Photos
Guest blog: Bush Babe of Oz
November 27, 2011
I’m really pleased to have Bush Babe from Oz blogging with me today. She’s a Rainbow.
She’s an awesome gal, photographer, worker and mum. We met through the Australia (or rather world)-shrinking device of Twitter; I was drawn to her beautiful photography and she was drawn by my… Well actually I’m not sure. I don’t think she’s ever told me! Whatever the reason I’m really happy to be able to call her a friend.
While you’re over checking out her blog (which has amazing photos, and laugh-out-loud blog tales) have a look at her 2012 calendar. You might still be able to order one or two, but if you miss out, I’ll have them in my gift pack, which is coming soon.
Anyhow, here’s how she came to be on a station ‘somewhere in Queensland”. Oh, and you can follow her over at Twitter here: @BushBabeofOz
My husband and I had had an interesting start to married life – within four years we had both had high-flying jobs, become parents to two gorgeous kids, given one job up to care for an extremely sick baby boy, watched him endure two heart surgeries, and bought and renovated a old house. Apparently we don’t like relaxing very much.
SO our decision to ‘Go Bush’ may have shocked our city friends, but actually came after great deliberation on our part.
It wasn’t like I went in with my eyes closed – I had grown up on the cattle property to which I was returning more than two decades after leaving, and I fully expected our move from city to country life to be a shock to my system. I expected it to be quite hard to adjust to the lack of amenities, of entertainment, of social and medical networks. I knew that mobile phone reception would be an intermittent luxury in my life, and that political heavyweights could not be expected to drop by for smoko, let alone make services to my new location a real priority.
Some friends questioned our sanity at leaving our regular wages and the security of our city home. Some called me a romantic fool, and to be honest, I wondered if they were right?
Despite all this, after a couple of years of considering then another of planning, I thought I was mentally and physically ready to cope with taking my young family from the embrace of The Big Smoke to the Wilds of the Australian Bush. I braced myself.
What I didn’t expect, and was really not prepared for, was that I would fall in love. And it wasn’t a gentle floating feeling, my new relationship with the place I grew up. I fell hard. And fast. And spectacular. It astonished me, how utterly beautiful it was. I had forgotten. Or maybe I had never quite noticed properly for a start.
I left this place as a teenager with a fire in my belly and a yearning in my soul for new experiences and new places. I spent my years away exploring the world and (in that navel-gazing manner that only those in their 20s can properly master) ‘discovering myself’. I arrived home, set down my suitcases and looked around myself in wonder.
I know many people talk about making a “tree change” in their lives – finding a simpler, quieter alternative to the rat race they have grown to resent, and even hate. We were not like that. I had always enjoyed my city years – loved the big country town I had studied at, the major rural centre I had done my apprenticeship as a news photographer in, adored the sprawling coastal city that had nurtured me and given me so many incredible experiences as a reporter and as a resident, and revelled in the capital city that had allowed me to find my amazing husband, to discover a new career and to cater for the arrival of my children.
My father is a man of great determination and persuasion, a cattleman who could never imagine why anyone would want a life other than the one he loved, who never gave up on the idea that his eldest daughter was ‘just going through a bit of a phase’. He knew that I would eventually see reason and move back home. My husband turned out to be a frustrated bushie – having grown up on a farm and chafing at the 12-hour desk-bound shifts he worked. Our son was born with some serious heart issues – problems that were ‘fixed’ in his first year of life. But that year – where I gave up my career to care of him – changed my outlook on life completely. I became a mother, not just in the sense that I had given birth (although Lord knows that amazed me enough) but in that my world now revolved around my family. Life was no longer about me. And each decision I made became about them. It was a new outlook that only intensified as my daughter arrived into the world, all dimples and ‘go get ‘em’ attitude.
As we watched these two cherubs grow into ‘real little people’, we considered schools and the future for our offspring. And we soon added another option into the equation: The Bush. A place where we could bring up our children the way WE had been raised – exploring, riding, learning outdoors. Where WE could be the major influence in their lives. I think it was news of a kidnapping at a nearby school that tipped us over the brink towards moving – we knew how lucky we were to have the opportunity to be there, and figured the added bonus of having plenty of cousins living nearby our potential new/old home sealed it.
We knew we would have to face the pressures that go hand-in-hand with country life: long distances, higher prices for essential goods, poorer health services, the heartache of seeing bad weather adversely affect our animals and income. All these things weighed heavily. And yet…
Arriving home…
It was drought-stricken when we drove down the winding dirt road towards the house I grew up in. It was Christmas Eve 2006, and the familiar landscaped was utterly sucked dry of colour. Sepia and dust. But the gentle arms of the graceful gum trees standing on the last ridge seemed to welcome us, as did the soft breeze that cooled our faces as we stepped out of the red-dust coated car. Home.
And as we unloaded the removal trucks, unpacked our mountains of luggage and celebrated Christmas with cousins… it began to rain. It was (to my exhausted but happy mind) the final seal of approval from Mother Nature. I’m not sure a city person can really know the true joy of rain – or experience the spontaneous invisible lifting of spirits that takes place in a bush homestead as heavy drops beat out their own rhythmic music on the corrugated iron roof. It’s quite amazing to experience: a fizzy feeling, like champagne in the veins.
Bush Babe of Oz
My Nikon was finally unpacked – my old ‘tool of the trade’ from my journalism days. And my trigger finger began to itch. At first the photo taking was random – the kids posing on a gate here, frolicking in the mud there. A roo posing on a ridge here, my Dad lifting my son in front of the saddle for a quick ride there. And then I couldn’t stop. The potential photo opportunities filled my vision – the delicate beauty of rain on a gum leaf, the raw power of a sunset behind bottle tree silhouettes, the bizarre goose-stepping antics of a group of emus. As my husband now often comments/complains:
‘If it hasn’t been photographed round here, it just hasn’t happened’.
There was no outlet for this flood of images – except the unfortunate friends whose inboxes were all filled with photo-laden emails from me. I believe I was actually responsible for completely freezing a couple of accounts with my regular updates from the bush. Oh dear!
Inviting the world in…
My sister came to the rescue – she’s a blogger, you see. Now I had always thought of blogging (where someone shares their thoughts/opinions/images on a webpage known as a web-log) as ‘unnecessary sharing’. Really, who needs to read about the lives of someone you have never met? Share the intimate details of a person you may not even like in real life? She patiently explained that blogging is whatever you make it. She shared her own blog, which is witty and clever and funny. She also showed me a fabulous blog called ‘Confessions of a Pioneer Woman’ – filled with amazing images and witty observations of a mother on the other side of the world.
And I looked at my hard drive, overflowing with images no-one ever got to see, reflections of a truly amazing place… and suddenly I felt selfish. Surely the beauty I saw every single day around me needed to be shared? Even if only my mother and my sister ever looked, at least I would have done SOMETHING with the hundreds of photos I was taking.
So, in 2007, I began my blog. I christened this obscure little corner of internet real estate “Bush Babe” – Bush cause that’s where I live, and Babe because I had NO idea about anything internet-y (like a babe in the woods!). Plus I like alliteration. In retrospect, it wasn’t my smartest move – I hadn’t considered that people in North America might think it a political name. Or that those with less worthy tastes might find me on a Google search. Goodness gracious me! Luckily, the latter soon realise the only bare body bits to be seen belonged to bovines, and clicked off quick smart. Heh. *Cracks an imaginary whip above head*
Today this little ‘blog of mine draws around 300 hits a day, from people all over the world. It never fails to amaze me that people are interested enough in my world to keep on coming back – but they do. I share our landscapes, events like bush races, local campdrafts, the musters and explain the more technical processes employed on a cattle operation, like artificial insemination and embryo transfer. I show the marvellous events put on by our tiny one-teacher school, and introduce each character we live with (human, equine and canine). I even ask my visitors to help me decide on images for my annual Bush Calendar.*
I have yet to discover the ‘quiet country life’ so often imagined by my city friends – a demanding business, an endless stream of (very welcome) visitors and ever-ringing (landline) phone, not to mention the endless list of animals that require attention – ensures my life is more hectic than ever before.
I cannot imagine life without blogging, just as I cannot visualise my world being based anywhere but the Australian bush. I am constantly amazed and reassured (through those who visit my blog) that people the world over share the same things – a desire for happiness, to revel in good family relationships, to see their children grow strong and confident, and to be in touch with Nature. It matters not whether they are in New York city, in an Alaskan town, the Swiss Alps, a South African high-rise, a New Zealand farm or somewhere else in the vast Australian countryside.
My community are those who share the wonderful piece of Terra Australis where I base my life, those who inhabit the nearby small towns and whose spirits are larger and more colourful that the few streets that bound them, and those from around the globe who see the magic here too and visit virtually.
You can call me a romantic fool. And I would usually be the first to agree. But as I contemplate the view from my patio now, of children running madly with a puppy and horses grazing contentedly on a ridge to the east, I don’t think I have ever done anything less foolish in my life…
*The 2012 Bush Calendar is available from Amanda’s blog: www.bushbabeofoz.com
10% of profits will be donated to HeartKids Australia.
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Frustration at it’s best (or worst!)
November 10, 2011
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a start to the thunderstorm season like the one we’ve had this year! If you go back to a previous couple of blogs, you’ll read that we have had about 40mm over the last week or so. Well you can make that about 50mm now!
The sheep always camp up when there is a storm due – you can learn a lot about the weather by watching nature and it’s creatures. They will know something is going to happen, long before us humans do. These sheep have made themselves comfortable on a dam bank as one of the weekends’ storms roll through.
sheep huddle around the dam
Tuesday night we had a massive storm with ferocious lightening, and thunder that just about lifted us from our beds. And rain. When we awoke, the sky was blue and not a cloud in it – or so we thought from looking out of the bedroom window.
After a coffee, the boss thought he was awake enough to venture out to the rain gauge. While he was out there I started making the lunches – only to be interrupted by the power going out and a huge clap of thunder. I curiously looked towards the window, then I saw it.
Even though the sky behind me was blue, towards the coast was black. As the cloud moved in, the brightness of the morning faded, but not before I snapped this shot of the brilliant bougainvilleas with the cloud barring down on us.
Bouganvillia, blue skies & thunderstorms
I think this harvest is going to be very frustrating.
Tags: Home is where the heart is
July 17, 2011
I’ve written before about the depth of my South Australian roots. They are especially entrenched on the station that has been in my family since the 1800s.
It’s hard to describe how much the landscape is burned into my soul: the old ruins, the creeks that criss-cross the land, the ‘casha’ or Acacia trees that are exactly the same colour as the kangaroos, and the enormous gum trees which must be hundreds of years old with trunks so large that three people couldn’t get their arms around them.
I find the timelessness of the Flinders Ranges incredible. Even though it’s the same age as where I live in Esperance, our country was only cleared and settled in the early 1950s, so it’s still young.
In the mid-north of South Australia, I can see and touch the history: the ruins, the broken old sheepyards etc. The trees that lace the creeks are the same ones my great-grandfather would have looked out on, and the Ranges still catch the sun and glow pink and red the way they would have in the early 1900s.
Some might say I feel so strongly because I grew up there, and others might say it’s because I don’t live there any more. Whatever the reason, these photos will have to be enough for me for the next year or so.
You can see more photos of my trip here.
Things that make go, hmm!
January 8, 2011
I’m continually amazed at what I see in the sea, on the beaches or in National Parks, around Esperance. I guess coming from the mid-north of South Australia, I was pretty used to seeing Kangaroos, Emus and the odd King Brown snake, but we never saw anything different or exciting!
Yesterday, at one of the main beaches, in Esperance, I watched a shark swim around the jetty, in maybe three feet of water – I was both excited and scared when I saw how shallow the water was, where it was swimming. I’m not much of a beach swimmer and I think I’ve just been put off for life!
The kids and I also watched two sea lions, frolic and fight for their tea. When one of them grabbed a fish, the other would chase it, in and around the jetty pilings, causing us to run from one side of the jetty, to the other and gasp with delight at their antics. The seagulls, of course, had to be involved and launched air attacks, trying to steal the fish, from their mouths.
Then there was a big ole seal, which was flopped on the beach, just under the local café/caravan that’s parked on the beach. I have to say, I wondered if he was alive and I asked Rochelle if she would like to poke him. He must have heard me, because as I finished the question, he raised his head, looked straight at us and flopped down, with a snort! He obviously didn’t appreciate my question!
That was just yesterday, but I’ve seen sting rays, echidnas, strange and dangerous snakes, different types of fish and I think of the most amazing things I’ve seen was a large tree trunk, which had fallen off a ship, and washed up on our local beach. It was wider than me, taller than me and about eighty feet long. I’ve often wondered where it came from and how long it took to get pushed ashore, on our beach.
Walking on the Rock!
October 11, 2010
Well, it’s not “Raining on the Rock” (John Williamson http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7IcgPdppG_k ) but we’ve been walking on the rock!
On a cooler day, we thought it was safe enough to go for a bit of an explore. The hill is basically made from granite, with crevices of soil that allow native pines, and all sorts of bush, to grow on parts of it.
You can see marks, where the water seeps down when it rains, but I’ve never seen anything that would resemble a waterfall – just water coming from seemly nowhere, oozing its way down the hill.
We clambered all over this huge rock, marveling at its eco system (while hoping not to see any of its native reptiles aka tiger snakes or death adders). The Wedge Tail eagles that soar above us, when we are at the house, still seemed as far away from the top of the hill, as when we were below.
But we did see these beautiful wild flowers and although they were blooming with vigor then, two days of above 30 degrees has almost finished our season – the grass has put up the seed heads, the canola has turned from a bright yellow to a gray/green, the pods in place of flowers and the wild flowers seem to think their time is up too. Summer is on its way.
Peaceful… or not
August 21, 2010
I’m guessing that many of you think that living on a farm is peaceful. Quiet. Well let me tell you otherwise!
It was a gorgeous morning. We’d had a heavy shower the night before, which had netted us 8mm, so we were smiling! The trees and grass were weighted down with rain and everything was sparkling with dew-drop diamonds.
As I opened my eyes first thing, I listened to the birds singing. That’s a regular occurrence, but this morning, they were singing louder than normal. I could pick a few calls – Wattle birds, Butcher bird. There was a Magpie in the mix and the little Silver Eyes were really going for it!
I wondered outside with my morning coffee and could hear the next farms’ cattle bellowing. I guess they’re doing some cattle work that involves splitting the cows and calves, because it was a panicked, ‘Where’s my baby,’ type of bellow!
I could hear stock trucks rumbling along the road and for a moment, worried that they might be turning in our driveway – the truck carting our lambs, wasn’t due until Wednesday. I could even hear our neighbours dogs barking. (They live a good three or four kilometers away from us!)
Anthony, Shaun and I started our day in the sheep yards and we were also splitting mums and babies, but ours were sheep. The noise was unbelievable! In all the time I’ve worked with stock, I don’t think I’ve heard a louder mob of ewes! I was standing about ten metres away from Anthony and I couldn’t hear what he was saying! (It’s quite funny when you can see their lips moving and hand actions, but not hear anything!)
So today, the farm was far from peaceful – this photo, really tells lies!
ABIA Awards
June 28, 2010
It’s been such a busy time for us recently, with seeding, sheep work and all sorts of other things on the go! It will be like this until after Christmas now with hay making, shearing and later, harvest.
We’ve been lucky enough to have good rains and everything seems to be on track for a good season.
The weather has been freezing and as you can see by this photo, the skies have been far from blue this week – although as I sit and write this, it’s shaping up for a cold but clear day!
I had a phone call from my publisher late Friday afternoon, asking if she thought I could be in Sydney by Wednesday for the ABIA awards. Red Dust is a finalist in the Newcomers/Debut section and oh, how I’d love to go – the powerhouses of the industry would be there along with the writers, the opportunities… the list goes on!
But after a hurried discussion and thoughts about what we have to do this week, I’ve been sad to decline the invitation. However, I really want to wish all of the A&U authors good luck – and there’s quite a few of them. Fellow WA author Craig Silvey is among them with his amazing book, Japser Jones.
Allen and Unwin themselves are up for the award of Publisher of the Year and I have to say after working with them for three years now, they deserve every award and accolade available. Allen and Unwin run their business thinking all their staff are ‘family’ and it shows. Everyone I have dealt with has been passionate, helpful and love what they do. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
Why I live where I live
June 28, 2010
Every Sunday morning, on ABC radio, Macca has a segment called, ‘Why I live where I live.’ Well I think I’ve talked about this last few blogs, so I’m just going to show you some photos of last evening.
There was a partial eclipse then – Saturday the 27th June – which we watched over a few hours. But these photos are the prelude to that event.
The moon rising over Thomas River (which runs thorugh our farm, down to the beach.)
This was an awesome view, but I wasn’t quite quick enough with my camera. If you look really closely you’ll see some Kangaroos hoping on the horizon. We were driving up from the bottom of the gully and saw about thirty kangaroos hopping in front of the moon.
And this was the view from the opposite direction, as the sun sank on another day.
Here’s hoping!
June 8, 2010
I hear rainbows have magic powers! Well, here’s hoping it can fix my garden! This was our view as I took the kids to the school bus last week.
A rainbow ends on my farm… that’s got to be good. After all, they’re supposed to have a pot of gold at the end, aren’t they? I wonder what other powers they have and if there would be any chance of the glittery, shiny end of the rainbow helping the plants in my garden. Maybe if it was somewhere between the lemon tree (that seems to have a strange leaf curling disease) and the rosemary bushes (that have a white fungus/moldy looking thing on them) it might be able to make them thrive again. Or, could its magic powers be so strong, that it simply just makes me like gardening?
Most people would assume that if you’re a good farmer, you’re a good gardener. I mean, the skills follow on from each other! You would think it’s important that to be a farmer, that I was also a good gardener. We do grow crops and feed for stock and that involves gardening skills. Even the words sound similar: farmer/gardener. But nope, I think it’s safe to say that the love of gardening has bypassed me all together! My sister has it, as has my mum and Nana before her. Nana enjoyed both cooking and gardening; one of the things I remember as a child, were her beautiful white camellias growing on the verandah- a piece of paradise in a hot, arid environment.
Well, I got the cooking gene, but nothing else! My garden is doomed to be a blob of straggly plants around the house, while the paddocks flourish (when it rains) with green grass and four tonne crops!
I love nice gardens. I particularly love roses, nice lawns, Salvias and Snap Dragons. I just can’t seem to keep them alive. Within days of being home they, at worst, wither and die, at best they just look sick! And if it’s somewhere in the middle, the rabbits have eaten the tips off them. Humph!
Anthony’s favourite saying, when I bring seedlings home from town is: ‘What victims have you got this time?’
I really do seem to have my ambitions and capabilities mixed up in this case
Another night at Thomas River
June 8, 2010
The boss mans’ fishing adventures have been non-existent lately! Between my high-flying (and rather unusual) absences, the rainy weather (not that we’re complaining!) and getting to the busy time of year, it’s been rather difficult to make it to the beach.
However, last weekend we all made it down there. A fire, full moon and toasted marshmallows made for a fantastic night. All we were missing were the fish!
The sea has been quite stirred up over the past couple of weeks. The strong winds and rain have caused a huge swell, which in turn stirs up the seaweed and makes it hard to fish. That was what it was like the other night, so after a couple of hours of dragging seaweed, every time Anthony reeled the line in, he gave up and sat down to enjoy the moon rising over the water, the atmosphere and the kids.
