Country Life
Sometimes, windows are my eyes
November 3, 2011
Views from my windows
Last week, after many power outages and surges, the microwave blew up closely followed by the TV. I’m not casting any aspersions that the power caused the demise of my two electrical appliances, but it does seem coincidental.
We rarely watch TV and I thought I hardly used the microwave… However not two days after the microwave died, there was a new one on my bench. It seems I often forget to get the meat out of the freezer, and as tea gets closer the microwave gets overworked defrosting it. “You could be more organised,” I hear you say? Yep. I could be.
The TV hasn’t yet been replaced. I’m not sure what that says about us, but there you go!
Last night, however, I had a chocolate-like craving to flop in front of the TV and watch something that didn’t require my concentration. What makes something you can’t have become so appealing?
Anyway, it got me thinking. I’ve since likened TV to windows. We look through rectangular screens to see what is happening on the other side.
I have a gorgeous pink bottle-brush tree outside my office window and I often see Honey Eaters (or Mickey Minors) dancing among the branches; their beaks deep in the wattle blossoms.
The Honey Eaters are also brilliant guard dogs. The amount of noise they make if a snake is around (even if I haven’t seen it) will send me rushing for the shovel.
Our dogs don’t like being apart from us and while I was doing the dishes a few weeks ago, Weasel’s head suddenly appeared at the kitchen window to say “Hi!” That made me laugh.
Windows are particularly versatile. Unlike TV, you can see through from both sides. Rocket’s favourite spot, when we are outside and he is inside, is peering out the office window wishing he was with us.
Of course, windows can be used as mirrors and I have caught the kids doing the wrong (and occasionally the right) thing, by sitting in the lounge and watching their reflections in the window. It gives a whole new meaning to the ‘eyes in the back of your head’ saying.
So my windows provide me with more than enough entertainment and I doubt that our TV will get replaced much before the cricket season. Of course we will need a new on then to watch the Aussies roll the New Zealanders.
I wonder what views you guys have outside your window? I’d love to see some of them uploaded to my Facebook page.
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Hay, bales of hay!
October 26, 2011
Making Round Hay Bales
Making hay is one of the fun things about the farm … unless you get hay fever, like I do!
For the last few weeks I’ve been sneezing my head off and will continue to do so until harvest has finished.
Rye grass, grain dust, normal dust and ‘fines’ (minuscule particles of hay) send me into a world of itchy throats, weeping eyes and sneezes!
But I still love watching the hay being made and if I keep up with my medication, I can actually rake the hay for the boss.
The baler trundles along eating the rows of freshly-raked hay. Inside, the machine wraps it into a tight bale before covering it with netwrap and flicking it out the back.
When it looks like this, the cows do their utmost to break into the paddocks or storage facility!
Tags: The Sunny Cowgirls & the Esperance show
October 22, 2011
Rochelle with Celeste from The Sunny Cowgirls
I heard the other day, through some form of media that people seem to think that the Agricultural Shows are dying.
I beg to differ.
Yesterday The Boss donned his good clothes, the kids counted their pocket money and I packed my camera and we drove the 100km to the Esperance & Districts Agricultural show. This year’s show was a bit special. It was the 60th anniversary.
Our families have a long history with shows, whether it’s mine through the Orroroo show as a kid, The Boss’s showing cattle, sheep and carcass competitions as a kid and then us collectively together.
As a younger couple, perhaps with a bit more time than we have now, we loved to get out of bed at four in the morning and get our various stock into the pens at the show. The atmosphere was excitement, anticipation, the smells; cooking donuts, fresh manure and the sounds, bellowing stock, kids laughter, and the music from sideshow alley.
To us, the show isn’t about sideshow alley – although it does get a look in. It’s about being in the sheds with animals (The Boss even used to show chooks!), it’s looking at the exhibits and seeing all that our district has to offer, because the show is the window to our community.
Being the 60th anniversary, there were some major events happening. One that attracted the attention of Rochelle and I was The Sunny Cowgirls singing before the fireworks last night. We made plans to be there, but we’re hay making at the moment and the forecast is for big rains tomorrow. We decided to skip the concert and be bright for work on Saturday morning. Needless to say, that we were disappointed.
But as it happens, The Sunny Cowgirls are not only gorgeous, but generous and lovely too! Rochelle and I were able to meet one half of them as I dropped a copy of Red Dust off to them, just before they headed to a sound-check. We had a bit of a giggle because as I handed over Red Dust, Celeste told me that both Soph and she had already read it!
So a few photos later and a good wishes for the night, we departed, Rochelle giggling her head off, as she was so star-struck and me slightly similar!
If you haven’t heard their music then I suggest to click here and head to the music tab to take a listen!
Thanks to the Esperance and Districts Agricultural Society for another awesome show. In our neck of the woods, the show is by no means, dying!
Celeste -The Sunny Cowgirls & Fleur McDonald
The scent of hay
October 14, 2011
The Esperance Show is next Friday and Saturday and without fail we are usually making hay.
Many years ago, we would be showing lambs or involved with the carcass competition (both cattle and sheep), but good quality hay is now more important that anything else. Especially when the season cuts in early like it has the last few years.
So the good ole green and gold John Deere tractors and mowers are now in the paddock cutting both oaten and pasture hay. We put our first bale out yesterday and things are looking good for many more to come. The cows are always very excited to see a full haystack at the beginning of summer!
I love the evening at this time of the year too; the warm days usually cool down at night and the colours of the crops ripening against the evening sky always fill me with wonder. It doesn’t matter how many times I see this sight, I just love it, especially when the scent of freshly mown grass wafts up to the house. I have to admit, I don’t like what I know is coming — hot weather! I’m not a summer girl.
So once the hay is made, we’ll be starting to swathe the canola, and then harvest the barley. Enough to keep us out of mischief, without the edits for Purple Roads, which I’ll have back next week, or planning for Silver Gums, which I’ve already started and am very excited about.
So if I’m quiet for a while, you’ll know why.
And the thunder rolls…
October 12, 2011
Weather is such an interchangeable thing. And sometimes it changes within minutes.
The boss came home for lunch today – a luxury at this time of year, what with hay making, shearing and lambs to weigh, all in the next twenty four hours. After a cup of tea and a chat, he wandered back out to his ute, Rochelle and I in tow, only to be met by dark, thunderous looking clouds.
‘Don’t think it will get us,’ says the boss. ‘The sea breeze won’t let it come in.’
I nodded, waved him on his way and went to do some of my own jobs. All the while, the sky became darker and darker.
I should have had my camera; there were some fantastic photo opportunities, but of course I’d left it behind.
Then the thunder sounded, so it was time to head home and settle the troops – Hayden in particular gets worried about thunder.
‘We’ve got to bring Meita inside, Mum. What if she’s hit by lightening and killed?’ he asked.
Unlikely.
‘Meita doesn’t need to come inside, she’s a dog.’
‘She needs to, she really, really needs to.’
‘Oh, whatever guys.’
They shot off to get her and before long I had a Jack Russell and a pup playing at my feet, chewing everything in sight, including my toes and barking madly. All of which made it nearly impossible to work!
I ordered that Meita return quick smart to the kennel, which thankfully they agreed with and Hayden left the house with the pup tucked under his arm… Then I heard a blood curdling shriek.
‘SNAKE!’
Of course.
I dealt with that, while the thunder rumbled all around and the rain fell and came back in to keep going with my work.
Somehow, the pup had reappeared, so I gave up and went to take some photos! The top one is the view from my office window afterwards – I love the way the hill glistens and all the bush looks like it’s been washed.
The other, is looking over the barley crop at the front of the house.
Reports are coming out of lots of hail, which has decimated crops and one of my friends, just to the north of us, had 65mm! We might have had a couple of mm if that, which we’re pretty happy about since we’ve been cutting hay for the last week.
Meita learns about sheep: A children’s story
October 8, 2011
Once upon a time, there was a very cute pup named Meita.
She lived on a farm that had lots of sheep. She didn’t know that one day it was going to be her job to chase them so mostly she had a lot of fun running around and playing with some human children and a Jack Russell.
One day, her owner decided it was time for Meita to get her first glance at sheep.
‘Bloody hell,’ Meita thought, as she was lifteddown from the ute and onto the ground. ‘I have no idea what those woolly looking things are, but geez they smell good.’ She put her nose in the air and had a good sniff before she realised something smelt even better on the ground… Poo!
‘Yum,’ she thought and started to tuck in.
‘No, Meita,’ the boss said.
‘But why?’ questioned Meita. ‘It’s tastes soooo yummy.’
‘No poo eating on this farm! Come on, it’s time to chase some sheep. Law will show you what to do.’
“Really?’ asked Meita in a questioning tone. ‘He seems like such a grumpy bugger. Okay, so what do we do? What do we do? What do we do?’ It was so exciting!
‘Kid, it aint so much fun when you’ve been doing it for eight years,’ Law muttered, as he started to run behind the ewes.
‘Oh is this what we do? Just run? Okay, I’ll just follow you,’ Meita said and trotted off behind Law.
But there were too many new things and Meita found it hard to concerntrate. There were new smells, things to chew, fun to be had.
And being so little she found it very hard to see where she should be. So she decided to use Law as a lookout, but he really didn’t seem that keen. She couldn’t understand why, it was fun standing on her back legs and using him to steady herself.
The boss decided that this wasn’t getting the work done. Meita was distracting Law and the sheep wouldn’t walk back to their paddock.
Meita was a bit upset when the Boss put her back in the ute. She thought she’d been doing a great job.
But then again, she thought, it’s warm in here and I can have a sleep if I need to… Or watch the sheep sitting on the boss’s lap. Ah, now that last idea has merit!
Dads and Daughters
October 2, 2011
Every daughter has a special relationship with her father. Mine is no different. I love my Dad to the moon and back and I’m so proud of what he has achieved in his life and the obstacles he’s had to over come to do it.
A few weeks ago, Mum and Dad flew to Alice Springs to be there when Jeff Ogilvy was inducted into the Shell Rimula Wall of Fame. Jeff worked for Dad for 27 years and was the first triple road train driver in Australia. When I was a kid, Jeff was always in a truck or around the depot, and more recently he’s been on the end of the phone telling me stories of his driving days, which has helped me write Purple Roads.
Jeff also has six beautiful daughters. One of them, Shane, is a year older than me and I had a continuing dual with her, while at primary school. A dual called The Cross Country! She always managed to beat me.
Last year, Dad was inducted into the Wall of Fame – I wish you could read this newspaper article from The Northern Argus, that Mum sent to me but I’ll just mention a few of Dad’s achievements:
“1981 he was awarded an Advance Australia Award for his work in developing the transport industry in outback areas.
He (according to Ampol) had the longest fuel run in the world, covering SA, WA, South-west QLD and North-west of NSW.
He totally designed and manufactured the first skeletal trailers with fuel tanks front and back and with a tray in the centre
In the 1980’s Parnell Transport Industry, was selected by the Australian Road Research Board to be involved in a practical research project on which the requirements of operations of triple roadtrains were developed.”
There are so many more.
Of course behind every good man is a good woman and Mum is the best – supportive, unconditional and always there. I’d get up early when I was young, and the light in the back room would still be on. Stumbling out to see what was going on, mum would be sitting at the dining room table, surrounded by account books.
But they both say that there is no way they could have operated such a successful business without the help of employees like Jeff.
I’m so thrilled that two incredible men, pioneers in the trucking business, have been recognised and rewarded for their work.
A rude awakening
October 1, 2011
Yesterday was busy to say the least. But then again, it seems that’s the norm in my world and has been for many years!
We’ve got over one thousand prime lambs ready to leave this morning and tomorrow. We’re also (still) shearing and the hay is nearly ready to be cut – time for me to start taking hay fever tablets and wonder how we will get through this next period of time.
This morning, when the boss left at 5am to load the truck, I though lay in bed, thinking how wonderful it was not to have to get up before 5:30am, for a change. As I lay there, I thought about my edits for Purple Roads and made a few decisions about a change in the plot.
Then the phone rang. It couldn’t be good news. I imagined the lambs had escaped the confines of the yards and were now scattered in every direction around the farm – any farmer will know that escapees, when you have a truck arriving in ten minutes time, is not good.
I didn’t bother to say hello, just: ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Where are the keys to the front gate?’
‘Ah, they would be in my ute.’
‘Best you get them out here.’
‘Right.’
I threw on some clothes, pulled my boots on and ran out the door. I stopped as I saw the view – a beautiful foggy morning, with the sun just rising. I should grab my camera, I thought briefly, before hitting the key and racing off down the road in my ute.
Of course, today was the day when I could have taken oodles of photos. The sun’s rays had the trees glistening in just the ‘right’ way, the fog fuzzily framed the stock and everything was just perfect.
I knew it wasn’t going to be as good by the time I got home, but here is a tiny piece of my morning.
My new editor
September 22, 2011
I’m lucky enough to have a writing partner. He’s pretty good at what he does; he keeps my feet warm, doesn’t answer back and sits there with his head to one side listening to me argue with myself about plot points.
It seems that I often bore him though. That’s when he will lie down and go to sleep in the narrow slither of sun that filters through the window.
Of course there are times like this morning, when there was a rabbit and a chook just within reach, when he is awake and alert and thinking, “If that damned window wasn’t in the way…” His barking and growling give me fodder for my stories.
In all the time I’ve been writing though, he’s never once tried to write the story for me — so this morning when I came into the office and found him sitting on my chair peering at the manuscript for Purple Roads, I could do nothing but laugh.
Stop and smell the (canola) flowers
September 17, 2011
I’m not sure why it’s heart wrenching, incomprehensible tragedies that make us stop and look at our lives – I don’t understand why we can’t see what we have until something happens. Why have I enjoyed the hugs I’ve had from my children more this week than others? Why couldn’t I appreciate the smiles they’ve given me instead of flashing them a quick half-hearted one as I rush through the house on a mission to do something that didn’t really matter?
I wrote this article earlier this year for a magazine that had a focus on suicide and depression. Maybe (I hope) it will make you stop and smell the flowers.
“It’s not like the old days. Nothing is any more is it? Thank goodness I don’t have to wash the clothes by hand or carry water from the creek! There’s so many things I’m thankful to avoid that my Nana had to tolerate when she settled with my grandfather on “Glenroy” in the mid-north of South Australia. It’s been in our family since the early1800’s. And my mother is thrilled for me now to not have to spend the evenings returning phone calls and organising the next days work like she did. As often as I curse the modern tie that is the mobile phone, I’m pleased we can turn it off in the evening and enjoy our family meal together. Well, in theory anyway.
Our lives seem to hurtle along at an unstoppable pace sometimes, propelled by the modern “conveniences” that seem to throw us the challenge to switch off and take a break. Every night I try to watch the gorgeous sunsets, and remember to take note of the bird laughing at itself in the side mirror of the ute, like we had last week. As a writer, it is important to me to look for the details of our farming life, and I often photograph these things to preserve them for my minds eye – you never know when you might need them. The best part about carrying the camera, is that it makes me stop and breathe, and no matter how fleetingly, forget about the puddle that is our drying dam, the dwindling stock numbers and the pressures of lambing percentages, higher crop yields and improved wool production. With a photographers eye, I can look for the beauty in our unique landscape. It’s the same view, just a different perspective.
When the modern demands make my head whirl, I often think of Nana and the leisurely way that she and Papa lived their lives, farming the station country. My husband and I own 8,000 acres on the south coast of Western Australia and it consumes a lot of our leisure and rest time. It’s a very different life to my grandparents.
We’ve just returned from a well-earned break to visit my family at Glenroy. It was the first family holiday for 16 years, and it was so much fun to do the things we did as kids when Nana and Papa were in control. We wandered down to the creek to lite a fire. We boiled the billy and shared some biscuits for smoko. Papa always stopped marking or drafting in the yards at 9.30am when Nana appeared with a basket full of sponge cake and sausage rolls. Everything seemed to be calm and measured. I guess they had the same worries that we face today – after all, it’s the same stuff, just happening to a different generation isn’t it? After four pretty tough seasons, endlessly hand-feeding stock, eyeing the cloudless skies and running in seemingly ever-decreasing circles, I have to remind myself to look for the beauty.
We hadn’t realised how getting off our own place, even though just for a week, gave us the distance and change of scenery we yearned, and a chance to stop and smell the flowers – and the scones. We’ve determined now to take our early morning coffee outside when we can breathe the brisk air. Even though we know at some stage we’ll be dragging our heels – there’ll always be something to be thankful for, and to photograph. Recently it’s been eyeing the little clover seeds pushing up, and the smell of rain on the dusty soil.
When things get too tough for me outside, it’s a pleasure to bury myself in writing, where I can make it rain or have the cattle eating green grass that is a foot high. It’s my escape and I’m not sure that I would have dealt with the 2008 drought as well as I did, if I couldn’t disappear inside my fictional world for a time.
2008 saw us agist over eight hundred cows across the state of WA, some nearly eight hours drive away, when we ran short of water and hay. Because of that and previous bad seasons, I know how soul destroying it is to hand-feed stock day after day, with nothing but blue skies and northerly winds for company. Skinny cattle and poor sheep tear at your heart, because contrary to some beliefs, farmers actually care for their animals.
That’s why it is so important to have an outlet. My husband’s is fishing. There is a tranquillity at the beach which would send him home calm and ready to make decisions.
2008 and late breaks every year since has made us stop and smell the flowers – even if it’s only the Canola. It chases away the demons that try plague us when things aren’t going well.”
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