Family Farm Read Free Page B

all so much and was happy to find it just how it was before she left. All except the large eucalyptus tree that had fallen over in the rock paddock, which Dad said had happened last year after Cyclone Harry had come down the coast.
    When they finally returned to the sheds, Izzy quizzed her dad on his new purchases and checked them over, much to his irritation. She liked the new – well, actually, second-hand – seeder bar he’d got, and the new drill press for the workshop. By then it was almost lunchtime and Jean was calling them on the two-way, telling them to clean up and head to the house.
    After a cold meat and salad lunch, they all headed to Ray’s farm. Izzy grilled her dad for more details on the way. What other things was he interested in and how much was he willing to pay? She even offered her opinion but knew damn well he wouldn’t listen to it.
    ‘I think you’ll be lucky to get that truck, Dad. It’s gonna go way above your price,’ she said, having a go anyway. ‘With harvest around the corner it will sell as fast as a carton of cold beer. My bet is it will go for around twenty-five thousand.’
    Her dad just ‘hmphed’ at her.
    Crossing her arms, she shook her head. She should have bet a six-pack on it, because she knew the old man was dreaming. Trucks were always in high demand at harvest, especially during a good year.
    Her mum was helping the CWA ladies with afternoon tea and drinks, so she was dolled up nicely today. She had on a pair of white shorts, a soft blue shirt and minimal make-up, but that was all she needed. Izzy couldn’t believe how graceful her mum could look. Why hadn’t she inherited any of that, she wondered. Izzy wouldn’t dare wear white. It would never stay clean on her. She was still wearing her work clothes from the morning. She stretched her legs as much as she could. Three adults in a ute was just a bit too cosy. Thankfully, it wasn’t going to be a long trip. Lifting up her cap, she scratched her head where the sweat was itching her skin. Clearing-sale days always seemed to be hot.
    Soon they were pulling into an open paddock where they found a bare patch of earth and parked among the sea of mostly white utes and dual cabs. Already there was a large gathering of blokes in hats and boots. Dust rose in the air, like when sheep were on the move in the paddocks, but this time it came from the prospective buyers walking up and down the rows of items for sale. In and out of the large machinery they wandered. Even if you weren’t there to buy, you still had a look.
    Two large red headers sat neatly in a row next to a yellow truck, two green tractors and seeding bars to suit, plus a couple of ploughs and two motorbikes. Ray’s work ute, a firefighting unit, and a couple of bits and pieces filled another few rows, and an area in his large shed contained sundry items. That was where the farmers’ wives congregated. Izzy tagged along with her dad, looking at various items and stopping to chat to the locals. Everyone was coming up to them wondering who was with Bill and they were surprised to see it was Izzy. The subsequent conversation therefore always lasted that bit longer and they all asked the same questions. Have you been home long? Are you staying for good? How was it in New South Wales? What’s the farming situation like over there?
    A good hour and a half had passed by the time Izzy glanced over to the shed, where the ladies had set up their tables with an assortment of goodies and an old bathtub filled with ice for the cans of soft drink and beer. Her mum was busily getting the urn organised for those who wanted tea or coffee.
    A minute later the auctioneer started up and his voice boomed out erratically as the bids began. He started with the small items first, which took nearly an hour to get through, before starting on the larger items. The truck her dad was interested in was coming up shortly. Izzy stood back from the crowd of men circling around the auctioneer.