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

Time - a slow transformation

New Year celebrations are now a distant memory fading away like the acrid smell of bushfires that surrounded us all only a few weeks ago. Now we are experiencing above average rainfalls along the east coast and our little plot is finally turning green. Life has quickly moved from the summer slumber into mode of work, schedules and appointments. Time in 2020 is moving rapidly or so it seems, and I am a little amazed it is already February.

As I type this Daryl is persistently laying our new floor. Loose lay vinyl planks, 90 metres of it, which all require gluing down. It is really like a giant game of tetris combined with a jigsaw. Pattern placement, curved walls and smooth cement are considerations we never really had before. But I must say after plenty of debate around getting a professional in to lay the floor versus Daryl teaching himself a new trade, he has excelled, and the final pieces are making our house look more like home. The walls now boast fresh paint and our feature wall (chocolate fudge) is without question the most valuable wall in the house, needing eight litres of paint to get a suitable finish. Curtains and blinds are also being reinstalled and shiny new handles don the freshly painted doors. Soon we will be able to put furniture back in and decorate the walls with pictures and paintings. For those that have followed our renovation journey we have chosen our splash back tiles for both the kitchen and laundry. Our redgum shelves are getting their final coats of lacquer and the hall table is ready for placement. I’m looking forward to placing a vase of fresh flowers on the table and welcoming friends and family through our new front door (still to arrive).

In amongst the renovation ride we farewelled our Miss Bek who has started her adventure to Ghana, West Africa. For six months Bek will be living and teaching English in a small village school near the coast. After enduring a gruelling 24-hour flight she has been greeted by hot, humid conditions and an abundance of beautiful smiles from the school children. Her host family speak English well and she is blessed to have a welcoming family to support her. They even bought her a new bed – a luxury many of her fellow volunteers do not share. Cost of living is cheap in comparison to Australia and I anticipate the journey will be priceless. I have now spoken to Bek a couple of times and she has shared a few pictures and videos of life in Ghana. I am overwhelmingly proud of her achievements and persistence in saving to make this trip come to fruition. She worked two jobs while studying her final VCE year (achieving a commendable ATAR) and saved like a squirrel. After months of research, planning and applications Latitude Volunteering said yes to her, but really, how could they not. Saying goodbye at Tullamarine airport was heart wrenching for me. Worry, fear, excitement and pride all blended together to create an emotional maelstrom. Each time I receive any communication the storm subsides just a little more.

During January we also celebrated our eleventh wedding anniversary and it was my turn to organise “something” to mark the occasion.  So many months ago, I booked randomly into guesthouse in Daylesford, choosing the long weekend as a preferred date. Honestly, by the time we arrived, later than anticipated, weary from too much in our calendar and pushing the boundaries of physical, emotional and mental capacity, I’d forgotten why I chose Holyrood House, and then I remembered! From the moment Andrew opened the front door to greet us, we were enchanted by this special place and it’s fabulous hosts. Andrew and Keith couldn’t have been more helpful, friendly or considerate, making our stay even more memorable. They excel where so many fail - in the detail - from fine linen, spotlessly clean rooms, delectable wine, scrumptious breakfasts and indulgent high tea, the list is endless. Catering to gluten free requirements, their food was exceptional, and I don’t say that lightly, used to some poor efforts at other establishments. 

These gentlemen have refurbished this guesthouse to replicate a bygone era of style, character, service and class. It is warm and welcoming. I could have happily stayed in the parlour, enjoying cups of coffee, reading the many books available, or my own, as the subtle sounds of music played in the background, instead of sightseeing the gorgeous Daylesford surrounds. The gardens are also a delight, and again, tea on the veranda is a treat. Their beautiful pooch, who’s name escapes me, is also adorable. Clearly well trained, she adds another homely dimension to Holyrood House. A wealth of knowledge Andrew was able to provide many recommendations to local attractions and eateries, and his advice is well worth listening to. It was clear by the breakfast conversations that other guests benefited from his suggestions, as did we. Our weekend included supporting the local economy as we wandered the main street of Daylesford enjoying the eclectic array of stores including books, shoes, antiques, art, and coffee. We meandered the local market and took a trip down memory lane on a dusty, noisy old diesel-powered train, I may have slept through the return journey – but enjoyed the scenery on the way up including local wineries, which may be a good stop next time. It is difficult to define our experience here, suffice to say, we will be back – although we will pass on the ‘natural’ spring water and stick to the bottle Hepburn springs variety.

Taking the time away when life is so stretched seemed a little indulgent, but then what else is time for but to enjoy and share experiences. Time enables us to create dreams and pursue them, achieve goals, experience the high and lows of life with others and sometimes alone. Time is a luxury that many of us have stolen too soon, warped from frustration, fear, illness and grief. 

Time is becoming a priority for us here at Rivergum.We have no more or less time than anyone else, but how we choose to spend it is a slow transformation. 

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