhere chasing our sticks; the black cows and the bull who invited us to
get reasonably close to them but still keep a respectful distance; and finally
the ducks and geese who are free range but act, timidly, like the ducks and
geese back home at Coburg Lake.
Running adjacent to the road here sure beats running adjacent to Sydney Road back home. The gravel path next to the highway provided some softness. I made it to Bruthen just as the rest of the family pulled up in their car. Good timing.
Running adjacent to the road here sure beats running adjacent to Sydney Road back home. The gravel path next to the highway provided some softness. I made it to Bruthen just as the rest of the family pulled up in their car. Good timing.
We called in at the lovely Bruthen pub as we did a few
years ago and talked to the lady at the bar about local wineries. Nicholson
River wines off Duncan Road were lovely- well, the reds at any rate which is
what we tried.
I have started thinking about how much S has changed.
More so than A. She is wearing jeans all of a sudden after espousing derision
towards them all this time. She is wandering off on her own a lot, running
ahead and wanting to be independent. She wants to try all these new things. And
as we drive, she has been looking ahead reading the roadway signs as they
emerge, which is what I think I once did.