I amble across the river’s edge, the wavelets are my first classrooms, ‘Hold on a tick,’ Pop tells me, ‘Listen to the water before you cast your line.’ So, I listen. The ripples flow, it winds , it bends, each movement curves a lesson that never ends.

I glance up, the gum trees stand tall, their roots hold timeless stories. They demonstrate how strength, is not only valued in height, but in how deep you are rooted.

The yams slumber under the soil, patiently waiting until their time, reminding me, that some knowledge develops slowly, and the valuable lessons, mustn’t be rushed.

Kangaroo tracks etch the dusty, red land, it only directs forward, highlighting that every step, leaves a mark, a story behind.

At night, the stars dance, they resemble the previous mentors, composing calendars in the sky, directing when to fish, when to gather, when to rest.

By the fire, folks gather, close folks, or unfamiliar folks, but food is passed palm to palm. story to mouth to ear, memories flooding our minds, teaching us that only the best memories, are the ones that bind.

Country feeds us more than hunger. It feeds collaboration and connection. It teaches us to observe and listen, to share, to care, and to remember.