“Click go the shears boys, click, click, click,
Wide is his blow and his hands move quick,
The ringer looks around and is beaten by a blow,
And curses the old snagger with the bare-bellied yoe…”
It’s very quiet in the shearing shed, the day before shearing. Especially on a quiet winter’s day where the light sparkles. It’s something special after almost a year of drought, to gaze out upon green paddocks and pasture beginning to grow…
The shears were clicking today. If you listened to the song, it will require a whole other post from me to translate the different Aussie terms used, so we might leave that for another time. Suffice to say it’s an iconic tune that sums up the agricultural history of Australia beautifully.
Things that make one’s heart beat faster: Winter trees silhouetted on ‘Camden’ hill against a clear azure sky. Her Excellency the Governor General’s beautiful daffodil yellow suit with a purple flower pinned to the shoulder. 
The shorn sheep lying in winter sunshine, faces turned to a sunbeam. Me standing at the door of the shearing shed, face turned to a sunbeam. Today’s frost in first light – a comparison with diamonds and white gold filigree is not idle. A kookaburra’s call at ‘cut-out’, almost like a finishing bell. The pressed wool in bales, lined up like soldiers. The AAA stencil in black.
