How sweet it is.
Through five generations and beyond, some scandal, the occasional battle.
Marriages, children — hordes of bloody children.
Religion and faith, one sometimes existing without the other, love and laughter linking us in the battling bush towns and the uppity cities.
There’s Paddy, all 300 pounds of him with hands like shovels, planting his size 14s in the dirt track from Hillston to Cobar. He fancied a walk and wandered into the rest of his life.