Having lived my life on the banks of the Weir River, its a river I know well, I learnt to swim in it when frustrated that as the local swimming teacher having a kid that wouldn't swim was embarrassing, so when I was 4 or 5 mum rowed our tinny out and threw me in. I didn't die, in fact I learn't very quickly that to keep my head up and out of the muddy waters I had to stop whingin and get paddlin. 

I over came a lot of my fears down at 'the river', like height by jumping from 'the rock' higher and higher each year till finally I jumped the 8 metres when I was 17, i learnt that no one is going to come save me, when my sisters left me on the far side and went on home. I learnt how to get away from snakes without having to kill them, to survive in fast flowing water when I had to rescue the footvalve for the Homestead's water supply and re wire it every time there was a big flow. I did much of my early exploration down along the river with  my dogs, spending days having adventures finding ancient aboriginal and early white mans marks that they had left on our land as though they were conversations across time teaching me how to survive in this bush. There was the century old orchards, millenia old rock fish traps, limestone caves and middens and stock camp dumps all telling their own tales of those who loved this land well before my mob turned up.

It was also a place I did a lot of stupid things, I built underground cubbies on the bank, tree houses up in the river gums that had rotten rope bridges that collapsed when I was trying put a verandah up there, I built bridges across the isthmus, I even played earthmover with the floods and changed the course of the river forever removing one of its main islands. The craziest thing I did along with my sisters and their mates was jump on a single styro board and ride the floodwaters a few hours down stream....crazy because we had to get our way back bare foot through hundreds of acres of sand burr and double gee's with our poor Mum not having a clue what had become of us.

The River has been a key to a lot of my fantasizing as I grew up, how I could tame it and channel its waters to grow crops and drought proof our property with acres of lucerne, olives, nuts and dates, It also been a barrier that keeps all thats wild on the other side and all thats ours on the inside of its sweeping twists and turns, and it was our duty to stop any bush fires from crossing it and then going unchecked through the hundreds of thousands of pine bushland that lay to the east.

Right now that river that cradled people for tens of thousands of years has shown how powerful the human spirit of my region is. This morning as the River reached 14meters and flooded through our friends home up in the headwaters, farmers from across the district descended onto those few homesteads on its banks. Selflessly the men and women of Moonie ensured every vehicle and tractor was on high ground, all the furniture was stacked high and all the precious photos and tangible memories were safe on the ridge. When you hear the thanks, strength and appreciation sing through in your mothers voice it takes away the anxiety and helplessness I feel 400kms away all broken and busted and useless, like me you would feel the same appreciation that people would volunteer without call to get there and help your family.

Its been  over 50 years since our river got so excited by this incredible amount of rain, back then she cleaned away many buildings but what she reminds us is the power of our fellow man to be there and let us all know that we are never ever alone. In few days the water will be gone and on its way to other communities to galvanise their people and fill their lakes, wetlands and dams and eventually swell out to the mighty Murray Mouth taking with it the pain and hurt of all these years of drought.

The amount of rain that has fallen these few months has totally destroyed our main incomes by flooding the cereal crops that laid in wait to be harvested and the past few days saw falls that overwhelmed many houses too soon to be warned of the impending waters, I feel terrible for these people who have lost so much from years of drought and now metres of what they prayed for all this time. We do live in a land that is not under the command of man and it never will be, we know this and we continued anyway and we will go on keep etching an existence in amongst these extreme on the back of the idea that next year will be better and go 'our way'.

Thank You to all those across our country of droughts and flooding rains who without thought of themselves, get out and help people like my folks to keep these homesteads on their stilts and their patch in the the fabric that is the community spirit of our heartland tight and bound together by an unspoken bond.