A year of practiculture: Author Rohan Anderson's insights into spring lamb

By Rohan Anderson
Updated April 23 2018 - 11:07pm, first published September 12 2015 - 3:55pm

The mornings have been rather crisp, the air is fresh and pure. Through the windows to the east, bright rays of sun sneak in a little earlier each day, waking me, taunting me to get up and do something useful. I wish I could lie in bed, listening to the warbling of magpies, the chirping of fairy wrens, but there's always something that nags at me to be done. Something to be planted, repaired, chopped, stacked, shot, built, dispatched, preserved, harvested or cooked. You couldn't ask for a fuller and busier life. There's little room for idle time now – that will have to wait until the following winter. And I like it that way. There's something new for me to discover with each passing day, and every season the same chores come and go to be replaced by some other task that demands attention. There's no doubt in my mind that my life is now dictated by the seasons.

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