Bush Regeneration - Letting the Land Breathe Again
Years ago, I was sitting out in the middle of the farm - right down in the paddocks, surrounded by gum trees and the crackle of dry leaves underfoot - dreaming up all the ways we could make this place the most magical little pocket of earth. Back then, there was this stubborn island of bush right in the middle of our grasslands.
Not a pretty patch.
Not a usable patch.
Just an overgrown tangle of holly, ivy and blackberries fighting each other for supremacy - and slowly choking the native plants beneath them. Even the local wildlife avoided it. We certainly did. It was the definition of “too hard basket.”
At the same time, I was planning new fencing and shaping the flow of our paddocks. The triangle paddock kept drawing my attention. It was steep, awkward, constantly being stomped into a soggy mess by animals breaking through into the shallow water table beneath. Every year it was worse. Every year it felt like a battle we were losing.
Sitting there that day, watching young gum saplings spring up on both sides, it hit me.
The bush wasn’t the problem.
It was the solution.
What If… We Gave It Back?
The land was telling me exactly what it wanted to do. It was reclaiming that paddock.
Slowly, steadily, persistently.
And instead of fighting the wild to force something mediocre out of the land, I realised something ridiculously simple. What if we stopped resisting it? What if we returned the paddock to the bush?
What if we helped it?
The aerial view would look like a yin-yang symbol - open paddocks balancing pockets of bushland. A genuine harmony between farm and forest. It felt right in my bones. The idea was so clear I could practically see it already grown in.
So I contacted the council, half-expecting paperwork and red tape.
Instead, they gave me $5,000 toward fencing through the Ribbons of Green program - to protect the regrowth from animals while it recovered. That alone felt like a miracle.
Then they arranged 1,800 indigenous seedlings, not just generic Aussie natives but species that naturally belonged to this exact patch of land. And as if that wasn’t enough, they also sent 20 volunteers over two full days through Landcare and The Tree Project to help plant every single one.
In that moment, the wild little island of tangled blackberry suddenly had a future.
Designing the Future Forest
Before the planting, I carved a pathway through the future bush - a gentle, flowing trail connecting one section to the other. Two wider circular clearings were placed along the way.
Not just for aesthetics.
Not just for access.
But because one day, when the seedlings become trees and the trees become forest, those spaces will become sanctuaries.
A picnic area.
A meditation clearing.
Or more likely now - the future home of a glasshouse or gazebo for our breathwork retreats.
A place protected from rain and wind, cozy and warm, tucked right into the heart of the forest. Somewhere people can breathe deeply, reconnect with nature, and feel held by something larger than themselves. Maybe even by the forest spirits that have been here far longer than we have.
The Bush Loop Track
Most recently, we had a contractor come in and clear a trail from the creek trail all the way through the old island of bush. Now we have a full loop - around 1.2km long - entirely on our own property.
Considering Nurture Creek is just 20 acres, that’s huge.
A proper walking track.
A quiet, shaded escape.
A moment to breathe.
Families staying at our farm stay, guests attending retreats, people wanting to reconnect with nature - they can now wander the bush safely, without leaving the property, fully immersed in the place as it slowly returns to what it once was.
Regeneration Isn’t Fast.
But It’s Everything.
Bush regeneration is slow magic.
It’s not flashy.
It’s not quick.
It’s not something you build and finish.
It’s something you tend.
Something you listen to.
Something you participate in.
Need a Break?
