stunted timber

My mother’s family is from a country town in the north west of Victoria called Patchewollock – this translates to Stunted Timber in English. We visited each year – hung out watching the shearers, played in the dams with countless cousins, ate lamb roast that my Pa had butchered himself and gorged on Nana’s baking. This is the colour of the dirt.

My grandparents are no longer with us but their house still remains. The house is falling down but it’s alive with memories.

I learnt to drive on the little red jeep in the stubble paddock when I was 13.

Many people find this part of Australia ugly but I love the gnarled Malle roots and scrub. You'll also find cacti and roses you’ll find in every self respecting garden.

Here’s the view arriving back into town from the farm.

There’s a little store with petrol pump and a pub. The pub was recently done up and serves food once again.

We scoffed (really, the only word) down on burgers with the lot and a few pots of Draught after the 6 hour road trip. There's a family rule that you can't leave the pub until the sun has set because it's too dangerous. So maybe more than a few pots were had...