Bilbarin is a tiny wheatbelt siding town, where my mother spent her early years. All that remains is the town hall, but I am continually drawn to Bilbarin and the life and history of my mother and my grandmother.
Perhaps today I am being drawn more to Bilbarin because my father will be there today when he visits the last resting place of my mother. Or perhaps it is because it is nearly Christmas and this will be our second Christmas without my mother at our table.
Bilbarin Morning
A wild wind whips across the yard scattering
leaves in devilish dance, battering a loose piece of tin on the roof and whistling through a crack
in the sapling walls of the hut.
Tendrils
of golden morning light seep thinly through the trailing branches of the
peppermint trees. It bursts through the
door as we tumble out onto the verandah in a blur of coats and scarves. Icy
water baubles clinging in wait for us on the eaves release themselves as we
bound down the steps. The ground crunches nosily under our boots like a
military tattoo. The gate clatters
behind us.
Daisy stamps impatiently in her stall. Her hot
breath swirls around her like a smoky wreath. She thrusts her head into the stream
of grain spilling into the feed bin.
Dry wheat stalks whip against our legs as we
run across the stubble paddock. Through
the stringy gimlet trees, jumping the gurgling water in the gully, pushing our
way through the scrub. A kangaroo bounds
away into the mist.
Red gum flowers are bursting from their cups and we stop to pick a spray for Miss.
Red gum flowers are bursting from their cups and we stop to pick a spray for Miss.
The clanging bell calls out to us across the
dusty school yard. The welcoming warmth of the fire in the stove as we slide
into our desks and pull out our books.
Miss smiles at us, absorbing the perfume of
the bush as she arranges the flowers in a jar on the window sill.
and a couple of images from Bilbarin. A beautiful old gum tree near where my mother once lived, and the old railway siding.
You might enjoy this post from last year when I took you there for a visit - From beach to wheatbelt
Thanks for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed this little story. I look forward to hearing from you. Have a wonderful week.
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