Once a year we make the road trip to the broad horizons of the mid-west to visit our farming mates, stumble on double-gees, shelter from the easterly wind, and roughen up the kids. After a sunset over the stubble, the boys escaped westward for a surf, while I helped the kids feed the chooks, packed the esky and followed the dust to the beach house in Dongara.
The boys played some mean beach footy, surfed and did general boys stuff, while the girls raided grandma's dress up basket and paraded styles that had their fathers squirming with visions of their teenage daughters showing their underwear through lace.
A take-away coffee from The Little Starfish at South Beach got Tom fired up to practice his technique in time for next summer's sandcastle competition; with help from his namesake, Little Tom, Sonny and Dylan. We left the crew with promise of opening rains and the imminent seeding program. Long may your wheat grow.