![]() ![]() After time overseas experiencing English country life, I was married in a tiny, Virginia-creeper covered country church, near Uralla, NSW. I returned home and went to a country university. And while the accents might be different, everyone still knew each other’s names. Golden aspens shivered in the autumn air instead of evergreen gum trees. Elk grazed in my front yard instead of kangaroos. Here my attachment to rural areas and small towns grew. ![]() Post-school, I lived in the Rocky Mountains in Colorado as an exchange student. And small communities are the heart of the bush. Summer days were spent catching yabbies in dams and wet winter afternoons riding through temporary creeks. The eldest of seven children, I grew up chasing sheep on a family farm outside Tamworth. I feel the most at home when surrounded by isolation instead of neighbours. I feel the most serene when silence is interrupted by cicadas and not sirens. I feel the safest when a night sky is lit by stars not streetlamps. I’ve always lived far from the city fringe. Country life has a way of slipping into your psyche and holding you close so you never want to leave. ![]()
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