from city to country
I came to the Wheatbelt in the mid-80s as a 19-year-old and never left. I always thought about leaving though, returning to the city, to my family; my daughters, sisters and brothers, and parents. I longed to go back to the colours and the lights of the city, the people, culture, entertainment, and friends.
My first memories of arriving here were of the most spectacular looking purple trees that lined most of the streets.
In that first year, I hated the place because I didn’t understand the order of things in the country. A few experiences come to mind, like going to the local op shop and being asked why I was there. The implication was that I couldn’t be so financially strapped to be buying second-hand clothes. Or, being asked by a store owner when the farmer was going to make a decent woman out of me because we weren’t married.
I felt like an outsider, and to some extent still do. To manage over this long period of time, I simply tried to remain aloof from the townspeople for fear of creating some form of misunderstanding as to who I really was.
Don’t get me wrong, the country has been very good to me. It has kept me stable, settled, and well (physically, mentally, and emotionally) most of the time. It’s time to move again. The next generation is here now.
Now that we will leave (sooner or later), I am feeling various emotions. Fear of change is perhaps the most constant. I reflect on my life here on the farm and acknowledge the beauty of the landscapes, the quiet sanctuary where the pressures of life outside don’t exist. Having lived, loved, and learned here, it’s time to leave, find new things to do, new places to see, and new landscapes to enjoy. We can always come back. I love the place even more now that the threat of moving on is looming closer.
