The year 2020 will be one for the history books - globally for the pandemic which swept the world, but closer to home it was the remarkable recovery of the agriculture industry, which arguably had a bigger impact on the everyday lives of regional Australians.
For me personally, COVID-19 meant the postponement of my wedding and separation from family and friends, but 'working from home' also meant I was able to live on the farm full-time.
It would be completely wrong to undermine the suffering COVID-19 has brought to so many, but I can't get myself on the 'let's forget 2020 ever happened' train either.
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We finished harvest yesterday and like so many farmers I have interviewed this year, it was one of the best we've ever seen.
The feeling of relief when the last strips were done and the headers finally put away was one I'm sure was experienced up and down the state.
For until the moment when it is all, quite literally in the bag (or silo), so much still hangs in the balance.
There's the potential of header fires, breakdowns, the much feared weather delays and quality discounts a La Nina could bring, mice or locusts - the more accustomed you become to farming the more you understand what can go wrong.
So when it all comes together so perfectly like it did in 2020, it's hard to agree with the memes that declare 2020 a year where nothing went right.
I have only been a rural journalist for three years, a pittance on what The Land veterans Mark Griggs and Karen Bailey have racked up, so what still astounds me is how quickly everything can change.
Last year I was consumed by stories on zero water allocations, containment lots, a sky-rocketing feed market and saleyards filled with producers' forced to sell-off their herds.
If you had told me that this year I would be reporting on dam levels reaching 95 per cent, a record harvest of 17.6 million tonnes in NSW (forecast by ABARES), a grass-drunk cattle market which saw steers attract more than 900 cents per kilogram and a collapsed hay market, well put simply I wouldn't have believed you, let alone bet on it.
Despite the latest outbreak, I am hopeful this time next year when we look back at COVID-19, lockdown, social distancing and toilet paper shortages, will all seem like a fairly surreal dream.
But, although we might shake off the everyday challenges a drought or pandemic bring, the lessons we learn along the way will not be left behind.
We have certainly witnessed farmers carry with them the lessons from the last drought - more hay is being cut in the hills than ever seen before as producers race to fill the sheds and silage pits.
On-farm silos went up at a rate of knots, Andrew Kotzur of silo manufacturing company, Kotzur said this year their orders had almost tripled, while research into the impact of containment lots and new drought-resistance wheat varieties is underway.
The other lesson I hope we take with us is that living remotely does not have to limit your opportunities.
This year we saw everyone around the world experience a taste of what living in rural areas is like.
Yes, it can be isolating, you can't always pop out to the shops and at times you can go a little nuts, but with the technology and know-how now on offer, you can also pretty much achieve everything you set out to do.
Although, speaking from experience a dodgy internet connection will bring all your dreams crashing down (and could cause you to throw the modem at the wall).
For people living on farms, this year has proven that the world is still our oyster.
In saying that there is nothing like face-to-face contact and all of my highlights at The Land this year were when I had the opportunity rev up the Triton again and hit the road.
My most memorable road trip was a visit to the town of Cobargo.
I arrived 10 months after the fires ripped through the town, burning around 220 houses and taking the lives of two local men.
Before my visit I had asked the local stock agent who might be a good person to do a livestock story with and he suggested Warren Salway, the brother and uncle of Robert and Patrick Salway who died in the fires.
Warren himself had lost 150 head of their cattle, around 80 sheep, two houses, five sheds, six loads of hay bales, two sets of stockyards and 30km of fencing in the fires.
It was with trepidation that I gave him a call, unsure how he would feel about talking but I got a 'sure, no worries.'
When I arrived at the Salway's farm Warren and his wife Helen were still at a family funeral, their fifth for the year, and I was greeted by their dog who jumped straight into my ute when I opened the door and an equally friendly sheep.
The warm welcome continued when Warren and Helen arrived and over a cup of tea I was left astonished at what they had been through and their ability to find the energy to start picking up the pieces.
"Seven days a week, we haven't stopped," Warren told me.
The term resilience is over-used but I don't know if there is another word to describe it.
I also saw it in spades from the students of Cobargo Public School who I visited earlier that day.
The students along with their teacher Campbell Kerr had written a book on their experience of the bushfires which was published by Littlescribe, a program aiming to improve children's literacy skills, which The Land has partnered with this year. Their book 'The Day She Stole the Sun' was remarkable, but what moved me even more was speaking to the children about the experience of writing it and seeing their pride in the book, their class and their town.
Year six student Nate Miller said the book showed Cobargo was "nice, kind, thoughtful and strong".
The students wanted to show me, their community and the greater public that there is always something positive to be found, even in a year like 2020.
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