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

October 8th - 5,270,400 seconds

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. 

With grand plans to create a photo memory book, write letters back to our family and a number of other activities to record and relive those magical memories, our reality is quite different.
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.

Our youngest is finishing her final year of school, exam prep is well and well truly underway. Her determination and drive to succeed is reminiscent of a younger version of myself and I am so very proud of her. She is also in the final stages of preparation for another extended adventure overseas in the new year. How I miss the enthusiasm of youth and the energy that springs from hope. Today, I feel older than my years, clouded in my views, and small, despite my expanded holiday-waistline.  Maybe in another 5,270,400 seconds things will be different. 

Until next time,

N

Drought drain

Summer has morphed into Autumn but the temperatures would indicate otherwise. As I type this, the Vic Emergency app alerts are active – three significant fires are currently burning, putting people, their homes and livestock at great risk. This heatwave is rocking southeast Victoria and I doubt anyone is celebrating the blazing sun that continues to crisp the ravaged ground we walk on. A few weeks ago, we enjoyed a brief reprieve with 30 mm of rain and in a few days, we saw growth in the paddocks. Sporadic and scattered across the land it was a hopeful sign. We moved the remaining cows onto high ground and watched them ravish the fresh growth. It sustained them for a day or two but we have now returned them to the morass, supplementing the little feed available with hay. Anything that was trying to grow is now burnt again with temperatures in the high 30s making it impossible. The vegetable gardens and house lawn are green and while not thriving it’s certainly surviving, thanks to daily watering. The bees have had shade cloth put over their hives to help them during the rough days, but really it isn’t enough. I think without the green in the backyard it would be most depressing to look out the window. Walking though the paddocks is one way to deflate your spirits. The ground is cracking and I wonder when the rain will arrive. There has been much conversation in the media regarding government assistance for farmers and for the most part their efforts are a slap in the face, indicating their total disrespect for the industry and understanding of the job farmers do and the emotional, financial and physical investment each one makes to continue day in, day out. The debt that accumulates has the potential to drive the strongest person to consider extreme measures. This is not acceptable. The ramifications of not supporting our farmers is lost on the general population and I am saddened to consider a future where we import all our produce because we didn’t act smarter when we had the chance.

For now, Daryl and I continue to maintain our property with the limited resources we have left. We have downsized as much as possible without removing our future possibilities and decided to bring in a bull for the remaining 18 breeders. They should calve towards the end of this year and we hope decent Autumn, Winter and Spring rain will rejuvenate the ground before little hooves hit the ground. Even our hens have had enough of the heat and we barely get a dozen eggs from our flock of chooks. Once this lot of feed runs out, the girls will be relocated to other homes and we will consider if we replace them down the track. If we do, some improvements to the pen will need to be made allowing for greater efficiency and less time commitment. 

Flipping the page, it is fortunate that nothing is growing and we have reduced the animal stock-take as I don’t seem to be able to get myself back to good health. After another two weeks off work, due to illness, I am struggling to get back on track. I am booked in for further surgery on my hip in a few weeks and again will be out of action for another two weeks. Frustrated? Yes. 

Until next time,

N

Bush pinstripes

Eight four-wheel drive vehicles met up at the Licola General store, the passengers grabbing for jumpers with the unexpected morning chill in the air as they got out and greeted their fellow adventurers. Saturday morning dawned overcast and provided a nice reprieve from the recent scorching temperatures. Drivers keen for a bit of road grunt, river crossings and dozer cuts, animatedly spoke of treks past and plans for the day ahead. Passengers feeling the green, from the windy roads leading into the meeting point, were pleased to stretch their legs and settle their revolving tummies. 

A Triton, Landcruiser, Hilux, Prado and four Nissan’s lined up in their designated places in the convoy, rules were explained to the maiden drivers and radios all checked into channel 21. With assorted supplies purchased from the local store, including fuel at $1.80 per litre (ouch), lollies, sausage rolls and questionable coffee, we were off. 

Daryl and I led the way. This day out was Daryl’s idea, an opportunity for our friend’s Carol and Zac to christen their newly acquired 4WD. Having never been off-road before, they were placed second last in the convoy immediately on front of Daryl’s brother, Steve. A seasoned off-roader Steve would ensure everyone was safe and could lend a hand if necessary to our newbies. Thankfully his services were not needed. Behind us travelled Daryl’s workmate Les, also relatively new to 4WDing. After initial issues with his radio, he soon blended into the group and was welcome by all who travelled together. Behind him were longtime friends Owen and Kate. All credit to Kate who joined under duress, going off road is not exactly her idea of a good time. Given the rest of her family were also attending she put on her big girl pants, gritted her teeth and clenched her fists as they traversed the mountainside. Daryl had assured Kate that the trek was rated easy to moderate, I’m not sure Kate believes him or forgives him, just yet. Owen, with the patience of a saint supported Kate in his humorous and generous manner ensuring she was as comfortable as possible. Entertaining us all, through their animated chatter via the radio, Owen and Kate’s offspring along with their respective partners and friends, filled the remaining three vehicles. Aged between 15 and 23 they were the ‘kids’ of the trip and reminded us all what it is like to be young and full of

vigour. Collectively they are a representation of all that is to be admired – considerate, polite, easy going, willing to chip in and lend a hand, family focused and fundamentally positive. They will be welcome on any future trips. 

Once the convoy arrived at the Macalister and Caledonia Junction with a final river crossing, we found a reasonable spot right next to the water and set ourselves up. In a matter of minutes, the fire was lit in preparation for a barbeque, chairs were set up and the fumes of fly repellent filled the immediate area. The little black, sticky winged devils remained friendly throughout the day. The only respite from them was in the river! Albeit lower than usual, due to this infernal drought, the river flowed easily, creating small rapids downstream and a tiny mini pool up stream, but it was a challenge to find swimming areas deep enough to cover your shoulders.

Those of us keen enough to brave the chill waded and enjoyed the freedom that river swimming generally allows. The rocky river bed and occasional tree trunk also posed a few challenges to our balance but in reality, inhibitions were thrown alongside our towels on the stony river edge and the sounds of friendly banter and cajoling could be heard by all around. Entertainment was also well provided by other off roaders and a group of campers, who challenged every dress code imaginable. Sporting an array of sun tan markings, it was clear that the use of shirts was limited. 

Despite the big dry, plenty of campers were scattered through the national park and outlying areas, some setting up camp on the roadside in rather precarious positions. If they didn’t get collected by wayward vehicles the dust and fumes would soon choke them up. The Australia Day long weekend certainly proved popular with campers, as well as ourselves, keen to enjoy as much of the outdoors as possible. As with all good things they must come to an end, and with little effort the fire was doused and we left nothing to indicate we had ever been to this location other than a very generous pile of wood, brought from the farm. 

The trip home was uneventful. This time Steve led the way and we took last place, eating everyone’s dust. With only a few bush pinstripes Carol and Zac’s Hilux returned to Licola unscathed. It’s maiden trip successfully completed. 

21 days

It’s been 21 days since I last went to work. Twenty-one days to rest, recover, reconnect…. using 120 hours of time in lieu was a very good decision! 

Went I left work, just prior to Christmas, I was barely walking, using a crutch to move around, in severe pain and taking a plethora of painkillers. I loaded up two bags with work papers, intending to catch up during my time off. Today, I sit here with one day left of my ‘holidays’ and I am only taking one slow release anti-inflammatory, no longer use the crutch to get around and I have not touched one sheet of work. I feel rested and hopeful of a new way this year. Taking up strong advise to head back to the physiotherapist, I am now working towards rectifying years of damage and over compensation, along with strengthening exercises in preparation for a potential hip replacement. I am back in the pool and attending regular remedial massage sessions. I have become high maintenance. My range of movements is still limited and I am learning to listen to my own body, instead of ignoring the messages. I am not a good patient, I have been told this repeatedly, but I am determined to enjoy our grand adventure for 2019 – an eight-week journey to Britain to meet family, return Dad’s ashes to his final resting place and then explore the wonders of Ireland, Scotland, Wales and England without the need for crutches. 

No presents until Santa shows!

During this 21 days, extreme weather, high temperatures and the threat of fire in our neighbourhood have kept us on our toes, drenched in sweat and reaching for the cold water on frequent occasions. However, I was blessed to enjoy an adventure with my children, their partners and grandchildren to the Carols by Candlelight in Melbourne on Christmas eve.

A rare opportunity, to have us all in one place, we enjoyed a festive atmosphere and celebrated Christmas together in a three-storey house located only ten minutes from the Sidney Myer Music Bowl. With the air conditioning cranked up the house was a welcome relief after the blistering heat of the day. With all the clan together, the boisterous chatter, can be quite hard to contain, and I was worried about the increasing noise as a few drinks were enjoyed. At home on the farm we never worry about noise, but in the city with neighbours only meters away it was a challenge. The only time it was silent was during the playing of our traditional song – Christmas Shoes. It is a sad song with a beautiful message, we listen to it as a family every year. As the evening became early morning I put my mum voice on and finally convinced them all to head to bed so Santa could fill the stockings. Silence finally descended upon the house and at 2.30 in the morning I headed onto the balcony and enjoyed the city view, reflected on my many blessings, most of them snoring soundly in their beds. The morning dawn arrived way to soon, but our family ritual of cooked breakfasts together was in full swing. Bacon sizzled, hash browns baked and eggs were fried while a basket of muffins were toasted and prepared for the masses. The aroma of coffee soon filled the room. Stockings were swiftly upended and gifts exchanged, we took photos, and with hugs aplenty, all went our separate ways to enjoy the remainder of Christmas day. 

Seems Santa founds us.

The new year arrived in an uneventful fashion, Daryl worked night shift and I spent it quietly at home. The first anniversaries of the death of my former father-in-law, and then most recently my own father, cast a shadow across the start of January. Sadness is a part of our lives, contributing to the rich complexity that is our journey, as much as the joy and moments of happiness, but this understanding does not make it easy. During the gathering of valuables as we recently prepared to evacuate, I gathered numerous writings, letters, cards and even old printed emails that reflected many events and opportunities enjoyed by us all, re-reading them, I discovered similar issues over the past ten years that Daryl and I still find ourselves challenged with especially the work, life balance conundrum. Maybe this year we might find a better way.

Steers ready to go to a new home.

Circumstances that are not bringing us any joy right now, include the drought that refuses to end. We sold another 10 steers the other day and we have eight heifers to go plus a few other cows we may also sell. The herd is getting smaller which is just as well considering the feed options are getting sparser. A load of hay is on its way, 48 round bales of good quality pasture from South Gippsland where the grass is green and growing faster than we can imagine at present. The steers went straight from their mum’s and the remaining stock bawled all night, breaking through our back-paddock gate, returning them to the high ground from the morass. In the middle of the night, this was not a pleasant task, as the electric fence needed to be reinstated. There is no feed in the paddocks and we are unclear about why they would break out, except to search for their

Escape route

calves. In the clear light of day Daryl, with some help from our trusty friends Zac and Carol, made temporary repairs to render the gateway functional. With the herd serenading us this morning, we also had shearers booked in to tidy up our

Like a new one!

two alpacas. A new shearer, Sarah, whom we had never met, arrived with a team of three others and within 30 minutes they had efficiently and professionally shorn, vaccinated and trimmed the hooves of our Romney and Delight. Well prepared and coordinated Sarah and her team were a welcome addition to our day. 

Makes it look easy

The heat of the day keeps me indoors, tackling the small tasks that can be forgotten in the day to day busyness. It’s been nice to have time to get things sorted. Cleaning out cupboards, sorting through paperwork, re-arranging belongings often takes me back down memory lane. Somedays this is a good thing, but on other days it’s more of a chore. 

Looking a little cooler

Our final task of the day saw the dusk settling in as we fed some hay to the cattle (bought tonight from a local farmer and friend). The cattle created quite the dust storm running towards the tractor in pursuits of fresh feed. It’s a nice feeling to be able to give them something that will fill their stomachs that I presume tastes quite lovely!

Waiting for a haircut

With no sign of rain, the sprinklers are churning out as much water as possible on the vegetable garden and in our efforts to keep the house grounds damp, in consideration of the neighbouring fire, the grass is finally starting to grow and we have a tiny belt of green in our backyard. The fire is still burning behind containment lines. It is classed as out of control and has burnt more than 12,000 hectares. The sun set tonight

with a red glow in the sky, the temperatures are rising each day and will tip 40 degrees by mid-week. It will be a challenge to keep that grass green. Monday sees work start up again and I know my greatest challenge will be to keep control of my hours and workload, allowing me time to recover as I try to rebuild this flailing body of mine. Also, we have a significant birthday to celebrate this weekend and I will need to be in form to ensure its success. More about that later J

I came across this in some of my writings – good advice:

Wisdom is knowing what to do next,

Skill is knowing how to do it,

And virtue is doing it!

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