Category Archives: Farm Life

George is MIA

by . Posted on
01 Sep

It’s the end of an era at Avalon . . .

George has been missing in action for months, (ever since the wedding!) occasionally spotted with faithful horse and hounds, driving the cattle hither and yon, but no sign of him on his tractor, shaping the farm for the future.  Direct questions about the possibility of coming back to work have met with evasive answers and we have been bamboozled as to what happened to our man on the spot, Mr Foster!
Getting some of the most pressing chores completed has been a stressful exercise in constant nagging – something I have a degree in, but I like to save my efforts for my husband!!
And we have been worried about him – he hasn’t seemed the same, has been tired and depressed and whereas he always used to tell us his troubles so we could share the burden, he has been silent and morose.  Careful investigation has revealed that his son’s wife is now dying of the cancer she has been undergoing chemo for, and Marcia, George’s wife, has taken to her bed in the old people’s home in Wauchope and is going downhill fast . . . It seems that George has enough stress in his life without me on his back!  So we have agreed to go our separate ways and George has taken all his cattle off and paid us for the agistment he owed.  Now we can give the land a good rest ( we have been very overstocked and this dry winter has left us pretty bare and barren) before starting our own herd sometime in 2009.
We have been discussing other agistment options etc but the trouble is that no cattle owner will take good long-term care of your land – they want the short term gain of maximum dollar for their pound of beef, so we have decided to do our own thing – build a herd very slowly while we shape the land to suit it – clearing the weeds and seeding the pasture so the farm can carry its stock comfortably, whatever the weather throws at us.
We’ll have to get a tractor next year and then I can learn to drive it (only on the easy, flat bits)!  In another 12 or so years before Ben can pick up the mantle . . . .
Scottie and Ged had another day clearing Ged’s shed on Saturday so that is finally all over bar the shouting.  I have cleaned out the linen cupboard and we spent all day yesterday clearing our office out of the Baby’s room.  I am now esconced in the laundry above the washing machine and the nappy buckets and Ged is perched around the corner temporarily, so this week’s big job is preparing the baby’s room.  We have also been having a giant cookathon – filling the freezer with soups and bean stews so we can really relax and enjoy the new addition when he/she finally arrives.
So much for being feet up on the couch with a joey in my pouch . . . chance would be a fine thing!!

Queen Bee & the Workers

by . Posted on
28 Jul

The boys are back in town!  Scottie bought a mate up with him for a couple of days this week as Gary couldn’t make it and Bill the painter has been here stripping the external windows right back and priming etc.  So Avalon is a hive of activity and the Queen Bee is happy!!

Talking of bees, we have ordered a hive for the Spring from a local Bee Farm as we have both always wanted to have our own bees and honey.  Have also ordered a ‘Starting with Bees’ book from our friends at River Cottage, and have asked the local apiarists who are setting us up to teach us everything they know – should be fun!
We are ever more like the Ark – two crazy cows, two hefty horses, two delinquent ducks, two house animals (Phee and Mischa) and ok, ok, FIVE hens.  But there’s not much you can do with only two eggs a day.  The ducks really have been a special needs case since the drowning of their two brethren (they had climbed into the chook’s water bowl and then drowned in too much water when they were little).  They spent weeks and weeks refusing to come out of their little shed and we had to tempt them into water with ever bigger troughs equipped with standing stones and log and plank ramps etc, and when we threw them in the river they ran back home as fast as their little waddling legs could carry them!
We were slightly despairing that they might every become normal and then the other night we had a lot of rain and decided to take the cars out to be on the safe side and Ged wheeled me across on the flying fox first (and let me tell you, you know you’re very pregnant when manouevring yourself in THAT confined space!).  I had the torch and played the beam out over the river to guage the rising tide and what did I see but two white ducks paddling around in the pitch black . . . I told you they were special!!
Scottie makes the missus happy!

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 . . . .

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!!)

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

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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!!

The First Flood

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27 Aug

The first flood!

First it spitter spattered, and then it poured . . . and poured . . . and poured! Monday night saw me hauling the water pump out of the path of the rising tide by car light as the deluge continued (amazing how much strength the fear of flood pumps to muscles more accustomed to mouse than manpower . . . )

By Tuesday I was completely marooned. Funny, I had always dreamed of living on an island, and now I do! The water came up somewhere between 9 and 10 feet overnight. We had about 6 inches of rain over three days across a wide catchment area and most of it ended up in my river! Even Angle Creek was a raging torrent so the only way out or in was to be winched across on the Flying Fox. I braved it on Wednesday when the water was much lower and Ged delivered necessary supplies from the supermarket and the mail (!) but other than that it was just me and the radio, a few paintbrushes, two cans of gloss and a helluva lot of woodwork!

I have been forced over to Radio National as I can’t seem to get the ABC here. I was very resistant at first but the quality, intelligence and relevance of the programmes have won my heart! Very often they are consumed with debate about complex spiritual or philosophical tussles and I love it! My other great love is Classic FM. We are so lucky here to have advertisement free Classical music which isn’t trying to explore the nether reaches of the Classical genre (Radio 3!) but is a good mix of all the greats with avant garde noise only occasionally!

I have also been re-reading Daddy’s book. I am ashamed to admit that ten years ago I had lent my personalised copy to an Aussie Army friend, who disappeared to Darwin with it, never to be seen or heard from again. So I have tracked down a copy courtesy of my trusty friend Google and have been taking advantage of the grey and gloomy skies to meander through his Tour. With the benefit of age, and one would hope a little wisdom, it sheds light not only on the man and his integrity, but the stress my parents were under through that halcyon summer of 1976, and how very alike father and daughter really are!

It seems that only the dates and the places and the people have changed, the conflicts continue somewhere, somehow, somewhy . . .

Last week when I was out and about in Wauchope and scanning the charity shops for a costume to wear to a ‘gangsters and molls’ 40th next weekend, I found a lovely pair of wing back chairs with matching sofa for $80 so I snapped them up and hustled them into Port and the upholsterer. Hopefully by Christmas I will have them home (will I have a home by then??)

Saturday saw Ged and myself barrow loading river rocks onto the end of the causeway to fill in the gouge left by the raging torrent, so he could get in (having recovered from this foul flu that has been doing the rounds, and killing more than it cured. . . ). Then we took his ‘n’ hers chainsaws over to ‘the other side’ so I could have a supervised lesson and we could cut some much needed firewood. Man, it’s heavy!! Then we sourced the spring that I was convinced was feeding my beautiful dam so that was very exciting and I now have plans for further dams in that area. Between George and Ged and their ongoing education of the female city slicker, I will become a farmer yet!

Sunday has been a full on day of activity as the linen cupboard was finished off with beading and its newly painted doors returned to it. The final touches making the pantry perfect, the new front door cut down to size ready for my painting and a huge number of tobacco trees and lantana pulled out of the Angle Creek Bridge area. Ged has taken the week off work to put some serious effort into making a difference here and at least I know that whatever I pay him is money well spent as he is even more of a perfectionist than any of the Mortons!

And I am the one exhorting less bloody perfection and more bloody speed!