Wooly bums…
No writing this afternoon, no swimming either … instead, bringing the ewes off the oat stubble on a stormy afternoon…
Through dust and dirt…
No writing this afternoon, no swimming either … instead, bringing the ewes off the oat stubble on a stormy afternoon…
Through dust and dirt…
“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…
Driving the hoggets to new pasture…
Almost there…
My offsider…
Waiting at the Old Highway pass for husband to drive the breeding ewes up over the hill with the ATV…
Through the pass and waiting in the holding paddock to head to the underpass beneath the Tasman Highway to the paddocks on the other side…