‘Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a Sea-change
Into something rich, & strange.’

– From ‘The Tempest’ by Sir Henry Neville

As any social observer will tell you, those who undertake a sea-change relocate  from the city or suburbs to take up residence on the coast.

The term was taken from the Australian hit television series of the same name, filmed around the small town of Barwon Heads. The quirky community spirit portrayed in the series resonated with thousands, rapidly encouraging migration to coastal regions and pushing up property prices.

I’ve heard it said that a canny real estate agent coined the term ‘tree-change’ for those who aspire to a less expensive, inland lifestyle.

For many years we lived in Mosman in Sydney at a ridiculously low rent. When the property was sold and we had to move out, we jumped at the chance to rent a small house at a spot near Daylesford in the beautiful Central Highlands of Victoria.

Living in the country, we reasoned, had to be less expensive than living in the city.

One of the attractions of this area was that it had four distinct seasons: hot dry Summers, cold wet Winters, golden Autumns and blossom-laden Springs. Little did we realise, though, that all four seasons can often occur in the same day.

The weather here tends to be so changeable that whenever I grumble about it my partner usually replies: “Just wait 10 minutes.”

Eighteen months before we left the city, some Sydney friends moved here to establish a winery. A year or so after we left, another couple hit the Hume and now live in Hepburn Springs. Having friends move here helped us to adjust and also enlarged our social circle; new friendships forged by each of us have put us in touch with some wonderfully kind and generous people.

Most of our family have made the journey south to check out how we’re faring in the sticks, some travelling from as far as England. They’re pleasantly surprised at our life down here (but probably talk later about how we’ve let ourselves go because, clearly, we have).

Outside the home office I share with my partner, tiny birds flit through the branches of a Silver Birch and golden swathes of wattle flowers enliven the bush in the valley below. Peaceful though it is, life here isn’t totally care-free.

Having experienced drought since we moved south, one of our major concerns is how further climate change will affect the area’s biodiversity, its farmers and life on the planet generally. Whenever La Nina morphs into El Nino, the prospects of severe drought and bushfire loom large in the easily-spooked minds of city blow-ins like us, surrounded as we are by the Wombat Forest.

Other than using as little of our own precious rainwater as possible, and staying alert on days when there’s a high fire danger, in the short term there’s little we can do to change the weather’s impact on our lives. After experiencing lengthy dry spells for the last few years, we’re more than a little apprehensive about the future.

If you’re thinking of moving to the country, I hope that the information you find here will give you some idea about life in rural Victoria.

If you too have made the move, or if you’ve been living on the land for decades or even for generations, chances are you’ll identify with some of our pleasures and challenges. I hope you’ll share your thoughts with me on those.

We’ve lived in country Victoria for seven years now. While life has mostly been quiet, some of that time has been very ‘rich & strange’ indeed.