I made an impractical decision as a farmer’s wife. But I am too far in to let him know that he was right and I was wrong.
I bought a gorgeous outdoor furniture set for our verandah, with cream white cushions.
“How do you think that will stay clean?” he asked, eyeing it off as it arrived.
And so it began.
My ongoing mission to prove him wrong.
The work dogs would take full advantage of not being tied up at night, and I’d find them curled up there in the morning, their black bodies a stark contrast against the cream cushions.
But there was one kelpie I felt had earned the right to a little luxury.
Pete. He was retired, and my favourite.
He could shoot around a mob of sheep at record speed, then stand quietly while my baby sprawled all over him, using his back as a cushion.
He’d mustered goats in Queensland. Burnt his paws on hot ground moving thirsty stock closer to water. Found lambs alone
and hungry beside a creek bed. Taught pup after pup how to work. Then shared his kennel with them at night to keep them warm.
And so, I let him have his warm patch of sun on my outdoor lounge.
To sleepily gaze over hills he knew well.
The white dots of sheep he’d moved up the laneway.
The glimmer of dams he’d swum in at the end of a hot day.
At sunset, I’d often walk past the window and see a tired farmer and his trusty dog sitting together, on the outdoor lounge.
A hand gently stroking a soft ear. An easy silence.
A decade of shared moments between them.
A fading pink sky stretched above them.
Deep green hills before them.
And cushions, that used to be cream white, beneath them.
And I think there’s something in that for us too.
We are very good at admiring hard work.
Especially in the country.
We respect grit.
We notice endurance.
We get on with it.
But sometimes we forget that rest matters too.
Not because all the work is done.
But because bodies need it. Minds need it.
Hearts need it.
Sometimes health looks like movement.
Sometimes it looks like strength.
And sometimes it looks like sitting on the verandah at sunset, beside someone who knows the road you’ve walked.
And so I am learning that;Maybe wellbeing isn’t always found in doing more.
Maybe sometimes it’s found in the pause.
Let’s make room for that kind of health too.
The kind that knows real rest is not laziness,It’s part of being well.
I hope you find a moment this weekend to sit, and just be.
By Rachel Kerin