A Country Holding Its Breath Before Christmas
By mid-December, Australia sounds slightly different. The year is almost spent. People are tired, reflective, sometimes brittle, sometimes generous. Roads are busier. Conversations wander. And when the phone lines open on a Sunday morning, what comes through isn’t news so much as a collective exhale — stories of work done, journeys underway, and lives paused briefly before Christmas arrives.
Downham Farm and a Landscape That Carries Memory
Kevin rang from the Darling River, travelling between Wentworth and Thurungully, heading toward Downham Farm — land he and his partner bought at the end of the millennium drought. At the time, it was bare earth and dust. Then came rain for a year. Then a flood on a scale not seen since 1956. More recently, a cyclone tore the roof from the homestead he had carefully restored.
Still, Kevin spoke with wonder rather than defeat. The property carries Aboriginal markings, old Cobb & Co crossing points, and places where paddle steamers once tied up along the river. It is land layered with history. Even after fire, flood and wind, he said, it still feels singular. Worth the effort. Worth beginning again.
Kangaroos on the Road and Signs of a Big Season
As Kevin drove the back roads near Bourke and followed long stretches of the Darling, he began to notice how crowded the country felt. Kangaroos everywhere — standing in mobs at dawn, lifting their heads from the scrub as vehicles passed, scattered thickly along the road verges. Foxes darted across the headlights. Feral pigs left their marks in damp ground. Feral cats too, harder to spot, but unmistakable once you’ve learned to see them.
Among them were albino kangaroos — rare enough to make you slow down and look twice. Kevin mentioned the old bush belief that seeing them means a big season is coming, that numbers are building and the land is preparing to surge again. Whether that’s superstition or simply the long memory of people who watch country closely is hard to say.
What was clear was the pattern itself. After drought, flood and rain, life pushes back quickly. Animals respond before people do. They move, breed, spread out. Roads fill up. Collisions increase. The signs arrive quietly at first, noticed only by those who travel the long way through.
It was a reminder that while calendars and forecasts help, the land still speaks for itself — and often well before anyone is ready to listen.
A Twelve-Year-Old on the Way to Cricket
Digby rang next, his voice bright with a mix of nerves and familiarity. He was 12, travelling with his dad from Moree to Gunnedah for a representative cricket match — another early start, another long stretch of road, another oval somewhere beyond the horizon.
He’s a batter, he said, but likes fielding too. He’s already spent years doing this: weekend after weekend in the car, moving between country towns, learning how to wait, how to focus, how to be ready when his moment comes. It’s the quiet apprenticeship of regional sport — kilometres measured as carefully as runs scored.
There was no sense of complaint in his voice. Just acceptance. This is how it works when you love something and live a long way from the centre of things. You travel. You commit. You grow up a little quicker.
Christmas, he said, would be spent at home. After all that driving, it would be nice to stay still for a while.
A Piano, a Mountain, and Carrying Music into the World
Colin rang to update listeners on his nephew, Kelvin Smith — known to many as A Piano of Tasmania. Years ago, Kelvin pushed an upright piano to the summit of kunanyi/Mount Wellington using a specially engineered frame approved by authorities.
Now he is taking a baby grand piano around Australia on a trailer behind his Toyota, stopping at beaches, lookouts, paddocks and ports to play. No ticket sales. No promotion. Just music offered wherever he happens to arrive.
Kelvin later rang in himself, boarding the Spirit of Tasmania and preparing for months on the road. He plays contemporary classical music. He films little. He posts sparingly. He does it, he said simply, because it brings joy.
Work, Strength and the Long View of Ageing
As the program turned inward, Macca reflected with guest Kieran Kelly on ageing, fatigue and the effort required to keep moving well. Kieran spoke about strength training, boxing and Pilates in his seventies — not for appearance, but for function. For independence.
The conversation drifted toward genetics, discipline and the fine line between staying active and knowing when to rest. No prescriptions were offered. Just the shared understanding that ageing looks different for everyone, but stopping altogether rarely helps.
Roads Around Mornington Island
Benny rang from Mornington Island in the Gulf of Carpentaria, where he runs a road crew building proper access around the island for the first time. What were once rough tracks are now forming into gravel roads. Fifteen workers. Many of them young locals.
He spoke about the pride that comes from operating machinery, watching progress take shape, and giving people rhythm and purpose. He flies in and out from the Atherton Tablelands every six to eight weeks. Twins are due next year. Christmas, he said, would be spent at home.
Music Made by Hands, Not Algorithms
Later, a miner named Zac shared music he’d made with friends in Gympie — rough-edged outlaw country, recorded without polish. Songs about work, mateship and life as it is.
The call opened a broader reflection on artificial intelligence and creativity. AI can now generate songs in minutes, mimic voices and styles, even approximate emotion. But what it cannot replicate, callers agreed, is presence — the feeling of someone standing in front of you, imperfect and real.
Gardening in Northland and Finding Calm
Therese rang while tending a vegetable garden in Northland, New Zealand. Cucumbers climbing overnight. Basil thickening by the day. She spoke about the calm that comes from soil and repetition.
She lives in Dungog and runs a café. This Christmas she would be helping her mother-in-law on the farm. The call was unremarkable — and precisely because of that, grounding.
Becoming Australian, One Small Moment at a Time
Several callers reflected on migration and belonging. KJ, who arrived from India decades ago, spoke about becoming Australian not through paperwork, but through small shared experiences — cricket heartbreaks, heatwaves, laughter at the absurd.
Hans, from Germany, described daily walks near Endeavour Hills, photographing kangaroos and echidnas from a respectful distance. “This is their home,” he said. “I’m only the visitor.”
Both spoke with gratitude rather than entitlement. Australia, to them, is something you grow into.
A Burnt Christmas Tree and a Town That Responded
From Kempsey came a small story with a big heart. Sometime in mid-December, the town’s Christmas tree was set alight. By morning, all that remained was a blackened metal frame — a moment that could easily have soured the season.
Instead, locals turned up. Decorations appeared. Handmade ornaments, lights, ribbons, bits of tinsel pulled from sheds and shopfronts. What had been damaged was rebuilt — not perfectly, but together.
By the end of the day, the tree stood again, changed but unmistakably festive. What could have been vandalism became a shared response, a quiet refusal to let one act define the town or the season.
Holding It All Lightly
As the final program of the year wound down, the threads of the morning drew together. Work and travel. Music and memory. Loss, effort and kindness. Calls from paddocks, kitchens, highways and boats, all carrying the same undercurrent.
After a year of conversations, the lesson felt familiar but no less true: meaning doesn’t arrive fully formed. It’s assembled slowly, almost without notice, by ordinary people doing what needs doing and caring where they can.
Making the Year Hold Together
By the time the phones fell quiet, Australia sounded tired but steady. Not perfect. Not united on everything. But still talking. Still listening. Still showing up for one another in small, unremarkable ways.
That, more than anything, is what carried the year to its end — not headlines or noise, not outrage or spectacle, but voices from farms, cricket cars, road crews, kitchens and quiet roads, all helping life hold together just long enough to reach Christmas.
Listen to the podcast episode here.
Disclaimer: ‘Australia All Over’ is a program produced and broadcast by the ABC Local Radio Network and hosted by Ian McNamara. Brisbane Suburbs Online News has no affiliation with Ian McNamara, the ABC, or the ‘Australia All Over’ program. This weekly review is an independent summary based on publicly available episodes. All original content and recordings remain the property of the ABC. Our summaries are written in our own words and are intended for commentary and review purposes only. Readers can listen to the full episodes via the official ABC platforms.