For Sale

Our farm is on the open market. 

Each time I say it, my eyes fill with tears I refuse to shed. Yet, as I type this, I can’t see the screen clearly, as a few unruly tears escape. 

Selling the farm is breaking Daryl’s heart, therefore I break too. 

My parents bought the farm in 1974. I was four years old. I don’t remember moving in, but I remember the old house. It reminded me of a very old lady.  Grey, weathered and unkempt. Over 100 years old, she creaked anytime someone walked through the hallways, the floors were uneven as the foundations began to sink, wind swirled under the doorways well-worn from footsteps running in and out, and the windows were naked without coverings until my mother made some. They matched the god-awful wallpaper she hung on every crooked wall! But at least they added colour and kept the summer heat out. The combustion stove was lit 365 days a year as it heated the hot water system; stifling on the hot summer days is an understatement. There was no air-conditioning back then, not even a fan. Our front door was situated under the bullnosed verandah and was known as the formal entry – it was rarely used but did provide some respite from the sun and the perfect hiding place for the snakes. I always used the back door.

My mother bought the farm while dad was working off-shore – quite the surprise when he returned. 

She was like that. Impulsive, hot headed and determined. Together, they worked as if possessed to make the farm a success. They were eccentric and suspicious of most people, yet they poured everything they had into their land - money, sweat and raised voices.  My brother and I were the ‘apprentices’. 

The farm was as success, a well-oiled business, for many years. After much bickering, the new house was finally built, and I remember the process in intricate detail. We moved out from the old lady house and into our fresh new brick home. 

Fast forward. My parents have both passed on. The farm fell into disrepair following years of ill health for both my parents before Daryl and I bought the farm. After eight years, the property has been revived. The soulless brick house, I moved into when I was 12, is now a warm inviting home that has been renovated to bring joy and comfort. Its walls hold so many stories; memories it will harbour forever.

The farm has been totally rebuilt. It is low maintenance and if you take a walk down through the bushland it's magical. This is Daryl’s favourite place – the one he will miss the most.

The hard work has been done. And we are preparing to say goodbye. 

Our plan was to ‘retire’ from the farm when we got close to 60.

Our plan was to enjoy the low maintenance farm life for the next five years or so.

Our plan has been smashed into little, tiny pieces by cancer.

We now are making new plans. 

We are trying to see beyond our current circumstances.

We are working on moving forward.

We are not always very good at this, sometimes we just go backwards.

We get slammed but then we get back up and go again.

Selling the farm signifies so much in our little piece of the universe. 

Daryl fell in love with farming in a heartbeat; the moment I reluctantly agreed to go back. 

Daryl thrived amongst the gum trees, the summer haze, winter frosts, newborn calves, and tonnes of firewood.

Daryl found solace in his darkest days amongst the magic of the morass.

After 48 years of being a part of my family, I hope the new owners will embrace Rivergum and make it their own.

After 48 years it is hard to imagine this place will soon be part of our past. 

After 48 years I’m not sure how to say goodbye…but I suspect there may be a few tears.

Until next time,

N

Welcome To The Sh*tshow

Welcome to the shitshow…hope you brought alcohol!

We found this sign in a funky, gift shop on a recent trip to Healesville. 

We didn’t buy it, but we certainly related to it. 

“The shitshow” phrase has become our ‘go-to’ expression with every piece of news received during the past 10 months. 

10 months, can you believe it? 

10 months since the initial diagnosis that rocked our world. 

10 months since we stepped onto the cancer rollercoaster.

10 months ago, Daryl was 26kg heavier.

10 months ago, Daryl laughed a lot.

10 months ago, Daryl was a different man.

10 months ago, my future hopes faded into insignificance.

10 months ago, I found strength when I thought the well was dry.

10 months ago, the heartache was indescribable.

10 months ago, we expected the shitshow to be over soon.

Today, we are still the main characters of the show.

No intermission yet. The first scene is too long. 

Cut needs to be called. The Director cannot be found.

Although, I suspect we would sack the Director if we did connect.

Like every show, there are the main cast members and plenty of spectators. 

It’s been a learning curve working out who belongs in which dressing room. Who gets a speaking part and who doesn’t. Sometimes the cast members even change, finding their role too difficult so they move on to easier roles. This often leaves us perplexed, occasionally hurt, relieved at times. Surprisingly, new players appear. Thankfully the main crew have stuck with us, even when they can’t always understand us. Even when they don’t know how to help us. Even when we are at our ugliest and lowest.

How we love them in those moments. 

Today we find ourselves making lists.

These lists will shape our tomorrows.

Our tomorrows are unknown to us yet; they are dependent on the outcomes of tests and procedures.

These lists are filled with tasks that make up some of life’s major decisions:

Work, semi-retire, fully retire? 

How do you transition from full-throttle life mode, three jobs, plus fun on the side, to no job, illness, uncertainty?

Home?

How do you say goodbye to your family farm, one that you’ve loved and hated simultaneously, for more than 45 years?

Where will we live?

How will we live?

What about the animals?

How do you farewell the dreams you had; the projects started that will not be finished?

How do you get excited about a future you are not ready for? 

Daryl recently underwent surgery, unexpected, unwanted but necessary. 

Again, we wait to see what the beast brings. 

We wait for more results, more treatment, more what? 

We simply don’t know anymore - because the shitshow keeps going.

In ten months, we have done a lot of waiting.

In ten months, we have done a lot of hoping.

In ten months, we have shed a lot of tears.

In ten months, we have travelled a lot of kilometres.

In ten months, we have seen the inside of a lot of hotels.

In ten months, we have checked into Peter Mac too many times.

I never liked rollercoasters, even as a kid. 

As an adult, I like them even less.

Daryl loves rollercoasters, even as an adult with his young sons, he was keen to jump in and fly. 

But this one, this soul crushing rollercoaster, he despises.

Surely, it’s time for the shitshow to end.

Looking forward to the curtain call.

Until next time,

N

Feels Like Home

The soulful tunes of Norah Jones’s “Feels Like Home” is playing softly in the background on the antiquated CD player, a freshly poured glass of gin and tonic is pleasant company along with sounds of the ocean conversing with the sands situated just beyond the caravan park and with my feet up, seated outside the van, I am alone but certainly not lonely.

The gin is a Christmas gift from Daryl, purchased and then imported from England, it is a subtle reminder of good times in my recent memory. The beach, certainly the sounds emanating from its shore, fills me with a sense of belonging, peace and permission to indulge in the world of words whether it be through reading a novel or three or tapping away at my laptop as I am doing now. A perfect way to begin a brief sojourn from the real world. I am most fortunate and a little selfish, to be here. Daryl has just driven back towards the farm, with work commitments making his stay brief but I hope he would say enjoyable. Just the two of us, kids and friends were banned and we took 24 hours out of ordinary life. Later my longtime friend and her two young teens will arrive, tomorrow, my twin sons and daughter, with little people in tow, will join me and the van will be full of stuff and noise once again. I am looking forward to it all, but for now, I will relish in the serenity.  

Hot on the tail of a busy Christmas day, last night we strolled on the beach, watched the sunset and spoke with family from England, whose day was just about to begin. It is so easy now to keep in touch and we were thrilled they were home, albeit rugged up to fend away the winter chill, while we were in shorts and thongs. Our own day was filled with family festivities beginning on Christmas eve as we prepared our contributions to the day in the form of pavlova’s (Daryl's specialty) and roast turkey (my specialty), all the while entertaining two granddaughters so their parents could prepare and assemble gifts too big to fit under the Christmas tree. Celebrations began in the early afternoon, with a visit across the road where the cats will be holidaying for a week, their placement was the perfect opportunity to share a drink and gifts with our neighbour and some of her family, visiting from interstate. The little girls were very happy to play with two other girls and made fast friends. The cats settled, although I doubt they will thank me for their temporary relocation. The catch ups continued to Churchill and ended at the traditional Christmas eve dinner with most of Daryl’s family. Loads of food, kids running amuck is usual and a visit from Santa on his firetruck was a treat for all the little ones. The biggest treat however, by far, was the surprise appearance of my son Damien, who showed up from sunny Queensland, rendering me speechless for a few moments. With my eyes stinging with tears, I thought my legs would give way as I went to him, hugging him so tightly, we could barely breathe. I miss him so much and his unexpected visit seems to have been a carefully guarded secret within my own clan. As I prepared for Christmas morning, knowing all my babies would all be present was a priceless gift, and I couldn’t help smiling as we stuffed stockings well past midnight in readiness for an early start. Despite the fact my youngest baby is 19, they still get a childish buzz out of their Santa stockings, which is now carried onto their own children (without relinquishing their own!). Continuing with family traditions Christmas breakfast was a feast shared with special friends, who

we count as family, a visit from twin Santa’s and the exchanging of many gifts and letters. It is my choice to write each of the grandchildren a letter each Christmas, although they cannot yet read, I hope this will be something they will cherish many years down the track. The reality of feeding 30 odd people is never easy but I have to say my son and his partner did a sterling job getting it all together, and with a little help from the rest of us, we enjoyed copious amounts of fare and a drop of celebratory sparkles and ale. Onward, we arrived at the next feast sharing this part with Daryl’s son’s in-laws. A quieter affair it was just lovely, especially with the addition of their first child, who at only six weeks of age, was oblivious to all the fuss around him.

It was then time to pack and make our way to the van. Our place of rest and relaxation (interspersed with a few housekeeping jobs here and there). It had taken some convincing to get Daryl here for only one night, but he did and it was a good idea.

Sitting here now, I am part way through my drink, the air is slightly cooler and the families around me are filling the air with the fragrance of camp food, namely sausages on the barbeque. The magpies are attentive in the hope of an easy feed, while I can hear the hammering of pegs into the ground where the newest arrivals set up their campsites. Despite the third year of drought, the parks ground is relatively easy to hammer into, and we also spent a short time getting our outdoor flooring and gazebo in place earlier today, providing us shelter but also privacy and protection from the westerly winds, known to rise up and batter sites at its will.

I will see the New Year in from here and will be joined by Daryl, some friends and anyone else who chooses to come up. It will be a causal event, with a roast on the Weber, drinks and a game or two of cards. I expect we will see the New Year fireworks from the shores of Red Bluff and will ignore the crowds who will gather at Lakes Entrance. This is my kind of party, with as little fuss and fanfare as possible in the company of good friends and family. If you’re wondering who looks after the farm while we do all this relaxing, despair not, the animals are well tendered to with our trusty farm-sitter employed to watch over the ever-browning grass, the flock of hens, their protector alpacas and our small herd of cows with their young calves, in our absence. At last count we had 15 young babies running around, kicking up a lot of dust, so before we left the morass was opened and they all hoofed it down the paddock to feed on the green grass amongst the gum trees that will provide them with ample shelter in the upcoming days of heat. Temperatures forecast in the low 40’s are becoming more common and with bushfires already burning across thousands of hectares of Australia we are always mindful of the risks during the summer season. This year our fire season started early, interstate, with a ferocity we have not experienced for some years. For now, we are fine but vigilant.

The opportunity to take a break also gives a chance to put the paint brushes down and leave the chaos of house renovations for a time. They are coming along with the new kitchen now functional and I must say, looking fabulous, with our red gum bench tops and new oven. The laundry has also had a makeover and is not only more pleasing to the eye, it is far more functional. Never a fan of painting, I am enduring the process and grateful for every moment of assistance from family and friends. The process, like many major life events, has been the catalyst of a few flared tempers and fiery exchanges between Daryl and I in recent weeks fuelled by the end of the year fatigue and my resignation from my job, I am pleased to say we have made it through relatively unscathed. Leaving my former employer of three years was another major decision but I have no doubt it was a good choice given the instant relief of tension from my body and mind once I said a final farewell. Blessed to have secured another job I am excited about a different future.

With a new decade knocking on our figurative door, I am hopeful 2020 will bring opportunities for change, challenge and contemplation. I turn 50 next year and while this is not a significant event for some – it is for me.

Whatever 2020 means for you I hope it is just perfect.

Until next time,

N

Rivergum dry

Barren paddocks

The rain is falling softly, lightly indenting the dirt across the farm. It is welcome. It is but a drop in the proverbial ocean, not even close to being enough. 

Three years ago there were photos of lush paddocks with the greenest grass tickling the cows knees. Today, the contrast couldn't be more acute. Hard, compacted soil with sprigs of weed is the only growth to be seen. Even if the cows got down on their knees there is no grass to be eaten. Today is a another sad day, drought is very real and there is no sign of it breaking, despite the dampness in the air tonight.

A welcome sight - rain

We recently made the decision, knowing the result would be less than favourable, to send 29 of our younger steers and heifers to market, the food bowl is dry and in a few weeks they would be showing ribs. Hoping someone in South or West Gippsland, where the pasture is plentiful, would take them, we loaded them up on the semi and sent them on their way to a new home. Sold they did, at a huge loss. We are still reeling from the prices, despite knowing they would be poor, the harsh reality stings.  All our work, frosty mornings of feeding calves, drenching and caring for stock only to let them go for a song. A sad melody indeed.

We acknowledge that many are far worse, relying solely on the land for their income. Recently, the 'Need for Feed' convoy went through town and I was caught in the carpark as it barrelled by. Unashamedly, I shed a tear for the many farmers who would be waiting for this essential supply, knowing in a small way how heartbreaking these days will be for them. Tears also flowed for the generosity of the many who were carting hay and travelling to towns far from home to support their fellow Cockies.

Young ones off to sale

Townies will never understand, the heartache that comes with raising livestock, the emotional investment, not to mention the financial investment that goes hand in hand with any primary production. But they will feel the impact of drought in the coming months with food sources impacted and prices inevitably bound to increase. The other day the news reporters were trumpeting about some rains received in northern NSW, and suggesting this would be enough to make them happy. A months measure overnight - sounds good but.....seriously how ridiculous to think that a brief deluge would break a drought. The ground is so hard and unforgiving that weeks of gentle soaking rain is needed to seep into the layers of soil before there is a chance for recovery. Reporters who try to sensationalise the stories need to learn some lessons before reporting such dribble. This is someone's livelihood, their past and future all wrapped up in the land they work. This is their life and it is seemingly blowing away with every gust of wind.
So for us, fortunate enough to have a choice, we will not be able to sustain our remaining cattle, beautiful cows with young calves at foot. We have three round bales left, a handful of pellets and some bushland that will keep them in feed for a few weeks. Anyone who has ever breastfed will know that feeding babies is hungry work and these mumma's need grass. Again we will look to sell. Again we will be saddened and disappointed. Unless rain arrives - there is always hope while the sun sets and rises each day.

Orphan 'Winston' always hungry

Helping Poppy

Now that daylight savings is upon us we are able to enjoy the longer days and get the chores done at a more leisurely pace after work, this provides some down time and often a chance to reflect and complete some of the little jobs. At present the feeding of one very hungry orphaned calf (one of twins) keeps us on our toes as Winston demands his daily milk. Saved from the frosty night after his mum rejected him, he was so small he fit nicely in the footwell of the ute, easily carried across the paddock by Daryl. Nowadays he could easily knock us over on our backside with one head butt. He has grown from strength to strength and thinks he is our pet. With Spring in full swing, the veggie patch is being turned over for new crops to be planted. Daryl even had a little help from our beautiful grandchildren. The beehive is alive with activity and the bees are busy preparing, what we hope will be, delicious honey.

Unfortunately, we lost a number of trees over Winter, despite our efforts to protect them from the dry and frost but regardless the wind breaks, whose growth also stagnated over Winter, are being plied with water (thank goodness for the new bore) and are showing promising signs with buds and new growth sprouting along the driveway.

Spring crop 

Unfortunately, the water tanks are also dry and we have reverted back to town water (yuck) but its better than no water! When the rain does come, it is delightful to hear the sound of water running into the tanks. The carport now complete helps gather as much rainfall as possible.
Right now we can hear trickles of water running into the tanks..but you need to listen carefully.

The coming weeks will be filled with more heartbreaking decisions and no doubt you will see some photos of cows, with calves at foot, in the hopes we can find them a new home for a fair price.

Here's hoping.

Until next time,
N

When a loss makes a winning opportunity.

 I lost a bet a few weeks ago. Richmond versus Collingwood. Long time AFL rivals and a silent part of our marriage. You see, Daryl is a staunch Tigers fan and I have barracked for the Pies since forever, so when we wed the rivalry continued year in year out. This year, Daryl decided to sweeten the game and throw in the suggestion of a wager - the loser takes the winner out for tea. I suspect he knew he would win and planned something he would benefit from in no uncertain terms. For me, I wasn't too fussed, didn't even watch the game but noted the score with a little more interest than usual. As luck would have it, the Pies dive bombed and the Tigers roared, I was now responsible for a night out on the town. Having started a

new job at work, the last couple of weeks have been hectic and I have been fatigued and I suspect running on adrenaline. As such, planning dinners out was not on my priority list. But not to renege on a bet, the loss niggled at my subconscious. At some point during this last week I decided that this bet offered me an opportunity - a chance to create some "us time".  A short getaway, designed to recharge the batteries and enjoy some uninterrupted time away from the responsibilities of the farm. So in a few hours I had booked a night away, with views over the water, near the beach and a room with a spa. A combination of the things we both enjoy. The sounds of the sea, the taste of salt in the air, the clear blue sky dotted with seagulls in the air and the elegance of the swans in the lake create a backdrop of relaxation and romance. Dinner out at our favourite

restaurant along with a cocktail or two and a bottle of red, made a beautiful night seem magical. A late check out the next day afforded us a sleep in. At the end of a long week the timing was just perfect. My loss gave us the chance to talk, to laugh, to remember how much we care about each other, and our life as a whole. We talked about how fortunate we are to share common goals, dreams and aspirations, the joy we share with friends along with the struggles and frustrations that fracture our days. Seems to me my loss was definitely a win for us both. The Lakes Entrance economy also benefited from our presence!

Of course after all great retreats, reality returns wth bite. Today we spent the day catching up. The cows needed hay, the chooks needed their pens cleaned including removing all the old flooring and replacing it with new sawdust. The old stuff, will make the best fertiliser and is filled with enough chook manure to fill a very large trailer. The task took several hours. Wearing a dust mask and safety glasses we raked and shovelled and got covered in grime. The white masks ended up a putrid shade of black and my hair resembled dreadlocks gone very wrong (although personally I never think dreadlocks go right). In our down time, Daryl thought loading up

the bonfire pile with more random tree branches would be a fun filled activity! Following our morning adventures I spent the afternoon in the kitchen, cooking up a storm of soups ready for quick and easy meals, along with fritters and naturally everyone still wanted to eat dinner, so a main meal was also on the agenda.
Now, after a glass of wine, a delicious meal and all the jobs completed I am well and truly ready for a nap. Daryl is out walking his gun, I haven't heard any gunfire so I suspect he has not found any vermin to shoot, as yet. Another week of work looms ahead of me. Daryl's holidays are over and he returns on Tuesday. We look forward to our next retreat, whatever form that takes; maybe the next time the Tigers and the Pies line up I will be the one getting whisked away for some romantic rendezvous.

Until next time,
N

Escaping to an Escape Room

Ever been to an escape room?
If not, I encourage you to do so. It is one of many recent crazes to amuse our small minds but I must admit this one has got me. After hearing about it, from my son and his partner, we decided to surprise Daryl with a belated birthday trip to a 'Clockwork themed' Escape Room in Oakleigh, a short time ago. Armed with only our individual problem-solving skills, friends Zac and Carol joined Daryl and I on our adventure. In the beginning, Daryl was indeed skeptical but by the end he was a converted fan. According to a Google search an Escape Room is a real-life team-based puzzle game, where you are locked in a room and have to solve puzzles together to get out. The escape rooms are team based, and we found four an excellent number of people due to the limiting size of the room, but also allowing enough diversity in problem-solving skills to enable us to work together. Escape rooms have a clear objective which is to "escape" the room, which will involve finding a key, a key combo, or activating some sort of mechanism that will unlock the final door. Escape rooms are usually themed under some kind of "story". Some of these themes are stories, where you play some sort of character who was trapped in X and need to find themselves out. We chose clockworks, which was about travelling back in time, given Daryl's attraction to old clocks. The rooms were decorated from this theme and I have to say the designers are very clever. The puzzles involve finding hidden objects around the room, using tools to find clues,  pattern matching and recognition, ciphers, visual and spatial reasoning, putting together related physical objects and so much more. The puzzles aren't really the "logic puzzle" type - usually these puzzles are highly biased towards ones that require mostly creativity and a little bit of "thinking outside of the box". Our escape room had two rooms and we had to find a number of keys and codes, allowing us to progress to the next step. It is time limited, so there is a little pressure, especially if you want to succeed. We found the organisers very helpful and only had to ask for help twice. As we endeavoured to unravel each clue, there were moments of small tensions and frustration but mostly it brought the best out in all of us. We worked well as a team and we were determined to solve it. And we did, after they gave us an extra ten minutes. What conversation it created when we finally escaped, what fun it was to re-visit the scenes and scenarios. So if you looking for something different then why not find an escape room near you! 

The escape room was one of a number of activities we took on as part of Daryl's surprise weekend. Taking him away from the farm, can be a challenge, finding someone to mind the animals and ensure they are all ok, is not always simple and I know he worries while we are gone. But taking him away is important not just for his physical health ( he needs to rest even if he doesn't think so!) but also for our relationship and the relationships we build with our friends. Farming is not everyone's cup of tea and it's nice to play in someone else's backyard on occasion. 

So the escape weekend consisted of dodgy accommodation (thanks to it being grand prix weekend); shopping at DFO (sorry Zac we know you hated it); fabulous food at a variety of locations, of particular note souvlaki at Stalactites Restaurant (go there, its just divine);  club style tenpin bowling, (or disco dancing Carol style with encouragement from tequila shots and cocktails); Go-Kart racing; food truck festival and lots of coffee and other liquid refreshments. We didn't realise that when we organised the trip it would be the Greek Independence Day and therefore found ourselves among thousands of Greek descendants as they celebrated their day in Oakleigh. Lots of noise and colour and barely a space to walk between the crowds we managed to miraculously find a table in a restaurant and enjoyed the delectable delights of Greek cuisine. The weekend was busy and terribly indulgent but if you can't indulge now and again, then life is simply hard work and where is the joy in that?

Speaking about hard work, the hole from my previous blog is still not big enough so Daryl spent a few hours this morning digging some more. At least he got some reprieve after escaping the hole and enjoying the delights of the Tinamba Food and Wine Festival. The hole will wait another day. Will keep you posted.

Until next time,
N

Watch out for large holes

I came home today and found a very large hole at the front of my house, and my husband, surrounded by the canine family, looking more than exhausted as he rested on a very large drainage pipe. The hole has grown extensively over the past few weeks with the help of the tractor and auger, however today’s efforts were impressive, to me the observer, after the fact. Having bent the auger (who does that!) due to the ground being like concrete, and hiring a mini digger not fitting in the budget, it was left to major muscle on a crowbar and shovel. You will not be surprised to find that Daryl needed a shower, new arms and a couple of stiff drinks before he returned to his former self, albeit a little achy. This hole is indicative of the frustration we are facing of late, with no rain in sight, the ground continues to harden and remain dry and desolate. We are feeding the cows hay and lucerne and we are on the lookout for silage to supplement the meagre picking of the paddocks. We also feed them bread collected each Saturday from a local bakery for a small fee which we pay to take the excess loaves which would otherwise be thrown in the bin. Such a waste, if you consider that some weeks we get anywhere from 5 to 15 massive garbage bags full of bread. The sweet treats are sadly thrown in the bin, another example of how our laws encourage wastage. The cows and chooks love the bread, as do the damn rats if they can get hold of it. The cows will gallop down the paddock if they hear the ute and I’m sure they know when it’s Saturday evening and the bread collection is done. Speaking of animal feed, we have trialed a new chook feed and coincidentally the egg production has decreased dramatically. This is not a good sign. The egg orders are flowing fast and I am delighted each time we get a new customer. Our reasoning suggests It could be some chooks going into molting season, a select few chooks who are free loading or a protest in the change of grain. To try and work out the issue we have bought a couple of bags of the former feed and put it in their feed bins. If egg production improves problem solved and if it doesn’t then some of these chickens will be walking a fine line between free ranging and soup. Unfortunately, the new feed is much cheaper as we buy it in bulker bags and if we return to our old feed source our costs will once again be raised. This is not something we need right now. On the back of a long, dry summer/autumn season is the increased costs associated with the farm, including having to source hay rather than cutting our own. We had the depressing tasks of trying to balance the books last night, the resulting efforts sent us straight to the wine cupboard, a few glasses allowing the numbers to blur and eventually we couldn’t see the negative sign so clearly. Funds are certainly stretched these days with no income from the farm expected and only expenses going out. Our social life is severely on hold, not to mention other treats or gifts. It is not only the continuous warm weather that saps me some days. But this is the cycle of farming, no doubt in a season or two we will thrive again…at least that’s the plan.
 Back to that rather large hole, it is required to be used as a sump pit beside the carport concrete to drain away the excess water which runs off the concrete driveway we are intending to lay. Unfortunately, the house was built lower than the fall of the paddocks and every winter for as long as I can remember the area surrounding the house has flooded. Poor design is once again causing issues. My father tried to resolve the issue by running pipes into the paddocks and this achieved an ineffective lake of mud. Mind you he chose where to build this particular house and I suspect it was the cheapest option! 

The carport has been a long, slow developing project, but hopefully it will be ready before the winter season. In readiness for our slow approaching winter the chimneys have been cleaned and the combustion stove thoroughly scraped and all the excess ash cleared. We have tested the stove a couple of times recently and once again the water is boiling super-hot and the comforting aroma of wood burning permeates the house. I am eagerly awaiting the cooler days and chilly nights, unlike most people I know who relish the hot summer sun. The forecast still ranks a few days next week in the high 20 and low 30s, way too warm for autumn and I am hoping I can avoid the sun’s sting as best as possible. 

However you spend the last remaining warmth of autumn I hope it is with a happy heart and soul filled with sunshine.


 Til next time, N.