Eucalyptus forest in the morning light
The first ray of light at dawn always falls on the treetops of the eucalyptus forest behind the house. The mist has not completely dissipated. It is like a soft gauze surrounding the tree trunks. The unique refreshing aroma of eucalyptus leaves is diffused in the air. Taking a deep breath, the whole person becomes transparent. The forest is extremely quiet, and occasionally you can hear the "clucking" call of the kookaburra, which is like laughter coming from a dream, clear and distant. The soil under your feet is soft, covered with a layer of dry fallen leaves, which rustle when you step on them. That sound hides the simplest secret of this land. The secret is that you have to do everything by yourself here. The work starts from trimming the lavender that grows wildly in front of the door, and ends with repairing a corner of the fence that was torn off by the wind and rain last night. The sense of solidity brought by this handwork is more real than any wealth.
The human touch of the afternoon market
The town's market is only open on Saturday mornings. When driving there, there are large tracts of pasture along the way. The grass is rolled into huge cylinders and scattered on the gentle slope, like a letter written by the earth to the sky. There are not many people in the market. The old vegetable seller will neatly arrange the tomatoes according to their sizes, put a tin can next to it, and let him take the change. At the stall next door, the freshly baked sourdough bread exudes the aroma of wheat. Cut off a corner and smear it with a thick layer of local nut butter. When you bite it, your mouth will be filled with the taste of sunshine and land. If you stay here for a long time, you will understand that the story of getting rich overnight is a distant legend after all. Time is like a quiet river that flows forward slowly and quietly. As long as you are willing to explore and taste it with your heart, a stable and peaceful life, an old car that can carry the whole family to a place to watch the sea, and a house with a courtyard are all dreams that can be touched with your hands.
Slow time under the grape trellis
In the afternoon, it is best to stay in the yard, under the grape trellis. The sunlight is filtered through the dense leaves and becomes mottled light and shadow, falling on the wooden table. When my neighbor, Old Tom, passed by, he would always stop and chat for a few words. Sometimes he would complain about the lack of rain this year, and sometimes he would teach me how to prune roses to make them more luxuriant. His accent was very thick, so I had to listen carefully, and occasionally I would get the wrong meaning, and then the two of them would laugh together. Things like cultural differences are, at first, like a transparent wall. You can see the other side, but you can't walk through it. However, over time, those unfamiliar words will gradually melt into daily greetings and become part of communication. You will find that no matter where it comes from, there is a yearning for a better life, a care for your family, and a reverence for nature. These are all connected. This atmosphere of equality and mutual respect for everyone quietly penetrated into the bones in this smooth and soothing communication.
Kangaroos and their returnees under the sunset
Before night falls, that time is the most tender time of the day. Driving home, I would always see a group of kangaroos, some big and some small, grazing quietly with their heads lowered on the grass that they would pass by. The afterglow of the sunset adds a golden edge to their appearance. Occasionally, one will raise its head, prick up its ears, and watch the vehicles drive by. There is no fear in its eyes, but a sense of calmness about enjoying this world with humans. From being unfamiliar with each other at the beginning to looking at each other silently at this moment, this may be an adaptation. Not only did I master the language here, but I also understood the language of this landscape. Returning to the fence in front of my house, looking at the mountains in the distance gradually blending into the night, I felt more peaceful than ever before. I have already made plans for the weekend. I want to bring the grill and the children, and go to the lake to find a big tree. Watch them chase and laugh, and watch the lake reflect the sunset. What a happy picture it will be.
Nostalgia and Homecoming under the Galaxy
When night fell, the surroundings were completely silent, so he turned off all the lights, walked towards the yard, and then raised his head. The night sky here is so low that you can reach out and touch it. The Milky Way stretches across the sky, and its brightness reaches a level that seems a bit unreal. The air has a slightly cool feeling, carrying the smell of earth and grass, keeping it far away from the hustle and bustle. In this place where you need to do it yourself and where it is impossible to become rich overnight, life has shed all its impetuous superficial phenomena, revealing its original true texture. From being unaccustomed to it at the beginning, I have gradually become able to distinguish the meanings of the different calls of the kookaburras. I can call out the names of several stallholders in the market. I can find a sense of belonging that I have not experienced in a long time under the eucalyptus forest, grape trellis and endless starry sky. Only then did we realize that what is called the "real living conditions of immigrants in Australia" is not a simple symbol. It exists in the hand-made fence posts, in the sunset shared with the kangaroos, and in the stars that light up the night sky. It is quietly waiting for everyone who is willing to live a down-to-earth life to interpret it into a pastoral song of their own.
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