Image: Footy and Foodie.
Dad sat glumly at breakfast. It was going to be another stinker of a day. Hot days were hard work on the farm. A year ago, on a day not unlike the one looming there had been a bushfire that wiped out a lot of the stock and ruined kilometres of fence line.
It had taken dad much of the year to rebuild the fences and re-stock the paddocks.
We did all we could to help, but we were kids and dad took much of the burden of work on his own shoulders.
Sunday’s, he slept in. He figured if he needed anything on Sundays it was pointless as the shops were closed, so he stayed in bed, ate a late breakfast and spent time with us kids. We liked Sundays.
Today he looked towards the east and wondered if we’d get away with it. There was no smoke on the horizon.
“We might be lucky,” he announced grabbing his hat and heading out the door.