I love the Kimba countryside this time of year. There is green peeping through everywhere, the skies are the bluest blue imaginable, the days are warm, the nights are mild and there is an air of hope and optimism within the community. It is Seeding Time. A time of new beginnings, of wonder, the start of a new cropping season.
Our farms are a hive of activity, tractors (bloody big ones) with airseeder boxes and bars, 18.5 metres (60 feet), slowly trawling up and back the paddocks, relentlessly covering every single centimetre of arable dirt, guided with pinpoint accuracy – GPS steering. Driving down the race to see the Husband, seeing the ruler straight furrows as far as the eye can see, like a giant rich brown, undulating Fishermans Rib knit jumper, makes me feel good. To be a part of something that is so much bigger than our little lives, so intrinsic to our very existance – feeding the nation and the world. What we do really matters, I think we need to remember this more often.
Fertiliser and seed being buried at optimum depth, nicely patted down with press-wheels. Snug in a cocoon of rich, friable soil, ripe with organic matter, awaiting for that most amazing of all natural things – germination. Little things, like germination, that occur with or without us interfering – blow my mind if I think about them too much – it awes me in the original, proper sense of the word.
And yes, there is the Boomspray too. Love it or hate it, chemicals are a vital part of our farming life. It is a most ungainly looking apparatus when in operation, creepy wing-like protrusions extending 15.5 metres (50 feet), either side of the tank and machine in the middle.
Then there is the truck, laden with seed and super, squatting patiently in the corner of the paddock, like a dog awaiting a call from his master. Ready to lumber into action and refill the bins of the airseeder, then rumble back to another place to get another load and do it all over again. A quick play with it’s mate the Front End Loader completes the refill and back to the corner of the paddock once more.
There is re-fuelling the machinery, and servicing too, not to mention that the sheep still need checking and shifting to greener pastures, and the freshest, brightest-white lambs are everywhere, water tanks and pipelines to be monitored. Daily farm life rolls on, undeterred by the frenetic activity occurring in the paddocks going into crop. It really is the most wonderful time.
The kids miss their Dad. Days and days go by when Husband is gone from the house well before the sun (let alone the kids), has risen, only to return somewhere around the witching hour to shower and grab a couple of hours of sleep before doing it all again. It is much like Groundhog Day for 6 long weeks, day in, day out, morning, noon and night.
It is Seeding Time. And sunsets like this, make it all the more beautiful.