The Oven Saga

by . Posted on
16 Jun

Well, the never-ending saga here seems to be the oven.  I was so excited when we finally installed my new oven in my sparkling new kitchen a week or so before the wedding.  But everyone involved in the baking of the blueberry tarts for the wedding feast (Jane, Marcel, Shirley and me) soon discovered that the bugger didn’t work!  Whether it was a faulty item or whether it was the solar system that it didn’t like, the truth is that we have had endless toing and froing with the manufacturer and reseller since we got back from honeymoon.  The thing is that gas ovens aren’t just  gas – no, no, they have electric fans, electronic ignition, electronic thermostats and every other bell and whistle you can possibly imagine which consume megawatts of electricity – presumably all designed hand in hand with the fossil fuel companies to keep us raping the planet, guzzling mindlessly and pouring megatons of carbon into the atmosphere . . . (really, don’t get me started!!)

Anyway, I had to go into full battle mode but FINALLY the people who sold us the stove – ‘The Good Guys’ agreed to give us a full refund plus $500 for my pains!!  And then I went online searching, searching, searching for a replacement.  I thought I found the answer to my prayers in Queensland so bought it and had it shipped down here.  Picked it up from TNT in Port Macquarie with great excitement (baked potatoes at last!) but when we got it home and unpacked the pathetic wrappings it had clearly been dropped and the front glass was shattered into smithereens.  Oh well, back to the drawing board.  As it turned out the bloody thing had an element which lit the gas – which drained even more power from the system so I am stymied once more.
We have been wracking our brains and the closest we have come to some sort of solution is a camping oven – all gas, piezo ignition, but the trouble is, they only have a 30L capacity (tiny) and we want 80L.  Any ideas, my brilliant friends, as we now have a gaping hole in the kitchen and my baked potato craving gets stronger by the day . . .

The Roaring River and Whales

by . Posted on
09 Jun

We’ve been marooned again!

My neighbour, local weather guru, and early warning system, Pat Henry, rang at the weekend to warn of us of a major rain belt heading south from Tropical Queensland so we were on the alert (Pat is spot on with her predictions!).  So when I did my 3am wee on Monday night and it was raining I poked my better half awake to remind him that he had his car this side and not to blame me if he was flood bound in the morning.  He wasn’t, but by the end of that day after relentless rain all day, it was obvious that the river was on the up.  I left my car in Wauchope because it didn’t feel safe aquaplaning on my barely there tyres and got a lift home with George and we just made it in across the creeks.  Needless to say, Ged left his car out on Tuesday night and we woke to the roaring of the river on Wednesday morning – 12 feet below the last one but still a very sizeable flood.  So we played ‘marooned’ all day, cutting a swathe through our respective paperwork in the office and when it came time to feed Ged’s horses on ‘the other side’ the pregnant lady set off, with faithful hound at heel, to walk with two full feed buckets the 2.5kms to find the horses.   Went for a brisk trot around the track (pregnant lady on foot!) and then walked back with four empty feed buckets.  Long, long way!!
It was Ged’s birthday on Thursday so I gave him the day off work (!!) and booked us on a Whale Watching Tour  at 8am out of Port Macquarie, so we had an early start.  There was lots of hanging around scanning the sea for signs of life, and several sightings of pods blowing and breaching, but still not close enough for a real sense of the magnificence of the beasts, so I adopted my positive thinking and stood at the bow thinking ‘I see whales close to the boat’ for well over an hour.  Sure enough, just as we were about to turn for shore, we had a ‘close encounter’ with 3 humpback whales right under our noses at the bow and I had my first real whale sighting.  Wow!  Imagine if we had all been practising positive thinking . . . .
Ged has had amazing up close and personal whale experiences at Hervey Bay so he wasn’t as excited as me, but we had a lovely day with a warm-up breakfast in Port and then lots of clothes shopping to update his wardrobe (and a few things for me, too, since nothing seems to fit me anymore!)  On Friday I was able to pick up my car with its all new wheels (lovely!) and drive across the bridge again so we have spent the weekend in the garden planting bluebells and snowdrops, drastically pruning the roses over the septic, and relocating trees (again!)
We have had the list of suitable species from the Catchment Management Authority and have a visual plan of what to plant along the river banks to protect the banks and create a haven for birds and even koalas – it turns out that those bloody She Oaks (Casuarinas) are not even meant to be in this part of the Hastings valley Catchment Area – so we are completely justified in our plan to chop them down!  It’s very nice when our vision actually coincides with that of the Government and the Greenies (Melissa will be proud of us!)
Still waiting for Paddy to pop  . . . !

Pregnancy, homebirth and Solar

by . Posted on
02 Jun

Thank you for all your input into the birth debate . . . especially those of you who sent your support, beautiful stories of blissful drug-free births.  We have carefully considered all your arguments and will make an informed and educated choice closer to the time, in consultation with our midwife and antenatal care clinic.  We will let you know what happened after the fact!

Phew!
The bump is growing daily and I am now firmly entrenched in those ‘oh my god I wouldn’t be seen dead in those’ maternity jeans and they are SO comfortable!  I am also wearing Ged’s boxers and tees around the house and he is constantly complaining of the shortage of supplies for his own use!  My hair is growing at a ridiculous rate of knots and depilation is a daily occurrence – what a bore!
We have finally settled the sale of Ged’s property so we are just clearing out the detritus of his life  – how depressing!  Meanwhile he has been getting lots of calls from a double page spread article I wrote explaining Australian Solar /alternative energy solutions for the two biggest circulation glossy magazines on the Mid North Coast.  Of course, immediately after that came out the new Rudd Government announced its new budget – blatantly reneging on its election promise to make a positive commitment to climate change by withdrawing solar rebates from households earning more than $100,000 (gross)  per annum.  With the average city home at somewhere between $400,000 and $500,000, petrol at $1.80 a litre and spralling grocery bills (due to the rising price of petrol) $100,000 is not a lot in this day and age.  To add insult to injury the new means test is $100,000 for solar, but levied at $150,000 for the ‘Baby Bonus’ (yes the Aussie Government will be paying me $5,000 in September for doing my bit for Queen and country!!) and the Family Allowance.  So they are actively cracking down on intelligent Australians committed to acting on Climate Change. And the bit that really sticks in my craw is . . . we voted for them!  Never again!
We have an update article going in the July issue and I seem to be getting articles printed regularly with them which is nice.  The means test isn’t as big an issue for ged as it is for the city solar installers who are losing thousands of dollars worth of orders a day, but it is a blow for the whole industry so we are actively campaigning with his colleagues and cohorts to get this ridiculous ruling overturned.  Please sign any petitions we send you – this is important not just for our bank balance, but the future of solar in Australia.
We had a very entertaining afternoon first finding the cows on ‘the other side’ (they had all gone ‘bush’) and then pursuading the heavily pregnant Paddy and amiable and obedient Daisy to follow us into the yards so we could get them moved over to the house side for maternity watch.  After much wild leaping through scrub for Ged and determined plodding for me we managed to lock them in and George came and trucked them over before first light on Sunday morning.  Paddy has been named after my Mother, the Matriarch, as she will be the first of our cows to calf down on the farm.  We are now feeding them daily and regularly palpating the udder for telltale indicators of imminent birth . . .  no sign, so far!
At the other end of the scale, Mischa has been in hospital having all her girly bits removed and was very well behaved – here she is, showing off her scar!

The Homebirth debate

by . Posted on
26 May
Welcome to the Birth Debate!
This is really fascinating . . .
I had always known that if ever I got pregnant I would want a water birth at home.  When I turned 40, although childbearing had never been a high priority for me, I grieved the loss of the opportunity, the experience, and the nurturing of a child.  And then I met Ged and moved here and we talked about babies and agreed ‘if it happens, it happens, if it doesn’t,it doesn’t.’  No IVF or similar for me.  We agreed to commit to acupuncture as the most invasive treatment I was ever likely to undertake and lo and behold I got pregnant.
Right from the start, we discussed, and agreed upon (among many other decisions) a home, water birth.  Those of you who know me well know I am a true water baby!  I can sit in the bath quite happily for 6 – 8 hours with a book.  It is my natural space for healing, meditation, nurturing and relaxation.  And I have hated the medical profession in all its guises since I was about 4 when I impaled myself on a rock, splitting my thigh from arse to knee and was shuttled between GP and hospital as each claimed the other’s responsibility for stitching.  The end result was no stitches, excruciating daily dressing changes and instead of a small neat stitch line, I have a hideous welt down my otherwise perfect thigh!!
And then there was the time I broke my arm and walked several miles to the hospital only to have the registrar, when I gingerly laid it on the desk in front of her, say ‘let’s have a look’ and wrench it towards her . . . and the nurse who couldn’t find my pulse . . . and on and on and on.
I have no time or respect for the medical profession.  Sure if I break my leg or have internal injuries, take me to Casualty, but otherwise let me be.  The only drugs I ever liked were illegal ones, and after I cured myself of that addiction, I haven’t so much as taken an aspirin for over 15 years (even when I broke my ankle!).  So why would I subject myself to the snip, snip, stick a needle in style of allopathic medicine when my body is healthy, well and fulfilling its biological compunction?
Surely the very fact that I am pregnant at 42 (when the medical profession says it can’t be done!) shows that the road less travelled that I have chosen is the healthier option, and the right one for  me.
And yet friends and family are throwing their hands up in horror at the idea of my even contemplating a home birth.  And stamping their feet and saying ‘you can’t!’
What, like I couldn’t pack up and leave London and live and work in Hong Kong for a year aged 21?  Like I couldn’t just up sticks and head to Australia for a working holiday aged 22?  Like I couldn’t get my residency on the grounds of my de facto relationship?  Like I couldn’t stay in Australia for ten years away from my family and friends?  Like giving up alcohol and smoking and being a vegan? Like I couldn’t run the London and New York Marathons one after another? Like I couldn’t ship two horses and a dog and myself back to Australia after a six year sojourn in Blighty?  Like I couldn’t change my name and attract love into my life?  Like I couldn’t buy and make work this farm?
JUST WATCH ME!!
Some people call me brave . . . others call me stupid, but I have never done the accepted thing.  I have always picked my own path and followed it unwaveringly.  My beliefs,  my heart, my passion are so strong that they have overcome all number of seemingly insurmountable obstacles.  I don’t spend my time looking at all the reasons why ‘I can’t’, I just set my heart on something, nail it in my sights, and worry away at it, like a dog with a bone, til I get where I want to be.  I write down my dreams and the universe crafts itself to create them for me.  And there’s no surer way in the world to put the wind beneath my wings and get me to achieve the impossible, than to sit on the sidelines and say ‘you can’t’.
Did you know that 90% of births in Holland are carried out at home?  And the Dutch have the lowest rates of infant and maternal mortality anywhere in the world?  The largest study of homebirths attended by Certified Professional Midwives, as published in the British Medical Journal, has found that homebirth is safe for low risk women and involves far fewer interventions than similar births in hospitals.

If the drugs are there and being pushed upon you, you’ll take them (why wouldn’t you?)  If I still lived with a drug dealer, I’d still be taking drugs . . . It’s like living in the country, if I start craving something we don’t have in the pantry, I make do with something else!  And doctors and obstetricians are scared of being sued and most of them are men and they can’t bear standing by and watching a woman – an all powerful, all-knowing Goddess creating and birthing a miracle all by themselves.  They can’t wait for nature to take its natural course, they want to interfere (of course they want any excuse to play with your fanny!) and wrest back the power and assert their will over yours.

This debate is so primitive because it is really all about the fact that women are the creators, the nurturers, the teachers, the wise planters and harvesters.  we are the ones who are in tune with nature and her rhythms and her tides and ebbs and flows.  We are the ones who give life.  We are the ones who seek and speak to spirit, we are the ones who hear the song of the soul in the symphonies of the circles of life.  We are there at the beginning, and it is we who are strong and soothe at the end, and for  every passage of time and ceremony in between it is women who mark the occasions.  We are the priestesses with the knowledge of the ancients imbued in our cells and souls and we can call down the heavens to bless, or draw up the fires of hell in our curses.

And so they have tried to keep us down.  To control us, to beat us into submission, to disempower our souls with their talk of Eden and temptation and original sin and they have tried to curse us as the harbingers of all that is evil in the world.  Why?  Because they are afraid of this power that we have to make them strong, or render them weak, to hurt them or to heal them.  Instead of honouring our power and wisdom and inimitable strength they have sought to cut us down at every turn.  And if we are strong, if we are powerful they call us ‘bitches’, ‘lesbians’ and the like.

Why can’t we embrace who we are as women and OWN ourselves, our mystery and our magic.  We might not succeed, but at least we can give it our best shot.  And that’s what I’ll be doing, at home, in September, being the best I can be.  being a natural woman.  Embracing the birth process.  Setting fear aside and rolling with whatever I am sent, sure in my heart that my baby and my body know how to birth safely, peacefully, naturally so that birth is a primitive process of bonding with just Ged, me and baby and a midwife to harness our strength, direct our energies, and uplift us when our resolve is weak.

There is a chance that ‘I can’t’ but, by God, like everything else in my life, I will give it everything I’ve got.  And I’m willing to bet that I CAN!

Thanks to my lovely sister MEL for my fabulous new maternity jeans xx

Modern Miracles and Moving Office

by . Posted on
12 May

We have witnessed, and are in the middle of a miracle!

The nice man from Timbertown Computers came on Wednesday and installed Satellite Broadband, so via the miracle of modern technology I can now talk to you from home.  No more traipsing up the ever more perilous goat track to Comboyne.  No more $100 a week in petrol.  No more boring 40 minute journeys at the end of each working day  I’ve waited almost a year for this day to arrive and it is BLISS!  OK, it’s quite a bit slower to surf the net than you city folk are used to . . . but out here in the boonies we are down on our knees with gratitude to have internet access at all!
We started off with the desks in the sitting room as I was precious about invading the baby’s room and wanted to preserve its sacred space for her.  But we had people for lunch on Sunday and in the grand spring clean I determined that, since Gary is booked to come up in June and build the office, we could camp in Harmony’s room for a month or so.
We had our gorgeous Canadian Acupuncturist and her pommy husband for lunch which was a nice change.  We cracked open some of the wedding champagne and lubricated them well, before feeding them with my famous chilli olives, hommous and warm bread; pepper steak and crisp green salad; and, of course, the now infamous blueberry tart for desert!  Yes, we still have plenty of blueberries in the freezer . . . .!
Chris is an agricultural consultant and we took them both for the walk around ‘the other side’ and he was very impressed with the scope, feel, and condition of the land and cattle.  He had some good tips for potential government funding etc.  His parents still farm 100 acres or so just near Bath.  Unfortunately the platypus was still in flood aftermath mode and has not been sticking to a regular timetable (probably busy rebuilding his home!) so we weren’t able to share that with them, but they had a good time and so did we!
The wonder of working from HOME (note Daddy’s little princess at pole position!)

White Ant invasion

by . Posted on
09 May

We have been scrubbing the Comboyne office (and there are those of you who know how much it needed it!!)  We have given away the fridge, toaster and microwave and packed up all the paraphernalia belonging to Ged’s brother and his business and are almost free and unfettered . . . we have exchanged on the sale of Ged’s 400 acre block and are now just awaiting settlement so it’s a good feeling for us both to be clearing out the detritus of his bachelor life and more fully embracing the life we have chosen together.  Needless to say, I won’t let him keep much!!

Meanwhile, down on the farm, we have discovered where the white ants went after we ejected them from my side of the shed where they were gnawing on the wooden mattress supports for one of my beds.  No, they haven’t gone up into the bush where there are thousands of felled trees they could nibble on to their little hearts’ content, they migrated instead to Ged’s shed and set up camp in the beautiful Tasmanian Oak flooring we had set aside for the office . . . they were obviously pretty bloody hungry, because there isn’t much left!
So Ged has been burning the equivalent of money as he sorts through the mess and I have been on the internet searching out sure-fire death to these pestilent perpetrators of wholesale wood massacre.  They’ve got 400 acres of wood out there – what’s so bloody tasty about my furniture???!!
Poor Shirley and Marcel have recently discovered White Ant in their Guest Annexe so both Marcel and I have been investigating options.  He is Sherlock Holmes, I am Watson.  He has gone down the pest man route, to the detriment of his bank balance.  We are still looking for solutions which go back to the nest and kill the queen, because we need an on-going long-term solution.
We are avidly watching the second series of The West Wing on DVD (which Neil and Jane lent us) and I am simultaneously reading ‘A Woman In Charge’ – Carl Bernstein’s balanced portrayal of Hillary Clinton.  Since The West Wing is based on the Clinton era I found factual events and actions on which the plots were based as I read on.  I found the book absolutely fascinating.  Highly recommended to anyone who lived through, and wondered about, the Clinton history, marriage, Whitewater and all those women . . . I’m not sure whether to be sad or relieved that she’s been sidelined by Obama.  The feminist in me wants a woman in the White House very badly.  But Hillary – I’m not so sure.
I am loving being at home more, revelling in the beauty of this idyllic spot, and most definitely nesting . . .
Return of the platypus . . .

Real Rural Aussie Expats

by . Posted on
05 May

I went to an initial Pilates session to see if I liked it.  Mainly the woman just talked to me about being pregnant, but then we did eventually get down and do some floor work.  I didn’t really understand what I was  doing or why, and it didn’t feel like much at the time, but I sure felt the pain in the morning!  Still, she didn’t give me a programme to do, or a sense of what I was trying to achieve and I definitely didn’t feel like I’d done any sort of workout (you know me, I come from the ‘no pain, no gain’ Jane Fonda style of exercise) . . . think I’ll stick to yoga, thank you very much, so have been harassing poor Rosie for a pregnancy regime.

On Friday I made the long drive up to Ballina on the Far North Coast to spend the weekend with a client, finally meeting her and her husband, attending, assessing and addressing a two day course of hers to  forge a plan of action for the future.  7 hours door to door was a bore but thank God for my little Tom Tom sat nav which warned me about all the speed cameras, told me how far away I was so we could all plan accordingly, and generally got me there safe and sound and in one piece.  Angela Davison (www.thehorseherbalist.com) lives on a 100 acre bush block in true ageing hippy style (despite the fact that she is a down-to-earth pragmatist of the northern England variety!).  She lives in a hexagonal home made of mud brick and 200 year old timbers from the old whaling station at Byron Bay.  The loo is an outdoor long drop, and rainwater rationing is very strict.  Four huge dogs in the house give off that distinctive odour, but there are some gorgeous antiques and at least I was allowed to just wee on the lawn for my hourly nocturnal antics.
It was FREEZING!!  These are people who don’t believe in closing doors and like to live an outside/inside life.  But I was amazed to find that their solar system supported electric blankets (just wait til I tell my husband!) and so as well as loading my bed with every blanket in the house, I had the hitherto unheard of comfort of getting into a toasty warm bed at night – lovely!  Actually, I have been sleeping really badly recently – what with all the visits to the loo and the electric dreams, so on the Saturday night Angela dosed me up with some of her proprietary ‘Settle Petal’ and at last I started to relax.  On Sunday night I slept properly for the first time since we came back from honeymoon, and in the morning my belly had popped out!!  Bizarre!  I went to bed looking like me, and woke up pregnant!
The course was interesting but poor Angela had the full critique on Saturday night, and was chagrined when her husband (who had been filming it) agreed with all my comments (and up til now he has resented my control over her business life!).  Never mind, she’s tough, and while I was snoring my way through the night she was thinking it all through!  Sunday was much better and on Monday we had the day in the office to organise all her email marketing, computer filing, and assess product packaging etc.  On Tuesday morning we wrapped up the outstandings and I left for a speedy visit to Byron Bay to check out a teepee manufacturer and the very lovely www.natureschild.com.au where they have all the organic nappies and essential paraphernalia little miss is apparently going to need when she touches down on planet earth.
Then home, late and weary to a newly sanded and varnished sitting room,  kitchen and bathroom floors and both dog and husband ecstatic to see me.  How nice to come home to a warm house, a warm heart and a warm welcome . . . .
Angela and students on the Equine First Aid course . . .

The Big Flood

by . Posted on
28 Apr
Just call me NOAH!!
Although I haven’t done a very good job of rescuing animals.  Trying to save three stranded cows and calves, they jumped into the river rather than be herded into our place. And I had a platypus literally at my feet this morning, obviously washed out of its burrow by the raging torrent.  By the time I realised what it was and registered that it didn’t look happy, the river had swept it away.  Maybe next time I’ll just stay in the house and pray!
So the rain has continued all week to my utter disgust and despair.  We had a thoroughly wet and miserable day in Port Macquarie on Wednesday where I had my inaugural Pilates class, acupuncture and we went for our 18 week scan.   Normally we have the mst delightful, lovely and helpful of radiologists but this one was a cow and trying to extract information from her, let alone reassurance, was like pulling the proverbial teeth!  So we don’t know what sex the baby is, and with her attitude, I’m more worried now than I was before, so let’s hope I can get out to the doctor on Wednesday for hand holding, brow soothing and ‘there, there, dear’s’
On Thursday we woke late and despondent at yet more of the wet stuff cascading from the sky.  As I had refused to take my car up the now suicidal Tom’s Creek Road one more time this week, Ged had to wait for me and do my morning chores (feeding his horses, chooks etc) and by the time we were ready to go we could see that we had better be quick because the river was rising, the sky was ominous and the forecast for flash flooding and more.  All the creeks on the way up were very high, but just passable, so we weren’t long checking and replying to our emails, doing what we had to online etc before we packed up the computers and headed home.  We came down the other way to avoid the creek crossings and only just made it into our place before the bridge got really scary.  Ged dumped me and the gear and hared out again, leaving his car on the high side by the flying fox. (see it in the picture?)
And through our newly created amazing view from the kitchen window we witnessed the river rise first by inches, then by feet, while we were watching it.  From 3pm to 6pm it had risen 4 feet.  When I woke to go to the loo at 2am I heard the roar and went out to look.  It had risen another 5 or 6 foot and by 6am a further 4 or 5 feet.  Amazing!  The whole of the lower river paddock (the campground) was under water which covered the top of the fence both at the gate end and where the toilet used to be (before the flood!)  At the end of our river paddock (polo ground!) where there is normally a ten-15 foot steep bank there was just water lapping at the cutting’s edge.  The bridge at Angle Creek was sitting in banked up river water and there was only 6 inches of log left showing before that would be under.  At the concrete bridge (where I saw the Platypus) we were looking at 50 or 60 metres of water across between the banks and it was a raging, raging torrent.
The flats on the other side were well clear of water (we went to check our potential new home site to see how high and dry we would be) and were pleased to see that it was a very good Noah spot indeed.
And from about noon the waters have been receding just as rapidly.  But at 5pm when the rain started in earnest again, they started a slow ascent.  Apparently they had 10 inches of rain on Comboyne last night, compared to our 3.  Let’s see what tonight and tomorrow brings . . .
And as quickly as they rose, they have been receding, but we are now at the slow point – it will probably take almost a week for the river to get back down below the bridge again.  I am still marooned! And George will need to rearrange the river stones on the far side of the bridge before I can drive out as the raging torrent has significantly rearranged them.  Meanwhile, the sun has been shining all weekend and we have hope in our hearts again, at last.  I have been sanding back all the benchtops and varnishing them properly – they only got a quick lick and a spit before the wedding.  Ged has discovered white ant in his side of the shed happily chewing their way through all the tasmanian oak flooring for the office.  Oh God!
So he has been busy burning them and it and finding ways of foiling their concentrated campaign attacks on our belongings.  I am going up to Lismore to see a client this weekend and will be grilling her about her long battle against their relentless armies so hopefully when I get back next week we will have a plan . . . .

Chopping down and planting trees

by . Posted on
21 Apr

We are back into clearing and renovating mode!

We spent the weekend clearing out my side of the garage and putting up infrastructure in my side of the garage so I can sort out all my horsey stuff.  Order has been created out of chaos and it feels good!  Ged has started on his side, but it is a much bigger job, so watch this space for final resolution!
Of course, as soon as he gets started doing something for him, I come up with a plan that distracts him from his purpose in hand.  This weekend I decided to separate the wisteria from the peach tree – they have been intertwined for over about five years by the looks of things and while the peach is putting up a valiant fight, the  wisteria is slowly strangling it.  I started off with secateurs but soon gave up with those, got my handsaw out of the shed, but it was rusty, so I thought ‘bugger that’ and got out the trusty chainsaw!  Ged had to help and we now have a wisteria that we will train from scratch in the spring to embrace and decorate the house, a peach tree which might live up to its name, and then I had a brainwave . . . let’s cut down all the trees shielding the house from its view of the river, and making it dark and gloomy – so Ged got to work!
And what a miracle he has wrought!  We have a bird’s eye view of the river from the kitchen window and LIGHT and SPACE and AIR at that side of the house.  We have resolved to keep going and get rid of all the scrubby, dark trees on the bank below the house and replace them with lovely light robinias, liquid ambers, acers and more fruit trees.  We have also planted all the lovely Maples and Liquid Ambers Mummy and Daddy bought us for the wedding.  Three Liquid Ambers at the main gate (by the bridge) three in a semicircle around the tank (above the house), one Maple in the middle of the new Triangle fence (we have brought the Acer home to the house yard) and three Maples spaced along the edge of the big, main, river flat in front of the house (polo ground!)
And at least this weather is perfect for planting trees!
We have had more and further discussions about selling Ged’s place and finally came up with a way in which we could meet Michael’s offer.  If we strip it of all the infrastructure he has put on there over the last four years (shed with living, bathroom, kitchen, fire, loft, wiring, electrics, septic, water tank etc., etc.,) we can come down to his price.  More work for us, but at least we get the sale.  So we  offered him the deal and of course he said he wanted the shed and the water tank so we had to go into bat for a price for those.  The end result is that we finally struck a deal after much negotiating.  He gets a good deal, we strip everything out of the shed, bar the water tank, and we get a quick, cash sale, a weight off our minds, one less mortgage to pay in what looks to be a scary global financial future, enough to get the office built and a few more loose ends tied up before we buckle down to having a baby and relying on one real income.
So we’re all happy!  Not enough to get my new car out of the deal but a good feeling nonetheless . . . .
the new look love residence sans trees at left

New Feline Family Member

by . Posted on
14 Apr

Just when things were getting back to normal, Ged went up the road to look at some wiring and came back with a new member of the Love family!

She is young, calm, easy going and cuddly and to ease her into Phoenix’s existence, we are only having her during the day at the office so we can gauge his reactions and tolerance levels.  He hasn’t been either excited by her or antagonistic but since his stress levels are still pretty high after the comings and goings around the wedding and the trauma of 12 days in doggy prison, best to go slow and tread carefully.
I wasn’t particularly enamoured of her at first, although Ged seems to have fallen very hard.  But she’s growing on me, and wheedling her way into my affections, so I know resistance is futile!
But let’s face it, I loved Tom so much and while I have desperately wanted another cat, I am loathe to let anyone take his place in my affections.  I feel disloyal to his memory if I fall for this little Tiger.  But a house always feels so much more like a home when there’s a cat waiting there for you.
She hasn’t taken long to make friends of us all and sure enough she came home before the weekend . . . she’s pretty content with her new-found family and warm, cosy home.
The deluge has begun again.  Everyone keeps commenting that March was, indeed, a miracle!  We lay the credit at ‘the power of positive thinking’ – we were determined that it wouldn’t rain in March, we kept saying so, we decided to believe so, and our thought shaped our reality.  We also said we didn’t care what it did in April . . . now that was foolish!  My sunny resolve and relaxed mindset is giving way to Eeyore-like gloom as we face day after day after relentless day of torrential rain.
Of course, the other problem is that I haven’t got anything to WEAR!  I grew out of jeans and their ilk weeks ago, and my elasticated waisted summer pants are way too cold for the Comboyne climate so I am in mini-skirts, tights and boots (they must be the mini skirts from my fat days!) and I can’t see me squeezing into those for much more than a month!  I have taken to riffling through my wardrobe every morning and trying to put together creative, comfortable clothing solutions that don’t make me look like a fat frump!  I have been fashioning fashion from things that haven’t seen the light of day for 15 years!
It was much easier in Fiji where a sarong or sulu hid all lumps, bumps and burgeoning belly!  Oh well, as soon as we have made some moolah again I guess I can go shopping!
Mischa, making herself very much at home . . . .