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Bonzer Words!: Granda's Place

...The shed has dark corners hiding many treasures: harness, polishes, axle grease, rusty tools, bags of grain, kerosene. A sharpening stone waits at the door, ready to rasp out its ancient rhythms before a sheep is led to slaughter...

Jeanne K Meade brings us a vivid account of a visit during her childhood to granda's place.

Jeanne writes for Bonzer! Please visit www.bonzer.org.au/

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1939

I jump down from the buggy and run toward the pine plantation where the dogs are chained. The new Dodge is still gathering dust in the shed beside the favoured old Fiat.

The shed has dark corners hiding many treasures: harness, polishes, axle grease, rusty tools, bags of grain, kerosene. A sharpening stone waits at the door, ready to rasp out its ancient rhythms before a sheep is led to slaughter.

Familiar smells gust away as I run past on my way down the track leading to the old orchard. Further on Great Gandma's cottage is silent now, except for some dry leaves whispering at her faded front door.

I turn from the beehives at the head of the pines and pull up at the top dog. The collies are barking, jumping and yelping with excitement. Freedom, freedom at last they breathe in, gulp down the free air.

We run, swerve; tumble together in wild madcap, celebration. Everything is allowed while we play at chasing each other and I roll over and over in the long green grass on the slope of the hill.


Jeanne K Meade

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