In the years leading up to the 2019/20 Black Summer bushfires, we struggled on the farm on a daily basis with drought. I saw stands of mature eucalypts die, once lush grassed paddocks become barren and dusty, and dams evaporate to their lowest levels. We hand fed animals, especially during breeding season, often twice a day. It was hard. Three large works emerged during this time, that I called ‘Poems of Rust and Water’, though to be honest it was the lack of water, the dream of water that pervaded during those long months.