It is exactly two months or eight weeks or 61 days, 1464 hours, 87,840 minutes or 5,270,400 seconds since we returned home from our holiday adventure to the U.K. Exactly the same period of time we spent touring around and living the proverbial dream. Returning home, exhausted from the long-haul flight we spent the night in Melbourne, barely slept before being picked up by family for the final drive to the farm.
Tonight, I am sitting here, reflecting and wishing we were wandering around the Scottish Highlands, even though I suspect it would be rather chilly. Instead we are slowly preparing for our kitchen renovation, set for the first week in November, along with a laundry rebuild, painting and reflooring of the west end of the house. The cupboards, stove, sinks and fittings have been selected, most purchased before our trip to ensure we were ready to go. Paint options are still up for discussion as are splash backs, fan styles and floor colours. Keeping in the theme of renovations and repairs, the beach van continues to get a facelift and it is quickly becoming a place of choice, drawing me to the ocean air and sandy shores; washing away the gradual build-up of melancholy and confliction which continues to cover me, like a fine mist, that I don’t notice until my clothes are damp. The van is slowly, with the help of friends, transforming into a place of solace, rest and rejuvenation. One of my good decisions.
One of our not so good decisions however, recently included running cattle through the yards in strong winds. Behaving a little crazy, we noticed their heightened behaviour as we herded them into the cattle yards. They kicked and yahooed, bovine style, eventually conceding defeat as we shut the gate behind the last one. Unfortunately, our dramas did not end there. After dealing with infected injections sites, squeezing puss from swollen lumps and repeatedly avoiding slamming the crush bar into my face, the worse was still to come. The guttural scream emitted from Daryl as he was slammed against the steel fence by one of our Angus cows, weighing approximately 500 kgs. sent shivers down my spine and I felt the tightening of my heart, for a brief, eternal moment, as I expected the worse. Relieved to see he had been released by the quick thinking of our friend Zac, Daryl was scarred but not permanently damaged. I realised at that I had lost my courage, for working stock and fear instead, had set in. Previously, in Daryl’s absence I had started trying to funnel the herd into the race, each time they turned I was acutely aware of my own frailty, I knew I couldn’t get out of the way quick enough, I can no longer jump onto the yard railings to escape their hard heads, or side step a quick strike from their back legs as they refuse to walk down towards the crush. Despite my large length of poly-pipe I was stuck and fearful for my safety. Redundant really, at least, as a farmer of cows.
Perception is without doubt a powerful potent.
The paddocks are green, at least from a distance, they look lush but as we walk through them, it is evident the drought is not over and the patches of dirt unable to produce a blade of grass remind us of the effects of the dry. Funnily the morass is flooded and the mosquitoes are in a frenzied space. No amount of repellent will keep the critters away, leaving us with welts to thank us for venturing out. The snakes are also on the move and I suspect we shall see more of them as the temperatures rise.
On a brighter note, we have replenished our flock of hens and it is most enjoyable to have them run to us and say hello anytime we go into their pen. Slowly the egg count is building and we look forward to sharing our lovely produce with family, friends and acquaintances.
It’s now the start of Spring and I have celebrated another birthday, we have well and truly settled back into normality and the frustrations and joys of our daily lives fill each moment. The bees survived winter and they are busily filling their hive with pollen and making sweet nectar for us to collect in due course. The fruit trees that survived the bitter frosts are now in bud, although it appears we have lost two more and all our citrus. Our tractor is fixed and our All-Terrain Vehicle has been given a thorough check up. The motorbike is still temperamental and only works with a lot of help, but the ride-on mower is at least now working again after tire issues. We have purchased a run around car and the old Ford ute now rests in the hayshed, used only for farm functions. The increasing cost of fuel was a driving factor to change the way we commute.
Until next time,
N
