Rows of gnarled gum trees line farmer Tom Green's wheat and canola crops outside Forbes, a towering reminder of devastating floods in 1990.
"The forest of trees just sprung up out of the floods," Mr Green tells AAP, standing in his paddock 16 kilometres west of the NSW town.
Three decades later, Mr Green wearily surveys 350 hectares of sodden crops - which are yellowing and sitting in thick mud after heavy rain - as flood predictions loom.
He hopes to salvage some of the plants over summer, after losing a crop of chickpeas to rain and floods last year.
The people of Forbes, which sits on the Lachlan River in the state's central west, are used to floods, having endured major and memorable inundations in 1952, 1990, 2012, 2016 and 2021.
The town of 9000 people is preparing for flooding later this week, with the river expected to exceed the major flooding peak of 10.55 metres, narrowing in on those historic disasters.
At Mr Green's property, cattle dogs rest as he moves farming gear higher up in his shed.
Like many farmers, he is pragmatic and stresses that things could be much worse.
"It's better than drought," Mr Green said.
He is the chair of Lachlan Valley Water, an irrigators' group, which has pushed for raising the Wyangala Dam wall, a project that will add 53 per cent more storage.
The construction was announced during the drought in 2019, as a way to improve water security and mitigate flooding. It is in the final stages of planning, as the dam releases 30,000 megalitres per day.
"We want the government to know we need infrastructure to better deal with climate change and climate variability," Mr Green said.
"It's part of the game in farming, but the continual decline of terms of trade are making the risks bigger and the rewards smaller."
All Mr Green can do now is wait to see where the rain falls, and which creeks will swell, as the Lachlan River flows fast behind his sheds.
Bob Wythes inspected the flood marker beneath the Iron Bridge on Wednesday morning, as the river crept above 10.1 metres in a matter of minutes.
Mr Wythes said the water was lapping at his farm gate, where he had just sown lucerne after losing another crop only recently.
"That's the nature of the business," Mr Wythes said with a shrug.
He has flashes of memories of the floods throughout the 1950s, like his father picking him up from his grandmother's house as waters rose.
"But I can't ever remember a wet autumn and a wet spring colliding together. It's phenomenal."
Now in his 70s, Mr Wythes worries the increasingly unpredictable conditions are putting off the next generation of farmers.
"My kids don't want to come back," he said.
Megan Rogers, an agricultural consultant and sheep farmer, said a third of her property has been underwater for months.
She and her husband have only been able to plant 60 hectares of grazing oats, compared to the 500 hectares of winter crops like wheat, canola and barley they would usually sow.
Her family is preparing to be isolated, with water expected to cut off their driveway from the highway.
"It's not biblical here yet," she said.
"But we would have had 40 days and 40 nights of this year."
