I grew up through drought.

Not a single season, but years of it.

Paddocks thinned, water allocations tightened and livestock lost condition. At the kitchen table, conversations shifted. It was not just numbers, it was decisions. What to cut back. What to hold onto. How long things could stretch with nothing coming in. Other ways to bring money in. What could be sold and what had to be kept. Every choice carrying weight.

Drought moves slowly. It settles in and stays.

It works its way through the land, and through families the same way.

I saw farms held across generations reach breaking points. Properties sold under pressure. Independent operations absorbed into something larger. History shifting hands. Pride kept things quiet, even when everything felt stretched.

The land changed. It hardened. So did we.

Those cracks stayed with me.

Witness comes from that.

The surface fractures outward from a central tension point, each line carrying time, not a moment, but a build-up. Pressure held, stretched and made visible.

Within Harvest, water sets the conditions for growth and climate shapes what is possible. As rainfall pulls back, everything adjusts. The system shifts, and people move with it.

Drought shaped how I work. It taught me to adapt, to diversify and to not rely on a single outcome. To keep moving, even when conditions tighten.

Steel holds that tension. It carries fracture without giving way.

Witness holds both.

The weight of loss and the strength built through it.

Loss sits within the cycle.