#Strongwomen. "I write about the power of trying, because I want to be okay with failing. I write about generosity because I battle selfishness. I write about joy because I know sorrow. I write about faith because I almost lost mine, and I know what it is to be broken and in need of redemption. I write about gratitude because I am thankful – for all of it." Kristin Armstrong
Wouldn’t life be easier if we knew when to calm the room like David Attenborough, when to hold the line like Nelson Mandela, and when to roll up our sleeves and push like Bob Hawke?
Joseph Weston understood timing.
He was the editor of the Kiama Independent in the late nineteenth century, a farmer in an earlier life, and a fierce advocate for systems that moved farmers from price takers to price makers.
He had range.
Emotional range.
Strategic range.
Editorial range.
I’ve spent a long time watching how change actually happens. It often slips in while everyone is busy arguing about something else. Weston seemed to understand that instinctively.
Start with women.
As editor of the Kiama Independent, Weston strategically expands who appears in the public record. Women begin to show up with careers. Paid work outside the home becomes part of everyday reporting. Secretaries. Clerical and office roles. Assistants in business and administration.
His commentary ensures these roles sit comfortably on the page.
Education is assumed. Literacy is assumed. Organisational skill comes with the territory. Women appear as capable participants in the life of the town.
Alongside this, the paper notes the first woman to graduate university with an Arts degree. She takes her place among the day’s business and the paper moves on. Education, work, and opportunity sit naturally within community life.
This is Weston in Attenborough mode.
He trusts readers to notice. He lets repetition do the work. Over time, expectations widen because what people see keeps widening.
Then he switches gear.
When the dairy industry is at stake, Weston becomes very Hawke. Energy up. Purpose clear.
He writes under the pseudonym The Dairyman. Farmers start asking each other who The Dairyman might be. They argue about the ideas and speculate about the author at the same time. The conversation spreads. Momentum gains traction.
Cooperative dairying becomes something people are talking about in sheds, kitchens, and at the factory gate.
This is Weston mobilising attention.
Running through both approaches is a third instinct, the Mandela one. A sense of timing. Knowing when to slow things down and when to apply pressure. Knowing that influence works differently depending on the moment.
With women’s roles, Weston widens the frame until it feels familiar.
With cooperative dairying, he sharpens the focus until it demands action.
Same person. Different tools. Wisdom we all can aspire too.
Joseph Weston understood how communities change. He worked with that reality. Low-key when low-key works. Direct when direction builds momentum.
For me
Joseph Weston is a role model who shows us how to rearrange the furniture, and when to do it.
A note to readers: After hearing from descendants of Queen Rosie and King Mickey Johnson, I will be updating this post to include additional information and perspectives from family members. I appreciate the opportunity to make sure this history is told as accurately and respectfully as possible.
L to R Aunty Dr Joyce Donovan, Sue Eggins and Dr Tony Gilmour
The Kiama District Historical Society’s October event drew a full house, standing room only, as locals gathered to hear Aunty Dr Joyce Donovan and Dr Tony Gilmour explore the deep Aboriginal history of the local area.
The crowd loved the didjeridoo performance by Quinten Dingo-Donovan – a moving tribute that connected the past and present.
The audience, mostly baby boomers, was visibly engaged and moved by what they heard. Many said afterward that they had learned more about the South Coast’s Aboriginal history in one afternoon than in all their years of schooling.
Aunty Joyce, a Wodi Wodi Elder and local hero recognised for her work in Aboriginal health and education, and Dr Gilmour, historian and Vice President of the Kiama District Historical Society, presented a powerful overview of Wodi Wodi Country, focussing on Kiama, Jamberoo, Minnamurra, and Gerringong. They described how the area’s saltwater people lived along the coast and gathered at Kiama to trade salt, arrange marriages, and pass on law; how Jamberoo and Minnamurra were key meeting and birthing places; and how Aboriginal names like Kiama (“where the sea makes a noise”) and Minnamurra (“plenty of fish”) connect the landscape to its stories.
Aunty Dr Joyce Donovan is presented with a certificate by Kiama District Historical Society president Sue Eggins, marking her appointment as the Society’s first Aboriginal Elder Patron — a recognition of more than 15 years of collaboration and contribution to keeping Kiama’s shared history alive.
They also revisited the history of King Mickey Johnson and Queen Rosie, whose lives in the late 1800s and early 1900s show that Aboriginal people remained part of community life long after colonisation. Their stories now form part of a new, evolving display at the Pilot’s Cottage Museum, a living history project that welcomes new knowledge, corrections, and contributions.
“This is a living history,” said Aunty Joyce. “We’re still learning, still listening, and still adding to what we know. History belongs to everyone, and it grows stronger when we share it.”
Dr Gilmour agreed, describing the project as a way of completing the story of Kiama rather than rewriting it. “We’re not taking anyone’s history away,” he said. “We’re filling in the missing chapters. The story of this place didn’t start in 1797 when explorer George Bass landed in what is now Kiama harbour. And it hasn’t stopped. It’s a continuing story that connects us all.”
The energy in the room suggested more than nostalgia. It reflected a wider hunger for understanding and a recognition that history told only through rose coloured glasses leaves us poorer.
As one attendee remarked.
“It’s time for Aboriginal history and culture to become a genuine, continuous part of the curriculum, not an elective reserved for the senior years. In a global world, young people are hungry to understand where conflict comes from and how empathy begins with truth. It isn’t about rewriting history. It’s about completing it.”
Around the world, societies are re-examining how their histories are told. When people study the past honestly, whether it’s the brutality of Europe’s religious wars or Australia’s frontier conflicts, they begin to see why divisions persist and how understanding grows from truth.
When ratepayers gave the mayor boxing gloves in 1890, they weren’t kidding. 140 years later, council’s still trying to stop the money leaking out, one glove at a time.
If you’ve heard whispers that Kiama Council is in financial strife and thought, “Surely this is new?” — allow me to introduce you to the long and time-honoured tradition of municipal money woes. Because, dear reader, we’ve been broke since before board shorts, streetlights, or even bridges were cool.
In 1882, Kiama Council approached Parliament to borrow money for, you guessed it, a tramway. At the time, it was seen as a visionary move. The blue metal trade was booming, basalt was being hauled from the hills to the harbour by horse and dray, and the dust and mud on Kiama’s streets were choking businesses and water tanks. A tramline was proposed to streamline transport from the quarries to the port and keep Kiama competitive in the shipping trade. It might have been brilliant, had it worked.
Instead, it went over budget, underused, and over the edge of financial logic. By 1890, the council was broke. Properly broke. Ratepayers were so fed up they literally handed the mayor a pair of boxing gloves at a council meeting. (Fact, not metaphor.)
By 1894, Kiama Council was saddled with a £4,000 debt to the bank, couldn’t afford basic street repairs, and had to sweep Terralong Street with brooms while dust blew into shops and ruined water tanks. The situation was so dire that they considered lighting the streets with acetylene gas instead of paying their overdue bill to the gas company.
Electricity? That was another slow burn. While towns up and down the coast were already flicking switches, Kiama was still dithering over tenders, tariffs, and the staggering cost of poles and wires. The council’s reluctance to commit funding meant Kiama lagged behind in the electrification stakes, and when lighting finally arrived, it lit up more resentment than roadways.
Water supply? That, too, was a long and thirsty road. For decades, residents relied on rooftop tanks, wells, and carted water. By the late 1800s, a proper water scheme was desperately needed. Eventually, the solution came in the form of Fountaindale Dam,
located at the confluence of Tangalla Gully and Fountaindale Creek, approximately 10 km west of Kiama. A concrete wall was built to hold back the water, and in 1909 the dam was completed as an on-stream storage facility. It officially became part of Kiama’s water supply system in 1909 at a cost of £7,073 (roughly $1.1 million today). Pipes were laid, tanks were constructed, and water finally flowed. It was a triumph, briefly.
Fast forward to today and the irony is hard to miss. Fountaindale Dam still sits there, perched on what is now my family’s farm. It no longer supplies water to Kiama, having been decommissioned in 1977, yet the dam’s massive wall remains council’s responsibility, a costly, aging relic of early infrastructure dreams that now brings nothing but maintenance bills and engineering headaches. It is not accessible to the public.
Public buildings? Repeatedly proposed, repeatedly defeated, sometimes by referenda with fewer than 20 votes. A grand new civic hall was once declared too ambitious. Central Park was dismissed as a “disgrace to the title,” filled with weeds, quarry rubble, and good intentions.
And the consequences of all this financial floundering? They were significant.
In 1890, after years of frustration, Gerringong and Jamberoo both seceded, forming their own municipalities and taking with them not only their rates but also a good chunk of local identity and political momentum. The split was celebrated with banquets, and the division remained in place until the mid-1950s.
Even surf culture faced municipal delay. When locals pushed for public bathing and beach access, council’s response was to fine the first man caught swimming in view of the street. It took years, and another round of public outcry, before bathing laws were finally revised and surf clubs allowed to form.
So if you’re feeling nostalgic about balanced budgets and visionary spending, maybe don’t. The truth is, we’ve always operated somewhere between ambition and overdraft.
The real question isn’t, “How did we get into debt?” It’s more like, “Do we ever learn?”
Nola Irvine’s life was a testament to love, resilience, and community spirit. Her ever-smiling face, unwavering friendship, and compassionate personality left an indelible mark on all who knew her. As we remember Nola, we celebrate a life well-lived, filled with joy, strength, and an enduring faith in God.
Irvine Family- L to R Back Row Sisters Nola, Valma, Olwyn and Molly, Front Row Parents Ivy ( nee Fredericks) and Robert Irvine
Nola Marjory Irvine’s life is a beautiful tapestry woven with threads of love, resilience, and an unwavering spirit. Born on July 21, 1926, at “Brooklyn,” a private hospital in Kiama, Nola was baptized and christened in the Church of the Resurrection (CoE), where she remained a devoted member throughout her life.
Nola grew up on Clover Hill, a dairy farm run by her parents, Robert and Ivy Irvine, since their marriage in 1920. Despite the untimely passing of her father in 1949, the family continued to manage the farm with the invaluable support of share-farming families like Ray and Avril King and later, Michael and Lynne Strong. These families provided much more than labour; they offered genuine friendship and neighbourly support, enabling the Irvine family to stay rooted at Clover Hill.
Education was a challenge in the early days, with Nola and her sisters often riding horses and walking long distances to attend Jamberoo Public School. Eventually, Nola completed her education through correspondence with Blackfriars’ Correspondence School, which later became known as the School of the Air.
Nola Irvine is 2nd from the right in the bottom row at Jamberoo Public School circa 1931-1932
Nola’s childhood memories are filled with joy and laughter. Visits to Clover Hill were marked by her great sense of humour, engaging board games, and delicious treats. Her love for animals was evident as she cared for her chooks, cats, birds, and cows, always accompanied by her faithful feline friends during farm chores.
Diagnosed with Coeliac disease in 1985, Nola faced her health challenges with remarkable strength and positivity. Her condition, undiagnosed for many years, never dimmed her spirit.
Her favourite saying, “it’s only a problem if you make it one,” encapsulated her approach to life. Nola’s calm, loving nature and unwavering faith were a testament to her resilience and courage.
Nola was an active member of the Girls Friendly Society during the war years, participating in hikes and picnics. Her loyalty and warmth were highlighted by her pen pal relationships, particularly with friends in England, which spanned over 50 years. A visit from her pen pals about a decade ago was a cherished moment, allowing Nola to proudly showcase her beautiful district.
Her passion for photography, inherited from her father, and her interest in family history were integral parts of her life. Nola played a significant role in researching and publishing the Fredericks Family History in the 1970s, preserving the legacy of her ancestors, including her two great-great-grandfathers who fought in the 1815 Battle of Waterloo.
Nola’s life was a testament to love, resilience, and community spirit. Her ever-smiling face, unwavering friendship, and compassionate personality left an indelible mark on all who knew her. As we remember Nola, we celebrate a life well-lived, filled with joy, strength, and an enduring faith in God.
Nola Marjory Irvine, born July 21, 1926, passed away on June 20, 2004. Her legacy continues to inspire us, reminding us of the power of love and resilience.
Despite the relentless challenges—the physical labour, the long hours, and the emotional toll of sustaining a legacy—the passion for dairying persists. For the Irvine sisters, Clover Hill is more than just land; it is a testament to resilience, a beacon of heritage, and a promise of continuity in the face of adversity.
Molly and Olwyn Irvine Photo Sylvia Liber Illawarra Mercury
As in McLeod’s Daughters, the Irvine women of Jamberoo have dedicated their lives to keep Clover Hill Dairies in the family.
Olwyn Irvine, 83 sparks up the combustion stove in the old Jamberoo farmhouse – it will cook the nightly meal and heat water for their daily shower. Her sister Molly, 81 carts in the firewood as she has done since she was a girl. The stove is solid and reliable – a reminder of a simpler life.
“We’ve had this stove for 50 years and never thought to get a new one,” says Olwyn.
Step outside the Irvine’s front door and 30m away is some of the most advanced computerised technology known to the dairy industry. Along with farming partners Michael and Lynne Strong, the four sisters, including Valma and Nola, have helped transform Clover Hill Dairies into one of the most productive dairy farms in the country. Deregulation forced their hand. The sisters, accustomed to sacrifice and hard times, didn’t blink when in 2000 the Strong’s put forward a daring proposal to keep the farm afloat.
Nick Strong continues the Irvine Sisters’ legacy
Clover Hill has been a bit like the television series McLeod’s Daughters. After their father died in 1949, the girls stayed on the land to help their mother run the farm – finishing their schooling by correspondence. They never married or had children and they’ve always lived in the farmhouse, enjoying each others company around the old kitchen table.
Nola, Valma, Olwyn and Molly ( Myra) Irvine with their mother Ivy and father Robert Irvine
In 1939 a battery run wireless was their only link to the outside world, but today a television positioned in the kitchen keeps the women informed.
Valma, Molly and Olwyn continued to play and active role in the dairy into their 80s
In the last two years Valma, 83, and Nola, 78, have died leaving Olwyn and Molly to make the tough decisions. But dairying is in their blood and the women have shown the same resilience their forefathers did 150 years ago.
The original Clover Hill homestead and dairy
The farm has been in their family since 1851, when their great great grandfather James Irvine and his son purchased the land naming it Clover Hill. With 180 degree views of the ocean, the Irish settlers cleared the rainforest and forged a new life for themselves in a strange environment.
Molly and Olwyn’s grandfather James and his wife Sarah ( nee Purnell ) on their wedding day
There have now been four generations of Irvine’s farming on the side of Saddleback Mountain. When the sister’s were young there were 300 dairy farms in the Kiama area – today there are just 30. In the six years since deregulation 50 per cent of dairy farms in NSW and Queensland have disappeared.
Deregulation has halved the farm-gate price of milk, but the drought has been the tipping-point for many asset rich, cash poor farmers who’ve made the agonising decision to walk away from their land.
Those who survived were forced to change. More milk had to be produced to make the same amount of money. A decision was made at Clover Hill to “ramp-up” the operation and to pour hundreds of thousands of dollars back into the farm. It was a defining moment for the Strong’s.
Lynne, a pharmacist for 25 years, gave up her career to return to the land full-time, so too did their only son Nick, who had just completed his HSC.
“Most people sold their cows, but we did the opposite,” says Lynne. “We’re now running four times the amount of cows per hectare than we did before deregulation.”
To finance the move the Strong’s and the sisters sold a 280ha joint investment property out west. With the money they built a state-of-the-art $300,000 milking shed which has the capacity to milk 28 cows at a time. Now instead of 80 cows a day, they milk 300.
It was 28 years ago when Michael, then 23, began share farming at Clover Hill. The women took a chance delegating responsibility of their livelihood to someone so young – but it wasn’t to be their last leap of faith in him.
The sisters had grown up with Australian Illawarra Shorthorn cows (AIS), but Michael was keen to swap the herd for Holsteins, a breed which produces more milk. Just before deregulation they reluctantly agreed.
Each cow is now considered a potential elite athlete and the farm hires a full-time nutritionist to feed them a combination of pellets, vitamins, grain and corn.
“If you change a cows diet overnight and you get it right there’s more milk in the vat the next day, but if you stuff it up you get less milk,” explains Lynne. “The results are instant, it’s just so dramatic. There’s a huge amount of research into the science of this industry.”
Hard work and clever decisions have paid off and now Clover Hill Dairies is regarded as one of the most productive farms in the country, with four of its cows this year becoming Australian record holders.
In the show ring too they’ve had success winning the All Australian Three-Year-Old, the first time the farm has ever taken out the award.
“This farm would be up there with the best in the country,” says Lynne. “But people are out there doing it equally as well.”
The view from Clover Hill is spectacular, but Michael Strong isn’t taking in the scenery. Instead he casts a critical eye over his herd of Holsteins. Despite having some of the best and most productive cows in the country he’s still not content. He’d like all of his cows to reach an elite level.
“When you win at the shows you think well I’ve done an alright job,” says Michael. “But when I stand there and look at the herd, I’m pretty critical, I want them all to look wonderful every day of the week.”
Every 12 months the Strong’s and the Irvine’s reinvent the farm. This year they made another decision to increase milking from two to three times a day -starting at 4am and ending at 10pm.
Nick’s decision to follow in his father’s footsteps, although celebrated by both families, also increased the pressure to produce more milk.
“You’ve got to produce a million litres a year to support one family, so obviously we had to double that,” says Lynne. “Now we produce 21/2 million litres and we’re now heading towards three million.”
Before machinery the sisters would have to milk 50 cows by hand twice a day.
“I was very good at milking,” says Olwyn proudly. “‘I used to milk eight cows in one hour and that was good going. It’s hard to deal with all the progress, but we’ve just accepted everything as it’s come, you’ve got to move into the modern world.”
The farm has always been the centre of their lives and they never had any desire to travel overseas or have a family of their own. They still have their jobs around the farm to do, Olwyn mops up the buckets after each milking and Molly teaches the calves to feed.
“We grew up in the war years so I suppose we just stayed on the farm and worked,” says Molly. “I did have some admirers though.” “So did I,” chimes in Olwyn. “But none I wanted to marry.”
Olwyn admits that as a girl she never imagined that the farm would always be her whole life.
“It’s been a hard life I suppose in a way, it’s the same thing over and over, but there’s been lots of pleasures.”
The farm house has always been full of children, either relatives or the offspring of the share farmers working on the farm.
Nick spent his afternoons after school sitting around the Irvine’s kitchen table playing with toy farm animals waiting for his father to finish the milking. Clover Hill has always been his home and the sisters consider him part of their family.
Lynne doesn’t fit the farmer mould and happily admits to never having milked a cow in her life. But having grown up on farms she’s not scared to get dirty and it’s her job to look after the calves. She’s also in charge of the never-ending bookwork and data-entry with each cow having a record since birth.
Since deregulation the dairy is run more like a business. “In one way deregulation was good for us,” says Lynne. “We’ve made wise choices and we’ve become more efficient.”
But it’s been a risk and at times they’ve wondered if it will work – particularly as the drought begins to squeeze.
“The drought is tough, it’s really tough and because the animals are so important to us we don’t downgrade the amount of feed we use, we take the view that the cows are number one in our operation and they have to be looked after. I think though if it goes on for another year all dairy farmers will have to review their situation.”
Grain has doubled in price in the last month and 2007 is already shaping up to be a bleak year for many farms. Thanks to Lynne’s bargaining skills the farm was lucky to have locked in grain at the old price until the next harvest.
The drought has turned cows into a valuable commodity and there are now plans to diversify the business. In the future they hope to sell 30 high pedigree cows a year on the international market – so the dairy won’t be so dependent on the farm-gate price of milk. But first they need to improve their progeny. Twice a year a specialist vet from Victoria transforms a section of the farm into a mini fertility hospital. In August 14 cows of high genetic merit were chosen as donors and were super-ovulated. A week later the embryos were flushed out of the cow’s uterus and viewed under a microscope with the live embryos then being either frozen or implanted into surrogate cows.
“Each year there’s a new development in the research,” says Lynne. “It’s like the dairy industry is the frontier of IVF and I imagine that a lot of the success on dairy farms actually goes back into the human research.”
There have also been massive changes to the farm’s physical boundaries and a road now runs through the middle of the property. To ensure a sustainable and viable dairy long-term, in 1998 they swapped two parcels of non-farmable land for 40 farmable hectares. Today there are seven Torrens Title lots on the 120ha property, of which two-thirds is rainforest, creating a rural hamlet within the working farm.
With the sale of each lot came a list of covenants to ensure Clover Hill Dairies always had the right to farm. There are never any complaints about the odour, the lights or noise and there are strict rules about pets and priority water for the farm.
“It’s a fairly unique situation,” says Lynne. “We have urban and rural co-existing together. “The sub-division has been developed around the dairy and the sizes of the blocks haven’t impacted on the farm at all – most of the lots are rainforest and allow for only a small section of land to be built on.”
But even with close neighbours dairying can be a harsh and isolating life.
“It’s not so much hard work, but hard hours, you get tired of course and you get your down moments when you wish you’d done something else with your life,” says Michael. “But it doesn’t last long, the cows are my passion and that’s what keeps me going.” “I’m always thinking about the heritage of the farm, it’s been such a privilege to live here. The sisters have made a lot of sacrifices to keep the farm going and I’d like to think that there will be a dairy farm on Clover Hill for many years to come.”
This blog post is a reprint of a story by Jodie Duffy in the Illawarra Mercury Weekender 21 October 2006 and is part of the Irvine Family history series
The 1st of March launches an important pasture management strategy for our dairy farmers. Its so important that our dairy farmers DO NOT take holidays in March or April.
So what is the story…
In the picturesque rain-fed pastures of Jamberoo, dairy farmers have mastered the art of keeping their lands green and productive throughout winter and spring. The secret? A strategic farming technique known as oversowing, where ryegrass seeds are introduced into existing kikuyu grass pastures. This practice is crucial for ensuring that cows have access to energy-rich feed during the colder months when the robust summer grass, kikuyu, fades.
However, this isn’t without its challenges. The high rainfall in Jamberoo can sometimes lead to an overgrowth of kikuyu, making the planting of ryegrass a bit of a balancing act. Farmers must carefully manage the kikuyu levels to give the ryegrass seeds a fighting chance to establish themselves without competition. This meticulous management is what sets Jamberoo’s dairy farms apart, ensuring that they remain green and productive even when other farms do not.
To tackle the task, many farmers in the area have turned to innovative methods like using fertiliser spreaders for efficient seed distribution —a tool that plants seeds directly into the soil with minimal disturbance. This not only preserves the soil structure but also reduces erosion and maintains moisture levels, making it a win-win for both the environment and the farmers.
Other farmers in Jamberoo opt for direct drilling, a technique that allows for precise seed placement into the soil without significantly disturbing the existing grass or soil structure. This method is especially beneficial for integrating ryegrass into kikuyu pastures, as it minimizes competition and promotes better seed germination and growth. By using direct drills, farmers can maintain the soil’s health, reduce erosion, and ensure that the new seeds have the best possible start, contributing to the sustainability and productivity of their dairy farms.
This photo shows a direct drill where a light knock down spray has being used to give the ryegrass every possible advantage
While sod seeding ryegrass into kikuyu offers benefits, managing kikuyu’s aggressive growth is crucial to prevent it from overwhelming the ryegrass. Effective strategies include regular mowing or slashing to keep kikuyu manageable. In cases where kikuyu growth is too dense, farmers might opt to bale it for silage, ensuring the ryegrass has room to establish. Additionally, setting clear boundaries is essential to contain kikuyu within desired areas, preventing it from encroaching into spaces reserved for ryegrass.
While kikuyu grass offers rapid establishment and drought resistance, its aggressive growth requires diligent management. Through innovative practices and careful planning, the dairy farmers of Jamberoo have found ways to harness its advantages while ensuring the successful establishment of ryegrass, thereby keeping their pastures and our rolling green hills productive year-round.
The story of pasture management in Jamberoo highlights several connections to the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). Let’s explore them:
SDG 2: Zero Hunger
The oversowing technique ensures that cows have access to energy-rich feed during colder months, contributing to food security for both humans and animals.
By maintaining productive pastures, dairy farmers support sustainable food production.
SDG 15: Life on Land
The meticulous management of kikuyu levels demonstrates responsible land stewardship.
Innovative methods like using fertiliser spreaders and direct drilling minimize soil disturbance, reduce erosion, and promote soil health.
SDG 12: Responsible Consumption and Production
Efficient seed distribution through fertiliser spreaders reduces waste and ensures optimal resource use.
Direct drilling minimizes resource-intensive practices, aligning with sustainable production principles.
SDG 13: Climate Action
By preserving soil structure and reducing erosion, these practices contribute to climate resilience.
Maintaining green pastures helps sequester carbon and mitigate climate change.
SDG 6: Clean Water and Sanitation
Reduced erosion and moisture preservation benefit water quality and availability.
Responsible seed placement minimises water runoff and contamination.
SDG 8: Decent Work and Economic Growth
Efficient pasture management supports dairy farmers’ livelihoods and economic stability.
Innovative techniques enhance productivity and profitability.
In summary, Jamberoo’s pasture management strategy exemplifies sustainable practices that address multiple SDGs, promoting environmental conservation, food security, and economic well-being. 🌱🐄🌎
The crowd loved the didjeridoo performance by Quinten Dingo-Donovan – a moving tribute that connected the past and present.
Aunty Dr Joyce Donovan is presented with a certificate by Kiama District Historical Society president Sue Eggins, marking her appointment as the Society’s first Aboriginal Elder Patron — a recognition of more than 15 years of collaboration and contribution to keeping Kiama’s shared history alive.
