Author Archives: sophie

Two scared horses come home at last

by . Posted on
26 Nov

Baby has been a quaking, shaking wreck for a week!  I brought her home on Tuesday morning once my foot had returned to approximately normal size and I had spent several hours trying to find them on ‘the other side’.  I brought them back to the house side and as soon as Ged’s horses saw my two they started cantering up towards them, so I thought I’d just let them run together and let my two go.  Big mistake!  They were last seen by George heading up the old ‘road’ up into the hilly ridge and then they were gone all day.  Ged came home to help me look for them and after much driving around, we found them looking sheepish and heading back down the self same road they had last been seen haring up with the hounds of hell apparently at their heels.  By  this time I had locked Ged’s horses in the yards after counselling from my Horse Herbalist.  And I brought my two home, washed them down, soothed them with words and ‘Settle Petal herbal remedy, fed them their favourite tasty morsels and then, once they seemed normal and calm, let them go again.  Big, big mistake!

Baby galloped up a vertical hill and just kept going.  I didn’t see where.  They were AWOL for two days and nights despite us both putting in countless miles on foot and in the car trying to track them down.  George tried ‘thinking like a horse’ and poking round in the dust looking for tracks – ‘don’t be surprised if I turn black’ he said but to no avail.  You can imagine how stressed I was!  Finally George dragged me out of bed at 7am after their second night out in the wilderness and insisted on going out looking for them with me in the car because he was determined we would find them out feeding in the cool of the day.  Sure enough, we crested a ridge and George said ‘turn around, that’s it, you can stop looking now’.  ‘Where?’ I said, peering left and right.  ‘Straight ahead’ and there they were.  Naughty children!  I got out and caught them and sent George home driving the Pajero (hilarious!)  and both Ged and George could finally relax again because I had a smile on my face.  Ged had taken his horses over to the other side so I shut my two in the yards to feed them, de-tick them and so they could see for themselves that the scary ghosts were all gone.  More ‘Settle Petal’, more sweet words of wisdom and love and more tasty titbits and I left them there for an hour or so to calm down and re-establish their territory.  Then I let them go.  BIG MISTAKE!  Off they galloped.  At least this time I knew where they were going so I tracked them and watched their meandering but determined trail up into the far corner of the property so they could hide behind the trees and keep a sharp eye on about 50 acres all at once.  Crazy horses!  They stayed away all day and night again so I got up with the birds again to catch them and bring them home again.  This time Ged came with me and we closed some gates behind us so they were confined to the long skinny river paddock (which they love) and then we had to go down to Newcastle for the day.
We had a four hour drive and just managed to fit in a wee and some sort of salad roll before my 12 noon meeting with the Bridal Consultant at David Jones.  Ged had to deliver his dirt bike and accessories to one brother (meanie Sophie made him sell it!)  and acres of camping gear to the other brother as well as a number of other chores to complete on the Central Coast so I was left to my own devices.  Not such a great plan as it turned out!  I didn’t realise that making a wedding list was not a simple matter of waltzing around the store with a mincing minion behind me, pointing out delectable items of homeware and saying ‘I’ll have one of those, two of those . . . ‘ etc.  No, no, no.  Five and a half hours trapped in an airless, fluorescent, two floor store, examining every item for sale, picking the ones I liked and then having to write down each one’s barcode, serial number, department number, price etc ., etc.,  I was on the phone saying ‘Honey, where are you?’ before the second hour was up . . . .!!
But once my pulse had returned to normal, my eyes had adjusted once again to daylight, and I had been picked up by the errant husband to be, I was able to report that I had chosen some really lovely things to make our house a home.  And as you all know how impossible I am to buy for, I am sure you will be glad I have taken the stress out of second guessing me in the matter of gift giving!  Ged was happy because I also spotted a beautiful handbag I fancied for Christmas so I’ve done his Christmas shopping too!
When we got off the highway and onto the dirt roads heading home we realised that while I had been in my artificial environment, and Ged clocking up the miles in the sun, it had obviously been pouring at home.  So we thought we’d better not use our normal through the river short cut, but go over the bridge.  I don’t think so!  We had only been gone for just over 12 hours and the river was up 4 foot!  So we flew home!  In the dark, no torch, and in our city finery on the flying fox over the raging river.  Phee was waiting on the verandah like the good boy that he is, somewhat surprised to see us suddenly appear in the yard with no prior warning!  (His nose is fully recovered, thank you, but he is currently waging war on all flying insects – he has got a bee in his bonnet about being stung again!)


George and I dropped a match in the big gully by the house . . . (is that the dragon Baby is so scared of??!!)

Runaway Children

by . Posted on
19 Nov

What a week! Grab a coffee, tea or G&T and settle down for a laugh . . . .

George is back so the activity (and laughs!) are fast and furious . . . he slashed the ‘House Ground’ (river flat in front of the house) and spotted that our resident plover female was firmly ensconced on her nest, and conducted a battle of wills to see who would yield first. George lost! Mrs Plover stuck fast until George and the slasher were within millimetres. Brave girl! I don’t sail so close to the wind with George! Needless to say, he slashed around the nest and later took me over to see it and FOUR lovely brown and black eggs (I know, I must take a picture).

Then, as if that wasn’t enough excitement for one day, the Jehovah’s Witnesses turned up. It was a gloriously sunny day, and after all those weeks of grey and unrelenting drizzle, I was determined to make the most of it, so I had decided to clean the accumulated months of mud off my car which turned into a mammoth session with the power washer and hoover and so I was bent over, hoovering the boot, in my skimpy running shorts and tee shirt when approached from behind by two suited and booted men clutching a bible and copies of ‘Watchtower’. They admitted that my lovely sawmill man, Chris Latimore, had suggested they came a-calling so I couldn’t be rude, I had to be charming and so we read bits of the bible together as we discussed their antipathy to blood and chatted generally about the state of the world, the community and the beauty of the day. Who knew that I could be SO diplomatic!!!

George came back from lunch while they had me mataphorically pinned against the wall and I saw him sniggering as he fired up the tractor and continued his linear progress up and down the flat. Once they were gone I decided to belatedly go for my run, and donned my baseball cap and fly veil. George stopped me in my tracks ‘I didn’t know you kept bees’. ‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me, George.’ ‘Got any honey to sell then?’. ‘Not yet, George’ He’s so sharp he’ll cut himself one of these days . . .

Then he decided that he had had enough of the piles of timber and old bricks STILL desecrating the House ground and enlisted me to help him move them. And he rolled one of the stay posts (one foot diameter for the uninitiated, and seven foot of hardwood) onto my right foot so I was literally hopping mad! It was a very short run . . .

On Tuesday night we hared out of Comboyne down to Laurieton to go and see ‘Death at a Funeral’ which had come highly recommended by Ged’s parents. Of course, we were late, but the movie really was hilarious. The ultimate in British family dysfunctionality, exposing all those wonderful family undercurrents and all the skeletons tumbling out of the closets (or coffin!). Highly recommended. Laugh out loud funny. Of course, when we got back to the car I said ‘I don’t know why you’re laughing, Ged, that’s just like MY family, you know!’

Once we had decided to get married, I had a clear picture in my mind of how I wanted the invitation to look. I wanted a sign made and a picture taken at our river-crossing entrance. It has taken months to get Ged to make the sign (so far down the list of priorities) but finally it was done, and beautiful. And I told George to slash the area when it transpired he was finally coming back to work after the wet and working for Frances next door (all the neighbours are so impressed with the progress at Avalon, they are all convincing George to do the same for them. ‘As long as I am still your number one priority, George . . . ‘). So the grass was cut, the sign made and Ged and I had a dusk session there, measuring the height I wanted it at and the distance from the gate post, and pulling out some tobacco trees which would ruin the perfection of the shot . . . I was due to take the photos the following day after Ged had chopped the sign down to exactly the right height. He came home that afternoon and said ‘did you take the photo this morning?’ ‘No’, I replied ‘I haven’t had time.’ So he broke the bad news ‘George dropped a match along the fence line’. So my beautifully cultivated oasis is a desecrated, darkened wasteland, and I guess I have to find another location for the photo shoot . . . .

A large number of you have asked about the ‘Giraffe Shed’ so here goes . . . the guy who owned the property before me was clearly an idiot. Not only did he build the cattle yards right next to the house; leave the land to go to rack and ruin; light a fire which burnt out half of the neighbouring national park; etc., but he built what we now call ‘The Giraffe Shed’. A roof on stilts – 6 metres off the ground – which means that even in the dead centre, you are still at the mercy of sun, wind and rain. And the roof is angled FORWARD so when it is raining you have to run through a wall of water to get to the car! Apparently he was going to build a boat in it . . . a tall ship? And sail it down the river like Noah when the flood came? Because how else would he have been able to get it out? Needless to say, making the shed shorter is yet one more thing to do on Ged’s list . . .

It was really hot at the weekend and so we didn’t seem to get so much done on Saturday. We filled up all the water bottles at Angle Creek and planted an Acer at ‘The Triangle’ and another Robinia along the ridge running down to the ‘House Ground’. I pulled down a fence and Ged cut down more She-Oaks along the river and piled them up ready for another big fire. And I had a big cook-in to re-stock the freezer which was cleaned out to feed Ged on his NT adventure. On Sunday morning I had booked George to go up to Ged’s and bring down his two horses so they turned up about 10 ish. His horse, Gypsy, is a GIANT. 17.5 or 18 hands of sparkly white. I swear you can see her from space! The other horse, Rocky, is a gorgeous buckskin gelding about 13 or 14 hands. I thought Tinkerbell would be thrilled to have such a good looking boy friend and Baby pleased to have someone other than Tinkerbell to talk to, but Tinkerbell put her ears back and charged and even Baby was bucking, rearing and running as if the world was ending (‘the sky is falling, the sky is falling . . . ‘)

So we left Ged’s horses in the yards and let mine have a good sniff and snort and then ignore them. So we put mine in the adjoining yards and they carried on like a couple of galahs (sorry, Aussie expression, no real English translation – closest is ‘idiots’) and then after they seemed to have settled down a bit, we tried putting them in together. Well, that looked like it was going to turn into a major kicking contest so I let go of the gate and let them free. My two streaked away as if the hounds of hell were after them and Gypsy and Rocky bolted after them. After one full circuit of this side (up the sheer banks of the gully, along the ridge, down the hill to the ribbon river flat) we followed them and when the ghostly Gypsy caught up, Tinkerbell again decided to take on the phantom who let fly with both barrels. No contact, but what a reach, what extension, what power! No wonder my two little girls took off again and this time ran right to the end of the river paddock. When I caught up with them they were wading, then swimming, downstream, unsure of anything except escape. I drove back for the camera as they looked so stunning swimming away. But when I returned with Ged they were long gone and I decided I’d better go and round them up and send them back before they swam down to the sea! I wasn’t suitable attired for river wading, shorts and girly slip-ons but I quietly tracked the horses through the she-oaks and snuck out in front of them to wave them back whence they had come. But they weren’t having any of it. They were going forward, not back, regardless of any obstacles in their way. So I grabbed Baby and decided to escort them over the river where Angle Creek joins it and up the steep ravine to the road and then back through the Angle Creek gate. We were almost at the other side when Baby planted her two tonne Tessie weight firmly on my left foot which was insecurely planted on a rock in the riverbed and there we stayed for what seemed like hours but probably wasn’t. I got her off and out and up the narrow, steep, pass and then had to let go such was the pain. She and Tinkerbell trotted up the cattle track to go and find their cow friends on the hitherto nexplored ‘other side’ of the property. And I hobbled to the bridge shouting at Ged to ‘get the car and meet me at the Angle Creek bridge’. My hero came roaring over the hill and took one look at me sitting huddled on the log bridge and scooped me up into his arms and into the car and home. He nursed me all day and waited on me hand and foot while I sat and lay with it elevated, iced and rested while it swelled ever bigger. He had to carry me to the loo and back and lift me into the bath and out and was so kind and sweet and concerned. Twice we got in the car to go to hospital to have it x-rayed and then twice I changed my mind, so he was absolutely the handsome romantic hero of my longings, carrying me hither and yon at my behest. By midnight I was hobbling and today I am almost walking so reiki and arnica have done their job well and hopefully tomorrow I can catch those recalcitrant children and teach them that sharing is just a part of life . . . thank God we don’t each have children and are starting a step-family – I couldn’t stand the strain!

As if that weren’t enough drama for one week, Phoenix was sulking on Saturday night for no apparent reason but on Sunday his silence and deep depression became obvious. His nose was swollen to about eight times its normal size! Obviously he has been stung by a bee or a wasp or something and she is still a very sad and swollen little soldier. We have been in the wars this week! There’s nothing quiet about living in the country . . . !


THE RUNAWAY CHILDREN . . .

Cleaning up the Bachelor Pad

by . Posted on
12 Nov

The deluge has continued and so there is nothing to report. Ged says ‘didn’t you do anything silly last week at all?’ Not that I can remember . . . .

We have had good soaking rain, and so all the creeks are running well into the river, and the river height has fluctuated by inches but it’s never gone all the way over the bridge. I have been coming in and out the long way round (THREE gates to open and close, plus all the puddle jumping!), but Ged has been parking on the other side and winging his way across in the Flying Fox.

We started clearing up his place at the weekend. Filled the back of the Pajero with bags and bulk for the Charity Shop and started cleaning and burning and scrapping. It reminded me of cleaning up polo yards! We had a big fire and pulled about a thousand weeds and then I started planting and re-seeding (my grass in the Angle Creek paddock is looking very lush after all this rain). We just got the paperwork through from one of the Environment Agencies as we have been looking at logging Ged’s heavily wooded 400 acres before we sell it. So we’ll see what happens with that. In the meantime, the pre-sale clean up continues . . . .

We have been costing a factory made cedar cabin for an office or a hand-built one and finally have decided to build our own which means we get exactly what we want for less money, but more work. So we are placing the orders for all the frames, trusses, cedar cladding, doors and windows this week and are determined to get it up and operational by Christmas (please God!) I’m going to have a big painting weekend this weekend since the sun will be shining again . . . (yet again the solar has held up amazingly through the dark, dull, drizzly days of the last two weeks – amazing!)

Now that the sun has made a welcome return, so has George so you can expect more interesting tales next week! He split open his tyre on a stupid concrete drain on the steep bit coming up from Angle Creek this morning so he wasn’t in the best of moods when I drove him round to the other side to collect his tractor!

The Jacarandas and Illawarra Flame Trees are ablaze, and driving anywhere on the roads has become an entertaining exercise of calf dodging so spring is really here!


JACARANDA TIME IN THE ‘HOUSE PADDOCK’ . . . (NOTE ‘GIRAFFE SHED’ IN
FOREGROUND!!)

Wheels, Wine and a Ring

by . Posted on
05 Nov

Thanks for all your worried emails re my wobbly wheels!  It turned out that the bone-rattling rides over the roads around here have been loosening the nuts on my bolts and THAT’S why the wheel fell off!  Actually, on consecutive runs over the next few days I found first the nut, then the washer, then the bolt at various stages on the farm road!

So it wasn’t too expensive, and I got my car back on Monday (phew!) and got back into the daily grind of winding up to the office in Comboyne.  It’s been raining for a week now.  So my grass is growing and so are the weeds!  Phoenix has learned to chase the cows away from the water troughs on command, because they love to drink all the horses’ water rather than sliding down the bank to the river and then trying to clamber back up the greasy slopes.  George has been very quiet because the lady who looks after Marcia has been away so he has been at home with her.

Ged finally wined and dined me on Friday.  We are sampling local restaurants so we can recommend fine dining for the folks when they are here in March.  We went to a little BYO restaurant called Fusion 7 with a bottle of Australian Sparkling I had been recommended to try for the wedding.  One sip and I was grimacing as the sugary sweet bubbles tasted like alcoholic lemonade to me – gross!  Back to the drawing board on something cheaper than the Widow for the wedding guests!  But the food was FANTASTIC.  Truly excellent food in this tiny little restaurant in Port Macquarie of all places.  Very pleased with that.  Ged had to drink most of the bottle, but even he couldn’t stomach too much of it!  Needless to say, I drove home!

We put the deposit down on the ring so it’s a work in progress now – 12 pink diamonds in a platinum channel setting – practical for my hard working life, pink diamonds because they are rare and exclusively Australian and platinum because it lasts and hopefully so will we!

We spent the weekend at a succession of parties with Ged’s family.  I was the entertainment as far as I can work out!  The fiancee was wheeled out in front of an enormous number of rellies (haven’t they heard of condoms???!!) at first brother Denis’s 34th Birthday Party on Saturday night, and then dad Denis’s (I know, I know, WHY do people name their children after the father?) 70th on Sunday.  I liked his sister very much, and ditto the next brother up.  I didn’t think much of the eldest but then as Ged used to work for him I know too many tales out of school!   Now I know how intimidating all the out-laws must find OUR family!! And right now I have sworn off a McCarthy Christmas (where can I run, where can I hide??) but who knows, I may mellow as the merryness of the season melts my hardened heart . . . !

George Jewels

by . Posted on
GEORGE MUSTERING
29 Oct

After telling George I wanted all the cows moved (we were up to 110!)

from ‘the other side’ to this, he turned up on Monday with his trusty
steed and set to work mustering them out of the scrub, she oaks and
river.  When I came back from my run and swim on a steamy Monday
morning, George had them all yarded bar 7 or 8 who had eluded his
round-up and I was pleased to see the back of the dry and pregnant
heifers who had significantly swelled the stock.  George has been
nagging me for months about riding my two and asked me ‘can I ride’
on numerous occasions – his look and demeanour always telling me
(when I say ‘a bit’) that he, and he alone, will be the judge of
that.  So on that day he just handed me the stringy reins of his
stock horse and grunted ‘go on, get on’.  So, despite the fact that I
was wringing wet and in my running shorts I hoisted myself into the
stock saddle and found out just how light and easy and impeccably
trained that horse is.  When I got off, he criticised my mounting
technique (apparently it is different for a stock saddle) but with a
sly smile gave me my first farming gold medal – ‘very good’!!

Having seen that I was happy to go swimming now that the weather is
warmer, George sent me across to find the wire so he could re-string
the block that got washed away in the big flood.  Very refreshing!
Much easier than in mid-winter – I definitely need a boat!  Even
George rolled up his trousers and I was treated to the sight of his
skinny, lily-white ankles – I don’t think they’ve seen the sun since
God was a boy!

We were standing on the ridge of the road one day, talking aout the
harrowing options he faces with Marcia who is getting worse with
every day that passes when he spotted an eagle soaring above us.
‘What’s he doing?’ he asked.  Ever the romantic, I replied that he
was just riding the thermals, revelling in his freedom and glorying
in the day.  Ever the pragmatist, George said ‘no he’s not, he’s got
his eye on something . . .. . . could be you, you’re small enough.’
‘Could be you’ I retorted ‘you’re not much bigger than me! . . . .
Mind you, he might like something with a bit more meat on its bones!’
Ged finally began the long trek home on Wednesday and such was his
desire to get home, they did 3,500kms in 48 hours and all my plans
were thrown out of the window when he announced he would be home on
Friday night, rather than Saturday as planned.  So I took the day off
and got the house scrubbed, polished and sparkling and even put a
fresh head on the razor for a thorough de-fuzzing.  And then I headed
out to re-stock the pantry in Wauchope when the wheels fell off my
world – literally! . . . .

I had worked til 2am on Thursday night/Friday morning and then, when
I was making the steep climb down Tom’s Creek Road into the valley
noticed with alarm that every time I braked, the wheels wrenched in
the opposite direction to the way I was steering.  I took it really
slowly and promised myself a wheel alignment at the earliest
opportunity.  By the time I got home it was pretty bad but when I got
in the car on Friday I realised that this was very serious.  I drove
the 2kms from the house to the main gate and then when I got out to
open it, took a close look at my wheels and find the driver’s side
front at a perilous 45 degree angle to the ground and car.  I wasn’t
going anywhere!  One call to the NRMA to come and pick up the car,
one to Ged to ring George to come and take me home (I was wearing
heels for once in my life and I was not walking! – anyway, I had done
my daily run, thank you very much!)  And so George lumbered to the
rescue in his huge cattle truck and in the end took me to Long Flat
to pick up the mail, sitting sandwiched between him and Marcia on the
bench seat, laughing all the way.  Bless him!

Ged did the shopping and came home to me and we took the weekend off
the yard and house work to revel in each other’s company . . .
aaahhhh, young love . . . .

Sewing, Growing and Losing my Locks

by . Posted on
22 Oct

I admit it – I’m exhausted. Trying too hard to show off my independence and get a lot done while Ged is away. Planting tree tubestock on a cliff face in 40 degree heat. And then slipping down the bank with full watering can and grazing breast, arm, shin etc and rapidly regretting my vision of gorgeous red bottlebrush gracing the bank and attracting parrots from miles around! OK, I’ll get back up there, but it is not a pleasant job!

George has been nagging me to stop exercising my limbs with lengthy runs around the property, and to get my upper body into better shape by broadcasting seed in the Angle Creek paddock he cleared. So finally I submitted to his iron will. And bored myself rigid, learning every rock and root in there as I hand scattered a mixture of rhodes, kikuyu and sawdust from the old mill. I’ve now got muscles in the bucket carrying arm that I never had before, little miss piggy eyes from the dust and a serious aversion to sowing! Please God let it rain now so all my hard work and isn’t wasted.

Summer has arrived and we are having hot, hot days. The ground and eucalypts are suddenly desperate for a decent soaking and as I have since sowed more seed on all the cleared banks as well as the lawn (got to get it all ready for our special day!) so am I. Now that I have overcome (to some extent) my rabid fear of the chainsaw I got into some serious sawing and cut down about 16 She Oaks along the river below the house to improve our view and river accessibility. George turned up and, looking very miffed, asked ‘who’s working for you now?’, indicating the chainsaw massacre. ‘Me!’ I retorted – ‘who else?’. Praise indeed – he said ‘good job’! . . . . I think I am finally earning my stripes!

Talking of massacres . . . more fool me I went to the local hairdresser on Friday (hereafter to be known as ‘The Butcher of Long Flat’) and I don’t know how it happened but she hacked off all my lovely long locks and when I got home I felt like Samson shorn of his strength and beauty. I cried and cried. And then, like a lamb to the slaughter, I called in the morning and requested that she try and fix it. Needless to say, both Saturday and Sunday were spent howling for my gorgeous long hair. Please say a prayer for rapid regrowth and that Ged still loves me without my crowning glory. I have sworn to let it grow and the only person who will ever touch it with scissors again is my Sydney hairdresser! No matter that it’s a five hour drive and $200.00 a cut!! Funny that I, who have spent most of my life with short hair, should be so devastated to lose the weight and femininity of long locks.

I have also been mowing the house paddock with Ged’s awful push me/pull you because mine has died and had to go in for a service. I am praying for a ride on for Christmas! I have planted the Gerberas from Gardens Direct and the lovely seeds Mummy sent after her trip to Canada so the daily watering session is becoming a lengthy meditation. The bloody cows have eaten much of my Angle Creek planting and I am trying to convince the horses not to eat the roses! 400 acres of grass to chew and they all have to pick on my small potential plots of beauty!

However, for all my moaning, it is starting to feel like a garden and now that the metal skip is gone is beginning to look less like a scrap yard and more like the setting for a home. On Saturday night, soaking my aching muscles in a hot bath, I realised that even God couldn’t keep going seven days in a row and she had a rest on Sunday, and I have vowed that from now on so will I!

So on Sunday, after a nice soothing run, and a splash through the river, (when Phoenix surprised a snake with markings I have never seen before. It splashed into the river with Phee in hot pursuit but set an amazing pace with its head raised and tongue flicking and I called Phee away before he got into trouble. Beautiful sight.) I had another long soak with Dick Francis and then trimmed Baby’s feet and washed her mane and tail and then after lunch I took them both down to the river and Baby, who I spent all last summer training not to be scared of the water, just got in and wallowed!

Clearing, Chainsawing and Croc infested waters

by . Posted on
Clearing at Angle Creek
15 Oct


Ged has gone away so last week was mainly directed at him getting him all packed with everything he needed for a three week adventure in the far Northern Territory (sounds like hell to me – sand flies, sweat, mosquitoes and crocodiles!) and him trying to get lots done in the yard and house before he left so I wouldn’t throw too many tantrums about the lack of progress while he was getting eaten alive in the Gulf of Carpentaria.  The logical question at this juncture is WHY would anyone want to drive for twelve hours a day over three and half days in order to go somewhere hot, bug-ridden and crocodile infested?  It’s beyond me, but before I came along and he had a life (!) he used to go on these crazy camping adventures.  This one is supposed to be a fishing trip but since fishing bores him rigid, I can’t quite see the point and neither can he, but plans long since made must be honoured so I am all on my tod again (already!)

I have been logically working my way through a long list of jobs and enjoying the silence and the solitude.  Phee has been revelling in being the sole focus of my  intention and getting under the duvet privileges again.  I steered clear of the chainsaw until Sunday and then had to swallow the fear in order to try and tame the orange tree trim into something I could burn.  By Monday at 7.30am I was wielding it like a pro and had significantly diminished the boughs into ash.  Go, girl!  I forgot how independent and invincible I am!

Even George has abandoned me as he has reached his monthly ‘cap’.  He has done some amazing clearing work again.  He takes that tractor where no sane person would go – he goes up and down vertical cliffs and while it often seems like we work for George, not the other way round, when I throw a mini hissy fit about some part of the farm that is driving me crazy (normally lantana related!) he gets to work to make me happy.  The whole of the ridge coming up from Angle Creek was overgrown with 6 foot of lantana and now it’s all gone – thank you, George.  He has also been clearing the big gully on the bend coming down to the house and I have grand plans that I haven’t shared with him yet for a waterfall and a dam there.  I cornered him the other day before he disappeared for the month and asked him for a map of how he would want the cattle yards planned out as I was coming round to his way of thinking, that they could be relocated to the flat by Angle Creek (it is a natural mustering triangle – see picture below).  So he showed me the clearing work he has already done so he can build a fence from the creek up the far ridge – cheeky bugger!  He knows that if I so much as even sway from my stated position, he will get his own way in the end!!

Good thing I had my clothes on when he and Marcia turned up on Sunday lunchtime with a young bull and left him in the yards to wean from his Mum.  Poor boy he lay in the very little shade all Sunday afternoon with tears streaming down his face.  But he runs away from both Phee and me so we can’t soothe him.  He has been very quiet and sad, with just some early morning roaring to remind us he is there.  I think Tinkerbell is befriending him and if we can only explain to him that he is not in hell as he thinks, but in heaven . . . there are over a hundred heifers on the other side of the property – actually maybe that is hell . . . one poor lone stud and a hundred strong harem – no wonder he’s crying!!

Whirlwind Romance . . . Love and Marriage!

by . Posted on
LOVE SIGN
24 Sep

For those of you who haven’t heard the news, here’s the official announcement. I’m getting MARRIED!!

I know it all seems very whirlwind romance, but as Ged says ‘it just feels so RIGHT’. It’s very real and practical and down to earth (it would have to be trying to build this house together!). He has been sure almost from the word go but I am the one who is commitment phobic and every step of the way I have palpitations. He actually asked me at the beginning of September and once I got over the shock I said ‘probably’ (so romantic!!) And then once I’d had a chance to process it all in my head and my heart and know that we have a good solid future together and what we have is strong enough to weather a life together, I said yes.

We kept it to ourselves because it was nice to have this special secret between us but last week we let the cat out of the bag so you can all share in our joy and start booking your flights etc!!

We are already beginning to understand how stressful planning a wedding can be because finding a date that you all agree on has been a nightmare and while I have had to forego my first choice in order to fit in with the UK delegation, and then had to abandon my second choice because of the Catholic contingent, but we have finally found a date that we are sticking with (3rd time lucky!) so set the date in your diaries now . . . . 15th MARCH 2008. Which Ged worked out is exactly a year to the day since we first met on the farm so that actually is perfect (he is such a romantic!)

Ged is already talking about just eloping in order to forego all the stress and fuss . . . But I have to have my big day (finally!)

I feel a bit like Miss Haversham, I’ve been sitting on the shelf in my wedding dress for so long! Time to dust down my frock and chase away the spiders . . . !

It’s a farm wedding and the weather should be perfect (about 70 degrees in the old money) so it’s pretty frocks for the girls and no morning suits for the men. Just light suits or nice shirts and pants (trousers for you poms!). Don’t worry about hats. I just want a relaxed gathering of our nearest and dearest for a real celebration of love in all its myriad guises – friends, family and lots and lots of children. Come for the weekend and enjoy the property and relax and celebrate with us . . . . official invitations to follow.

I’m so happy and content with this strong, safe, supportive man who loves me totally for who and what I am (no holds barred!) It all feels very natural. He’s nothing like anyone I’ve ever fallen for before, and with my track record, that’s a good thing. He’s a good, good man, with a big and generous heart and soul and he’s brave enough to take me on so that’s pretty impressive!!

He’s going to sell his place and we will make Avalon our home – it’s such a magical place. I can’t wait to share it with you all, so start making whatever plans you need to in order to be here for our special day.


MY LOVELY GED . . .

Ode to Tom Kitten

by . Posted on
17 Sep

While I was so sick and fighting fever demons in my bed that week of the raging temperature, someone else was sick and I had no idea. Tom has had a kidney infection before after a tick and it would appear that he was brewing another bout. By the time I was strong enough to stand and get around the house I noticed that he wasn’t himself and tick checked him and tried to ascertain what was wrong. No tick symptoms but he was definitely in pain so I resolved that when Ged got home (he had been up the coast doing a course for a long weekend) we would get him to a vet. I suppose I was so concerned with my own symptoms that I didn’t realise how ill Tom was or Tom, being Tom, just soldiered on, looking pretty normal, if a little subdued. When Ged came home we both examined him and resolved to take him to the vet the following day. I brought him in that night and put him in Phee’s basket by the fire to make sure he was warm (the nights are still cold) and he stretched out and looked quite all right. I woke up in the middle of the night to go to the loo and checked on him but he was long gone. My poor boy. He was the most amazing cat right from the word go when Phee adopted him at Tamworth. Phee was determined to have his little friend even though I was completely resistant. Tom won my heart though with his love for Phee and he let Phee drag him around by the head and play with him ad nauseam. They were true brothers. And for Tom, we were his family. Phee and I were his. Wherever we went he wanted to come too. He has come on countless runs with us – even as far as Flat Rock and back and it was always lovely to come home and know he was there. Wherever we had been, he was the heart and the hearthfire of our home. He used to lick those he loved (which could be a painful experience with that raspy tongue) and he was incredibly beautiful. True green eyes and the bushiest tail anyone has ever espied on a cat (maybe he was part possum). He was the hairiest cat I have ever seen. He had the softest, most beautiful nose and delicate little paws and he was a great ‘watcher’ from wherever he had picked for his day’s rest. He was an excellent mouser and it is true that he loved to kill birds but he knew he wasn’t allowed and used to try and restrain himself accordingly. Both times we moved he was just loose in the car with Phee and would get out and have a wee with Phee when we stopped and then pile back in the car for the rest of the way. He always came when he was called, wherever we were, because he knew he belonged with us. It took him a long time to settle in at Avalon. All those men and disruption and none of his furniture to claim and rest on. But he had finally settled in, had decided to love Ged and there seemed to be no good reason for him to leave us.

He has left a huge whole for such a little man. It’s horrible coming home to an empty house. Phee is lost without his best friend to rouse when he wants to play or chat, and when we come home there’s no-one to tell all about his adventures. He was such a joy – a low maintenance constant on my bed, in our lives, moulting all over the furniture. And he and Phee would curl up together wherever, they just loved each other so much. I can’t really believe he’s gone. It was so totally unexpected. He was only 3. Just a baby. I feel so guilty that I din’t get him to a vet earlier, but guilt is a useless emotion and will not bring him back. Ged dug a huge hole by the house and I put him in there with part of the wool rug he loved so much. I have planted a baby bottlebrush over him to attract the birds which he would like.

I am so tempted to try and replace him but I honestly think he is irreplaceable. The bond he had with Phee couldn’t be recreated. It was a truly unique relationship and no-one who ever saw them playing together will forget the miracle that they presented and the laughter they engendered with their bizarre antics. Plus a cat in the country like this is a bad idea for the birds. So we will have to save up for a girlfriend for Phee and we will have to learn to live without him. He was a loyal, loving and true friend and we are so sad that he is gone.

I wish him happy hunting grounds and friends as dear to him as we were. He was very special and totally unique. He won over even the most hardened cat haters. I hope he can forgive me for not taking care of him better and that he rests in peace and joy.


THE VERY BEAUTIFUL AND SPECIAL TOM CAT.  MAY HE REST  IN PEACE.

The ‘C’ word . . . Commitment!

by . Posted on
10 Sep

I have had lots of queries from you all about Ged so I suppose I’d better come clean.  He’s 38, 5’10, blue eyes and a reasonable head of hair except the Prince Charles bald spot at the back (but he is definitely going to look like Phil before long).  He is incredibly kind and sweet and loving and for some strange reason thinks that the sun shines out of my a**se (which, considering he works in the solar industry, is a real worry!)  He loves Phee and Tom and the horses and copes well with all their unique foibles – Phee trying to shag him, Tom regurgitating fur balls with monotonous regularity at the moment, and Tinkerbell using every wile and cunning at her disposal to break into the feed (again!)  Good thing I have one perfect Baby . . .

He has forsaken his Aussie meat pie and three dead animals a day diet and completely embraced my limited one.  He says he doesn’t miss the meat, wants to learn to cook the stuff I cook and has lost weight and is looking better for the shift. At this point my Mother will be screaming ‘quick, don’t let him get away!’ and quite possibly getting straight off a plane from The Rockies and on a Roo bound for Down Under so she can chivy things along!!

He’s completely house trained – does the washing up, washing, pegging clothes on the line etc.  He’s also a builder which is a bloody good thing at the moment and a farm boy which means that none of the realities of life on the land worry him one iota.  In fact he has 400 acres just up the road.  We met when he quoted me for the upgrade of the solar system here and during the long process of the purchase we talked regularly on the phone.

He doesn’t seem fazed by any of my foibles (burping, farting, scratching and snoring!).  Someone revive my Mummy!

He wants the 4 C’s – commitment, chaplain, children and did I mention commitment?  Now that’s one C word that I have an exceptional amount of difficulty with so I have been running around in ever increasing circles looking for a way out because it all seems too much, too soon, too unexpected.  And, of course, having been single for so long, I am used to my own company, my own space, the solitary silence that I share with the animals and nature and the peace of the solo sleeper in the double bed . . .

Am I too old and entrenched in my ways to make room for someone who looks after me so thoroughly?  Or do I just need to keep running a little longer til I realise that there’s nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, and that what’s good enough for the rest of the planet might just suit me too?

Luckily Ged (short for Gerard) is patience personifed because we all know I’m not!  In some ways we are very alike but I guess in the important things we are polar opposites.  He knows I’m a complete worry mutton, and he doesn’t (apparently I look very peaceful when I’m sleeping!)  He knows I always have a plan and normally just fits in with it .  He doesn’t drink very often (like me he had a battle with the bottle and can take it or leave it) he doesn’t smoke although he once did so snap there.  He’s also a Gemini which scares me witless and two generations back his family on both sides came from The Emerald Isle (Catholic) . . . .  smelling salts for my Daddy!

He insisted on taking me to meet his family this week which was pretty terrifying.  His father is a blue eyed farmer whose family came from Kangaroo Valley so he great tales to tell and we had mutual acquaintances to discuss.  His mother is a much harder nut to crack – wary, suspicious and assessing so I might have to get a spade and dig deep there if this goes the distance.  Mind you she reads Maeve Binchy and Dick Francis just like me so the heart beats true!  And she’s got the complete works of Banjo Patterson so I will need that spade after all . . .

Running, running scared . . . . . .