As I sit at home looking out my office window at the pouring rain, the gullies spreading across the flats, the bywashing dams, having measured over six inches for this week, probably another two since emptying the guage this morning, as I listen to the kids in the lounge room, having just finished erecting the Christmas tree, floodbound, unable to get to school, cricket blaring on the radio, I can't help but remember this time last year.
As we worked tirelessly to keep our cows alive, as neighbours were shooting cattle on a daily basis, we poured resources into keeping these girls strong, and we did. We managed to save all but one or two. One heifer who fell into a molasses trough, and became sufficiently stressed that she couldn't recover, another calf who shared a similar fate, but all in all a good result.
Today, my view from the verandah is vastly different:
And even though I'm struggling to ebb the great tide of water that is trying desperately to flood the laundry, even though the stench of an overflowing septic system is a little off-putting, even though Matthew was forced to turn back due to flooding across the highway and couldn't make it to today's store sale, there are still no complaints.