Vol.02: Editor’s Essay
If you listen, not even that closely, you can hear the country writhing with life.A chorus of cane toads calling from the gully, the buzz of a billion mosquitos, and the rumble of tractors as they drag slashers through shoulder-high grass.
Continuous rain nurtures the sea of green, allowing it to seed and flourish. Water seeps into the earth, and dormant plants reawaken - like the rain lily, that canary in the coal mine of good seasons. You almost forget the bottle trees that didn't make it through the big dry because all around you trees are waving their fluorescent new growth.
It was Australia's wettest November in 122 years, and satellites tell you the thin, emerald strip that encircles our island has grown fatter. But the guts is still brown, and it always will be.
The country wraps you in an organic embrace and invites you to stay a while. Before, dusty winds felt hostile, angry and thirsty. You think of all the dust particles now. They're not in your curtains, in the seal of your fridge, or coating the fruit in your fruit bowl. They're wrapped around the roots of grass and crops. They have a job to do.