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“Even as a young boy, I felt sad at the sight of bare hills – at what had been lost. Without audible words, the land spoke to me. In its exposed brokenness, the land itself seemed to be grieving and crying out for help and restoration. As we drove, in my mind’s eye I was on those hills in my gumboots, shovel in hand, planting trees,” says Australian Anglican and agronomist Tony Rinaudo AM
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