For 11 seconds, imagine standing between fire and everything your family has built.

You’re in the middle of harvest. The header is running. The grain is finally coming off after months of prayer for rain, sunshine and just enough yield to make the year worthwhile. Then the pager goes off.

As a volunteer with the Country Fire Authority, there is no hesitation. Tools down. Machinery parked. Yellow overalls on. Because out here, we look after each other.

On one side of the road — burning mallee scrub.
On the other — your crop, your livelihood, your family’s legacy.

This is the reality for farmers across regional Australia. Rising before the sun. Sleeping lightly through lambing season. Bearing the weight of input costs they cannot control. Being blamed for grocery prices they do not set. Fighting fires one day and government policy the next.

And yet — they stay.

They stay for the community.
For the golden summer fields after spring rain.
For school holidays spent in shearing sheds.
For sunsets that stretch for hours across wide open paddocks.

Because out here, resilience isn’t a buzzword — it’s a way of life.

In this deeply personal reflection, Emily Amelia captures the tension, pride and fierce love that define rural Australia — and asks an important question:

If 11 seconds can feel like a lifetime, could it also be long enough for decision-makers to pause and truly consider the future of our farmers?

If These Walls Could Talk — A Tribute to the Heart of the Shearing Shed

There are places in the world that hold more than memories — they hold the hum of a lived life, stitched into timber, dust, and the laughter that never quite leaves. For me, a shearing shed is one of those places. It’s where stories settle into the rafters, where childhood lessons are learned between the fleeces, and where generations return to remember who they are.

In this poem, If These Walls Could Talk, I share a glimpse into the shearing-shed world I grew up around — a world of hardworking hands, warm cups of tea, and the unmistakable symphony of a shearing day. These walls have seen everything: kids tumbling into wool presses, shearers napping in unbaled fleeces, the sharp scent of fresh scones mingling with lanolin, and the camaraderie that grows from long days on the board.

This piece is a love letter to farming life — to the mateship, the mischief, and the moments that stay with you long after the shed falls quiet. It’s a celebration of rural Australia, of family, of the stories we pass down, and the ones the walls keep safe for us.

Step inside, breathe in the memory-dusted air, and listen closely.

If these walls could talk… this is what they’d say.