Early days in the journey

On Sunday June 16 we arrived at my cousin, Karen and her husband Charles’ home Hollymead, in Ellesmere after a 22 hour flight. We left home at 630 on Saturday morning, Australian time, lost a day along the way and landed in Manchester at 630 am Sunday morning, English time. Back home, many people talked about the little, narrow roads in England but it is hard to fathom until you actually drive on them! We travelled on the motorway for a while and discovered most cars ignore the speed limit of 70 miles per hour. We felt like we were standing still as car after car zoomed passed us.

 

We crossed into Wales and then back into England as we headed towards our destination. Travelling through the smaller towns saw us lost on numerous occasions, with frantic messages 
going back and forth to Karen who was providing us instructions. Eventually we found our way. The roads twist and turn, the hedges hug

 the road and there is no curb side to speak of. Dog walkers take their pooches for a stroll under threat of collision at all times. The windy roads make it impossible to see what is 

around the bend, yet locals travel without caution. The road signs are low to the ground so Australians used to seeing them on street signposts high into the air need to again 

change their process and thinking.

Karen and Charles’ home is quintessentially English. Green foliage as far as the eye can see, birds, mainly Gold Finches flit in and out of squirrel proof feeders and happily chirp 

away. Squirrels scamper up and down the trees and pheasants walk freely through the
 towns and home gardens. The  summer temperature is a cool 13-16 degrees, the wind chill is crisp.
 They have had so much rain, we cannot imagine what it is like anymore from a drought perspective. 

A brief stroll through Ellesmere gave us the opportunity to see the narrow boats in action, enjoy watching a large 
gaggle of geese and white swans swim in the lake 
surrounded by a large public park before having afternoon tea overlooking the lake. Once you reconcile with the fact that dogs could be inside the restaurant with their owners, 
we enjoyed cake and English coffee and tea. Jet lag hit us both by evening and we gave into it by 730 pm Sunday 
night. 

Twelve hours later we felt revived and ready to venture out into the region. Our hosts are especially welcoming and make it easy to settle into their home. Continuing our journey on Monday morning, we arrived in Oswestry and ambled through the town, finding a phone shop ( local SIM card a necessity), antiques bazaar and independent book store (supported the local economy).

After our brief introduction to English shopping, we headed towards Karen’s parents home. My dad’s brother David and his wife Ellen. David is very poorly and now bedridden, the resemblance to dad is strong. Aunty Ellen is his full time career and dedicated to his welfare during such a difficult time. They visited Australia in 1976, Karen has memories of camping in Australia. I’m afraid  I was too little to recall any of this trip. Aunty Ellen remembers me as a little girl with long blonde, wavy hair. They last saw Mum and Dad in 1991 when they made a brief visit back to Wales to see the family. After bidding them goodbye, Charles took us for a drive to Dad’s old home. It is now a cleared paddock overlooking the Calvinist chapel they had to attend every Sunday, a three mile walk! The area is remote but ruggedly beautiful. 

Lunch was held in Shrewsbury, late in the afternoon, in a quirky cafe with delicious food and a marvellous assortment of teas. We continued to stroll through the local public park and stood in awe of the beautifully manicured gardens. 

Seats with small plaques line the garden, the plaques have tributes written on them for those who have passed. A thoughtful and public gesture acknowledging loved ones, 

while providing seating for those who enjoy the park each day. 

A well earned rest was had at The Armoury, a pub overlooking the River Severn.  Sampling the local choices we again supported the local economy. 

Our day ended, similar to many evenings back at Rivergum, with platters of delectable bites from cheeses, to chutneys and olives with a kick. Washed down with some Australian red wine that we brought over, the evening was mellow and filled with chatter. The sun does not set until just after 10pm by which time my eyes were heavy. 

Today will be a day of mixed emotions as we return dad to his homeland of Wales. 

Until then,

N

17,125 kilometres, 22 hours flying time, eight weeks away from home

 We are exactly one hour into our grand adventure, flying Cathay Pacific, seated near the emergency exit doors and watching time tick ever so slowly. Daryl, despite having had only a brief nap once we boarded is now immersed in a movie fest, drinking cold beer and ignoring the fact that we have a further 23 hours of flying time to go before reaching our final destination of Manchester, England. The lovely hostess brought an array of beverages so I have chosen to sample the local red wine selection, it is chilled, I am confused by this concept and while it tastes quite pleasant, I need it to warm. Fortunately, we have another eight hours on this leg of the journey after which we will land in Hong Kong. I suspect my liquid berries will reduce nicely to room temperature and if I shut my eyes while sipping, I can pretend I am drinking from a fine wine glass, instead of a plastic cup! Oh, the sufferings of the privileged. Daryl’s movie must be good, he is chuckling beside me. 

Our plane is full and so far, the infants, toddlers, teenagers and most adults are behaving very nicely. We hope, off course, for a smooth flight. I suspect Daryl will not sleep much, he is nervous and not relaxed about being confined for what is effectively 24 hours. I may need to slip some sleeping tablets into his beer. While saying goodbye to our loved ones at home was hard, I am quietly getting more excited about the prospect of eight weeks of leisure and pleasure, at least for the most part. 

Dad has joined us on this journey and will travel with us to Wales. Reduced to the size of a small box, his ashes are carefully sealed and housed in my carry on luggage. He would be pleased, this trip hasn’t cost him a cent. Soon after mum died in 2016, Daryl and I begged him to travel back to his homeland of Wales and see his family. It would have been more than 25 years since his last visit. Just when we thought we had convinced him, even offering to go with him, he stubbornly refused, citing farming obligations, costs, weather and a myriad of excuses to not travel. He assured us once he got the farm in order, he would visit. He seemed hopeful, even happy about the prospect of travelling to see them, his brothers and sister, nieces and nephews he had never met, but shortly after this time, he suffered a stroke and his travel plans were put to rest forever. I have no doubt it was a great regret for him. In his delirium and confusion he often spoke fondly of his youth and his family, so now it is time to take him home. So a part of him remains in Sale next to his wife and the other part will be interned with his parents on Tuesday. While he will return to his birthplace, we will meet his side of the family for the first time. I suspect it will be a day of mixed emotions

Our first destination , Hong Kong, is a success. After muddling our way through security, we have located the Plaza Lounge and are currently enjoying free spirits and copious amounts of Asian delicacies. A shower and then back on the plane for the final leg of our journey! Poor Daryl,  he looks so tired. Surely he will sleep next flight! 

As many of you know leaving the country for a lengthy period of time takes a lot of organising and planning. I am still a little stunned we have made it. In preparation for our departure we have finalised plans for the kitchen renovation; these will start upon our return, had more paddock fences completed and new red gum posts driven into the ground along the driveway ready for wiring; they look amazing. A few tonnes  of firewood has been brought up from the morass and we finally burnt the ever growing bonfire pile. Daryl’s new toy, the bull blade, made short work of the tea trees and the fire burnt for a few days. The dreaded 

drought brought much heartache and robust discussions around what 

to do with our stock. In the end we kept our breeders, hopefully now in calf, and bought grain, lucerne and hired a retired farmer to look after them. We hope this investment is the right decision. With the hens rehoused this only leaves the alpacas, dogs and cats, all of whom Bek will look after, while she juggles year 12 studies, her part time job, youth mayor commitments and plans her own adventures overseas in 2020. 

We have been blessed by offers of help from many friends and family and we are grateful to everyone who is helping out while we are living the tourist dream. 

Until next time 

N.

Musings

Sipping a strong cappuccino in my favourite bookstore I wonder how Daryl’s bridge climb is going. I left Daryl, Zac and Carol a little while ago and watched them make their way to the iconic Sydney harbour bridge for a twilight walk. I did not join them, finally determining that the steep climb, hundreds of steps and length of time on my feet, would push the hip recovery too far. Now I know it was the right decision as my hips both ache significantly. Recovery from hip repair surgery, undertaken some five weeks ago, is a slow, frustrating process, and I am by nature impatient. Testing it out this morning, we had booked a tour of another iconic Sydney feature- the opera house. I was pleased to have managed the many stairs and was grateful for the opportunities to sit in the theatres while the guide did his educational speech. The tour was quite enlightening and we all walked away with a great appreciation for the work that went into this amazing structure and the foresight and creativity shown by the designers and engineers involved. What a fascinating story. To end a very enjoyable hour we managed to get last minute seats to the Air Supply concert tonight at the opera house. What a treat.

While this trip interstate is technically an extension of Daryl’s 50th birthday celebrations, I feel this concert is directed more at Carol and myself than our partners. But, of course, being the troopers they are, they said yes when we suggested getting tickets.

Our journey into our neighbouring state, started very early yesterday morning. I left the farm at 4.30 am, long before the birds started chirping and the sun revealed it’s glorious rise, even the dogs ignored me at that time of day. Having had about two hours sleep, my eyes were red and I featured some impressive bags under them. Carol and Zac were up and waiting by the time I arrived at their place and we set off to collect Daryl from work. Naturally he was unable to have a rest during the
night and he then set about being awake for around 36 hours. The lengthy drive to the airport nor the
plane flight resulted in him getting any shut eye. After a debate on the best way to get to our
accommodation, choices were the train, Uber or traditional taxi - the taxi won out we enjoyed a few
drinks over lunch before deciding an afternoon nap was necessary, if we were going to see the
sunset.
Last night is a haze of good food, cocktails, Scottish bagpipes, and some excellent singing on our part. A truly enjoyable way to start a long weekend. Tomorrow’s adventures will include a trip on the famous ferries to Manly beach, dinner in Darling Harbour and whatever else the day and night bring. We are reasonably flexible like that! Somewhere on our trip we will find some markets, especially in the The Rocks region where we are staying. Filled with history and amazing architecture, I love the character of the place and am glad we have returned here.

It is strange sitting here by myself typing away on my iPad, newly acquired to take overseas on our impending trip to Britain. My cappuccino is long finished and I’m tempted to order another one.
There is enough happy chatter around me to remind me that I am not alone, and as I sit in my booth on the top level, I am not distracted by it in any way. Occasionally, I look down at the people moving about the store, laden with books and gifts, the sounds of children telling weary mothers about their
favourite story can be heard, and I suspect most of those books will end up at the checkout. I hope
someone will read them to the little girls in their pretty summer dresses and young lads in their cargo
shorts and slouch hats, when they are tucked up in their beds. A love of reading will open up a world of adventures to them, forever.

By now, Daryl should be climbing the bridge. I am so very pleased he is not doing this on his own, yet, in the same breath, I am sad not to be there sharing the experience with him. I will look forward to hearing all about it soon. I will also be able to tell him about the taxi driver who drove me to my current destination.  Unlike many of the middle eastern drivers we see today, who do not speak throughout the journey,  this man was of Italian or Greek descent, I am unsure. He had a thick accent,
 large belly and kept taking his hands off the steering wheel to talk. He told me a story about going to visit his wife to-be, many years ago, back in the day before mobile phones. He said every weekend he would make the long drive from a little regional town to Sydney to visit his fiancé and always took the boss’s taxi, but one day the boss needed the car. Determined to visit, he decided he would catch
the train, but when he got to the station, at precisely two o’clock, there was no train, no train-master and no way of asking why the scheduled service was not there. Seventeen minutes went by and he animatedly told me he was ready to explode! He said the train was cancelled, but there was no signs and no one there to tell him a replacement bus was due. That 17 minutes was obviously significant enough for him to recall today, many years later. He said it was a terrible time, fearing he would not get to his beloved lady . What a romantic. He spoke of his son and two daughters, clearly proud of them and still obviously in love with his wife. He says he has driven taxis around Sydney for many years. I don’t imagine he has had a lot of luxuries, ensuring his children went to university. He smiled the whole trip, he chatted like we were old friends. In a city of thousands it was a refreshing surprise.


Well, the second cup of coffee has disappeared and I suspect it is now time to do some literary shopping..one can never have enough books..maybe Lucy would like a little picture book.
Who is Lucy? She is our newest granddaughter, worthy of her own blog in due course. Let me introduce you to her then. In the meantime, whatever your weekend brings I hope it brings a smile to your face and a sparkle to your eyes.

Til next time,
N

A celebration of time and friendship

Have you ever wondered who started the birthday party tradition or even why we do it?

Certainly, some people of particular faith do not indulge in such festivities and others use the occasion as a reason to party to excess. Sometimes, it seems people try to outdo each other with extravagant gifts and often over indulge children who are already well and truly bordering on the spoilt spectrum. For the most part however, we use the occasion to celebrate the person and acknowledge the positive effect they have on the lives around them.

Ancient history reveals that the exact origin of birthdays and birthday cakes remains inconclusive. In ancient Egypt the earliest known mention of a birthday celebration is around 3,000 BCE. The Greeks are also noted to have offered moon shaped cakes as a form of tribute to the lunar goddess, to recreate the radiance of the moon and her perceived beauty, they used candles and put them on cakes for a glowing effect. It is thought that the Greeks most likely took the idea of birthday celebration from the Egyptians, since just like the celebration of the pharaohs as "gods," the Greeks were celebrating their gods and goddesses.

It appears the ancient Romans were the first to celebrate birthdays for the common man but only the men! Female birthdays weren’t celebrated until around the 12th Century. Christians initially considered birthdays to be a pagan ritual and as such did not participate until the birth of Christ.

Contemporary birthday cakes were invented by German bakers around the late 18th Century and the industrial revolution brought delicious cakes to the masses.

The blowing out of candles is steeped in the pagan belief that evil spirits were present and blowing out the candles would ward them off for another year.

This year, for us at Rivergum, we have celebrated numerous birthdays, the most significant being the milestone of Daryl turning 50. We used this occasion to gather many friends and family to our home and mark the occasion with a number of parties – three in fact. Initially, Daryl was reluctant to have a party; he ummed and aahhed and couldn’t make a decision, so we stopped talking about it and I decided, with the help of some co-conspirators, to organise three ‘surprise events’. Although, I have no doubt he was getting rather suspicious by the end, I suspect he enjoyed the veil of secrecy. 

To overcome the challenge of having too many people in one location and not having the time to spend with everyone, I chose to invite a select few of Daryl’s closer friends to a small dinner at one his favourite eateries. Small, cosy, with delicious food, the company was easy and wine was flowing.

Cake number one was produced and the antique clock symbolized one of his favourite hobbies, while the subtlety of time passing by, not being missed by any of us. 

Event number two saw us travelling to the coastline and meeting our brood of children and grandchildren for a brunch by the beach. Another of Daryl’s favourite activities. This time a steam train was the cake of the day and again represented a favoured pastime of the birthday boy.

 Opportunity to play on the sand, chase the waves and search for shells in the company of our family have become treasured moments in a vast array of memories. 

With sand still in our toes, and the taste of salt strong on our lips we made our way back to the farm. Event number three was set to begin. 

The final party, a gathering of many friends, family and neighbours joined together to raise a glass, have a chat and acknowledge the contribution Daryl has made to everyone there, in one way, shape or form. The final cake, a tribute in chocolate shrouded with candles seemed a fitting end for a fiftieth birthday. After the speeches were made, and the crowds went home, it was nice to reflect on the lovely cards and messages Daryl received to mark this occasion, lots of humour about being over the hill, wrinkles and walking frames, then a few sentimental ones along with the main attraction, a pictorial book depicting Daryl’s 50 years. One hundred and sixty pages of photos and words, memories of a lifetime that cannot be replaced. Impossible to capture every moment, it really is still only a snapshot. Daryl’s 50th will continue later next month with a trip to Sydney and the opportunity to walk the Sydney Harbour Bridge, again something Daryl has always wanted to do.

For us, birthdays have always been a time to stop and celebrate. When my children were growing up we started the day with a birthday breakfast of pancakes and ice-cream with some kind of syrupy sauce to set them on their way to school. It was a wonderful tradition, although I suspect their teachers may not have thought so. More recently, we were part of the GUR group (Grown Up Retreat) a group friends who would plan to go away every couple of months, without children, and kick back and relax. Over time, people’s priorities change and the group has ceased going away together. However, two couples Daryl and I and Carol and Zac continue to celebrate birthdays in style. This past 12 months, we agreed to challenge ourselves by planning the birthday recipient’s birthday weekend without any input from them. In theory it was a test to see how well the other three parties knew them.   Easy? No! Fun? Yes! 

And we completed the fourth birthday only a few weeks ago. We started early in 2018, Daryl’s birthday being in January, he was first to enjoy a jammed packed overnight trip to Melbourne taking in the Souvlaki hut, go karts and food markets and fabulous fare along the way. Following on from a fast-paced weekend we slowed it down and booked ourselves in for some soothing sea air, in a quaint beachside hideaway. Decadently decked out with a pool table, fireplace and long lounges we enjoyed the serenity of the seaside as we celebrated Zac’s birthday. My weekend was delayed until later in the year, passed the spring date it was, as they worked to secure a special dinner booking. It was indeed a fabulous treat. Gourmet entrees and wine on the old refurbished steam train, followed by dinner and dancing in the spruced-up woolshed. A spot of shopping, meandering the quaint streets of the Dandenongs finished off the celebrations. One of the many challenges of planning weekends away is finding common time when everyone is available. Hence Carol’s birthday, fell into the new year, three months after the actual event. She didn’t seem to mind. Carol’s celebrations took us to the Yarra

Valley and we enjoyed the delights it had to offer. Breakfast at the Chocolate Factory, followed by shopping in the township of Healesville. Several tastings at the gin distillery and then several wineries, cheese platters and tempting treats at various eclectic provedores along the way, kept us all full and very merry. The weekend was capped off with high tea at Chateau Yering, an elegant old-style homestead that maintains most of the charms from yesteryear. Originally a home designed for entertaining it is steeped in tradition and a pleasure to indulge in, if in the area.

Carol’s weekend ended another series of wonderful trips. We will not be doing the birthday weekends this year. We are now focusing on the big 5.0. Daryl kicks this off in April and over the next three years we will all, we hope reach this milestone. The celebrations will not be secretive, but they will no doubt be a little indulgent and aimed at spoiling the birthday recipient in style.

Wishing you all some serious celebrations when your day arrives, no matter how big or small.


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

A fiery Friday

The final photo album has been returned to the cupboard shelf and I have hung the last photo frame to the hallway wall. The clothes, we packed, are back in their drawers and the computer, I am typing on, is one of the many valuables we chose to take when the evacuation calls came through, late on the night of Friday, January 4^th. 

The fire warnings have reduced to ‘Advice’, for now, but I continue to re -apply the masking tape holding the towels over the vents on the house, the smoke is strong and will permeate the entire house if allowed. The doors are opened only to necessitate movements in and out and the sprinklers remain active ensuring the area surrounding the house is wet. The emergency application on my phone is also set to notify me of any changes. 

This fire, which has all the signs of being deliberately lit, has changed some of our beautiful landscape forever. It has also changed us.

The Rosedale fire, as I suspect it will be known, started 6.3 kilometres from the township and quickly became a major bush fire, heading into pine plantations. Yesterday, it had burnt more than 10,000 hectares, but thankfully no homes or lives have been lost. An updated warning, just received, states the fire continues to spread towards other areas, where farmland and livestock are at risk. It is not yet under control; the winds have increased again. My heart breaks for the hundreds of firefighters, volunteers for the most part, who are risking their own lives and leaving their own families, to valiantly take on a blaze intent on ravishing the land that is crisp and dry. They are heroes in every sense of the title. 

Returning from moving the sprinklers I cannot help but notice the hundreds of burnt leaves that litter the ground, scorched and blackened they have travelled far, some of the recognizable leaves are from trees that do not grow in our area. The capacity for the fire to continue spreading from embers is very real. It is this reality that drove our decisions Friday night. 

Earlier in the day, we had enjoyed a belated birthday breakfast with friends in Traralgon, the forecast for the day was set for 43 degrees, with hot winds. It had all the making of a bad day for fires. We had then arranged to have our delightful granddaughter come home with us for a sleepover. We had plans for puzzles, making purple jelly, feeding chickens wheat and collecting bread for the cows after a trip to the beach and a play in the park, all before mum and dad came to pick her up on Saturday night after enjoying a family meal together. The jelly was made and the puzzles played but then I made the call for our precious girl to go home. It was no longer safe. 

We saw the plumes of smoke clouds as we drove home and commented, with some concern, on the increasing size of the fire but remained secure in that it was quite a long way from our farm and heading in the opposite direction. We knew the firefighters where already there and anticipated they would have it under control. But severe winds, fueled the flames and by early evening the skies had blackened over our property and ash was falling on our heads. 

Earlier in the afternoon, with temperatures hovering in the low 40s it was stifling outside, fiercely the sun beat down and hot sweat poured off Daryl’s body as he rounded up the cattle from our morass and pushed them up to higher ground. An ember in our bushland would be disastrous. So, we flooded the chicken and alpaca’s pen with water, allowing them to wallow in the mud to cool off, set the sprinkler to full-speed and watched skywards with heavy hearts, beating faster than usual. 

Checking on neighbours, some older, some solo, another with two small children, it was heartening to see everyone work together to ensure we were all safe. By 10pm the hostile winds had turned and another fire, started by falling embers was now heading in our direction. The ‘watch and act’ warning was now upgraded. This was not expected and the conversations of the previous hours heralded us into action. It was now time to gather our valuables and get out. Adrenaline is your friend in times of trauma, as is modern technology and people power. We were comforted by the many calls and messages of help received from family and friends, it is comforting to know people care. We needed to make decisions, fast, and all of a sudden it seemed too hard. How do you determine what is valuable, what can I leave behind? This is our home and we had the luxury of time to ponder and consider. The fire front was still far enough away from us and so the urgency lessened, giving us an opportunity to grab photos frames, albums put together long before the age of digital photography and the iCloud. These would be irreplaceable. Filling the cars with our goods, we cramped the two cats indignantly into a small cat cage, made for one, along with the three dogs, ready to pick up Bek from work and head to our son and daughter-in-law’s home in the next town, knowing we were leaving our cattle, chooks and alpacas at the mercy of Mother Nature. Embracing Daryl before jumping into separate cars, the tears we both shed blended together, and we knew we would have to come back and protect them. This farm, with nearly fifty years of memories, refuses to let us go. In an instant I knew I didn’t want to lose it, if I had the choice. As we drove away, I prayed we would have the chance to make that choice. 

A sleepless night followed, I served up some food at 2 am and we listened and watched. Mother Nature must have heard us and the wind turned the fire away from us. We breathed a little easier. Yesterday, saw a neighborhood of fatigued farmers continue to be vigilant, we kept the cars packed, just in case. We talked about our good fortune. Daryl and I pondered what we would do differently, if there is ever a next time. We slept like rocks.

The fire still burns and at Daryl’s last calculation the front is three kilometers from the river that is the boundary of our farm. Maybe, I should have left the cars packed.

Until next time,

N.

Clouded view

A better view

Yesterday was my sixth day off work, not by choice. Most of the time I have spent the days hazy and tired from an array of painkillers. Feels like I've been taken back in time before my left hip was replaced. Unable to walk without a limp, unable to stand for any length of time and limited in my capacity to function without pain relief. The plan was for the right hip to be monitored and stabilised reducing as much deterioration as possible over the course of the next few years. My left hip was replaced with a shiny ceramic one three years ago, my right hip was to last five years - we are one and half years short of the plan.

I am not impressed. When I took this job, eight months ago I was relieved knowing that I would not be required to be on my feet all day. It would give me a balance of desk work, people engagement, autonomy and team, doing a job I enjoy. I didn't count on my body breaking down. Damn inconsiderate if you ask me.

And so I am fighting between bursts of energy whereby I burn the candle at both ends, frustrate my husband, as I try to achieve everything in a limited time before I crash and burn. Taking things to extreme as I occasionally do, I did crash only the other day, literally, into a 'speed bump' sign on my way home from work. Nothing like a message from the unknown - speed bump indeed.

I have one more week of work, five days to get a month's worth of work completed before I take some time off.  Chances of getting everything done are slim, I know, the job is ridiculous, but I will pretend it is possible. At least for the moment.

Looking outside the window I see spattering of rain on the window, I hear the wind howling around me and I can smell the dampness in the air. Forecasts for torrential rain and damaging storms are all around us, we are only getting the edges, barely enough to wet the ground. Annoying more than useful. Unfortunately the other parts of the state and indeed interstate are being battered about with flash flooding and homes damaged. This is also unhelpful and I hope everyone is able to stay safe.

Thankfully, we are not spending this weekend in the city as we did a fortnight ago given the weather would have dampened a few days of relaxation. Instead we enjoyed perfect conditions, to enjoy a surprise Bon Jovi concert, shop for some Christmas treats, explore another escape room  and even ventured to the roof top pool of our hotel for a paddle in between sampling a range of culinary delights. This is when the frustration of my hip really kicked in. The intensity of the pain was so severe we needed to find a doctor in the CBD on a Sunday morning. From this point we have not quite recovered.

Conversations about selling stock, buying feed, leasing, agisting, selling are frequent and again frustrating. Couple this with discussions and debates about our pending English adventure and sometimes its easier to bury your head into a good book, watch a lame sitcom or troll the pages of Facebook until your mind is numb. Or, as is my reality at present, take enough painkillers and you can be numb all over - physically, emotionally and academically. Makes getting anything completed near impossible.

With the end of the year on our doorstep I find myself reflecting and contemplating. Change again is raising its head and I'm at a loss.

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