Country social

City or country? Which one do you count yourself amongst?
I like to think I’m half-half, but I had a sharp reality check tonight in Mudgee when I ran into two people I’d seen around town.

The first, who I hadn’t seen since I was last here a month ago, invited me to have a drink with her and her partner and regaled me with tales of cellar door work, their relationship, ideas for how to create things from pallets, and travels through Mongolia (which all sounded very strange and challenging, but what awesome experiences). They were a great couple and so so friendly.

The second local said he saw me while we were both out for a morning walk around town on Monday and remembered I’d given him a smile. I remembered him too but I wouldn’t have recognised him. He plays for the local football club, and he now wanted to shake my hand and be facebook friends. What a lovely dude.

This is what I missed in Clermont, Queensland. I never became anything to the community, or even the neighbours. I was in my own world. Yes, I was in the country, boots covered in mud, riding bikes and wrangling cattle, but was I really a part of the country?

The Mudgee community is so open and warm and welcoming, it makes me think no.
As I tried to put my feet into my cracked, mouldy old boots from Queensland this week (pretty sure there’s a spider nest in the left one, so I immediately took them off), I felt like I’d left a chapter behind. Maybe I did.
Maybe, I never properly opened it at all.

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