Fields of Gold

A storm erupts over Perenjori, WA. Photographer: Ellie Morris.

Ellie Morris spends her days driving tractors, but it's storms that light her up.

It’s a chilly April evening, and goosebumps ripple up Ellie Morris’ arm that’s slung through the open window of her white ute.

She shivers and rolls down the sleeve of her work shirt. She loves this time of year: days are cooling and she's watching fire burn through the stubble of last year's wheat crop, in preparation for seeding.

"I'm often driving around with smoke drifting through the air," she says. "There are a lot of pink sunsets. It's more of a chilled vibe watching the fires burn but it's often quite busy getting ready for seeding."

The 21-year-old is a farmhand on a sheep and cropping property near Perenjori, in Western Australia's Wheatbelt. Instead of traditional seasons, Ellie's year is marked by the activities that consume them: autumn is burning off, winter is seeding and summer is harvest. She finds joy in all of them.

"During dry seeding, you get all the dust - and when the sun's setting it lights it up all golden. I often start in the dark during seeding and I'm on the tractor when the sun comes up. I love that first bit of glow in the morning."

"At harvest, there are lots of hot, dry days. It's been unreal around here though, more rain than we normally get and it's been almost a once-in-a-generation season. The crops have been amazing.”

Ellie works around 35 kilometres from her family farm ("the same place I've lived my whole life"), with her parents, two siblings, and grandmother, who home-schooled her for 12 years.

The Morris matriarch has spent four decades teaching - first Ellie's Dad, then her and her siblings ranging from ages 23 to 13. Lessons were flexible, to allow them to accompany their Dad on contracting trips.

Ellie started driving a tractor for a neighbour after school even though she never intended a career in farming, and grew to love the time outside and the photo opportunities her job brought.

She was a photographer before she was a farmer, so she sees most farm work through the artist's lens - and her colleagues have loved her view.

"At the end of harvest my boss said to me: 'it's been so good having you here because you see things differently. We don't even notice them but you'll get a photo that's like, wow.' I love that," she says. You can hear her smiling down the line.

As a child, she was always sketching and drawing - and after receiving her first camera as a gift at six - became a keen photographer. She captured the world around her - her animals, the farm, and before long, the electrical storms that hit her district with such force.

"I still hang out for the lightning so much. I just love it," she laughs. Her voice wobbles with a child-like excitement.

Perenjori is hot and flat - with 40°C summer days that produce storms you can see coming from tens of kilometres away. Electrical storms are particularly dramatic when they hit endless paddocks of golden wheat.

"When you get the big storm fronts coming at you with the structure - that's when it's really cool," Ellie says. "And then there's that bluey glow." She sighs. It's been a couple of years since Perenjori had a really active storm season and it's obvious Ellie is itching to capture some decent lightning. 

The north eastern Wheatbelt is uniquely beautiful - from the long red roads flanked by gum trees and iron-rich salt lakes, to the myriad of wildflowers that erupt every spring. Oversized skies are a major actor in most of Ellie's photography work - in the form of stormy scenes, or the absense of clouds as a header moves across a vast paddock.

Is it inevitable these landscapes become the focus of any photographer's work? "Oh, I'd like to take more photos of people," Ellie says. "But I'm quite shy. That's why I like my farm job, because it helps me get out and meet people."

Some have to travel far to find creative inspiration, but Ellie's relatively small pocket of Western Australia has delivered an abundance. She'd love to visit further afield - to the Kimberley perhaps - to chase dirt that's more red, and storms more violent. But for now, photography gives her enough independence.

"I just like being known as my own person. With my photos, I hardly meet anyone without them going, 'oh you're that photographer' or 'I've seen your photos!' It's crazy really."

This story is from Vol.03 of Bush Journal.

Follow Ellie's work and buy prints on her website.

A gum-lined avenue near Perenjori, WA. Image: Ellie Morris