Nestled along the Great Southern Railway line, Brookton is a small Wheatbelt town home to less than 1000 residents. Its quiet charm greets you; the old hotel, a handful of rustic shops and sleepy gumtrees swaying in the breeze.
In April of 2025, I travelled to Brookton with 10 fellow third year medical students for a three-day rural placement. The objective? A community garden ‘busy bee.’
Our group of back-pain free, clean-nailed city kids were put to work helping to build garden beds from old fertiliser containers. Each was filled with gravel, then mulch, then potting mix – an unexpectedly strenuous task – before finally the plants could be added.
To be candid, we were sceptical. Shovelling gravel and mulching may be ‘hands on’ tasks, but hardly had the allure of a scalpel. We wondered: “how could a community gardening event be relevant to future doctors?”
By the end of those three days, after countless wheelbarrow runs, hot cuppas, production lines and one truly unforgettable pea and ham soup, the answer was obvious:
Community is the foundation of rural health.
Over the weekend we met locals from all walks of life, including the CWA ladies who fuelled the workers with their scones and soup, the farmers who donated their time and power tools, and some local year 10 students who just liked getting their hands dirty.
I was fortunate enough to get to chat with two of the women who were the drivers of the project. Neither had a passion for gardening, in fact, neither had much knowledge of gardening whatsoever. But they recognised the need for a shared purpose that would bring their community closer together.
Working in rural health care is challenging; infrastructure gaps, long hours and large commutes are the norm. Not to mention a large emotional toll in treating people you know – neighbours, friends and sometimes even family. The lines blur between clinician and community member. Often, this is painted as a downside to being a rural practitioner. But really, those deep community roots grow something greater, a place where people look out for one another, and a community that deeply trusts their healthcare workers, which in turn, sustains them.
As a student from a rural background, I understand how tightly woven the threads of a small town can be. And in Brookton, elbow-deep in a pile of old manure and laughing with strangers, that bond could not have been more apparent. Now, as a future doctor I carry this lesson with me: belonging is a superpower.
Out here, medicine is about more than just prescriptions. It’s about people. Connection. Cuppas. And yes, sometimes manure. But this is rural medicine. And it’s pretty special.
Supporting rural health care workers means recognising their strength comes from being embedded in a community that values them. Projects that foster connection, trust and a sense of shared purpose don’t just make people feel good – they build a stronger rural health workforce. This doesn’t start in hospitals, but in gardens, sheds, backyards and over shared meals. These are places where people, and medicine, grow.