The drought, the fires and the floods have nearly broken us, but the government keeps playing games on climate action
My husband has left the farm we have worked so hard on since 2007. He says, “I can’t do it any more.” He needs time to rest and heal. I don’t know what that means for my marriage or if I can run this farm alone. Will he want to sell the only stable home I have ever known – my heart’s rest, my lifelong dream and the oasis I bought as a single 40-year-old?
My husband has worked away most weeks, roaming across New South Wales for our solar business, so we have been cramming seven days of farm work into two at the weekends. We are just one of thousands of small-scale farmers growing beef for the domestic market, artisanal alpaca yarn for crafters, honey for local shops and small goods made from our garlic, honey and chillies. Our main farm income is from the farm stay – reconnecting city folk with country, river, platypus and free-range happy herds.
