now thats more like it

julian laid an egg!

a frame

the real things

geese on the move

the log

getting off the bark

very rough

little bit egg shaped

chisel

awestruck

now thats more like it

out it pops

give it a polish

all done

Oh my goodness!  I have always thought that my Julian was the bees’ knees and a right clever clogs.  But since he brought home his father’s lathe … well, just call me blown away and even more besotted with my lovely man and his endless hidden talents :-)

So here we are, winter is fading fast and spring pushing its way forth.  Our fruit trees are covered in wee buds – you should have seen the almond tree – covered in dear little tightly furled pink buds which the wretched bloody rosellas ate yesterday – aaaaargh! The days are longer.  The bread rises oh so fast.  And the geese are laying eggs.

See, geese only lay once a year.  Well, you know, they lay up to eight eggs over a period of a couple of weeks.  But they don’t lay at any other time.  Like wild birds, they only lay to reproduce.  And our dear girls – Madonna and Francesca – are slowly and carefully adding more eggs to their clutch in the little A-frame house.

We originally built that house for the ducks, but they outgrew it quickly – in size and number.  So we thought the geese might like it and filled it with lovely fresh straw.  Alas, our geese are wilful and dreadfully hard to herd, and so have never slept in there.  Oh no, they insist, every night, on sitting out under the moon and stars, their heavily feathered butts on the freezing ground. Even in the pouring rain and relentless wind.  Bizarre! Which leaves them susceptible to foxes and that means we have to keep the unsightly orange plastic electric net fence up.  Oh well.

But then we began to notice Madonna and Francesca disappearing into the A-frame for hours on end whilst Guiseppe stood guard.  Such glee! I checked many times over the first few weeks – nothing.  Until one morning, there was a HUGE, heavy, perfect white egg.  Naturally, I now – when the geese are up at the pond (very depleted – there’s been no rain for a couple of weeks) – crawl in and inspect their nest for new eggs.  And every few days, yes there’s another one buried deep in the straw, as cold as ice.

We haven’t yet decided how to proceed with this.  Clearly we would love goslings – we bought our trio of Pilgrim Geese as breeders for future meat birds.  Goose for christmas sounds marvellous indeed!  But we don’t know whether to leave the eggs where they are and let Madonna and Francesca have a go at hatching them.  Or pop the eggs into an incubator and see how that goes. Hmmm ….

Of course we don’t want to distress the geese by taking their eggs and making them feel that the A-frame is unsafe and therefore no more eggs for us!  And the plastic eggs you can buy at the ag shop are a very small substitute – I don’t think the geese would be so easily duped.  So Julian decided to turn some eggs.

This morning, he hunted through the wood shed to find a good bit of tree trunk.  And, completely bewitched by the idea of that lump of rough dark wood turning into a smooth egg, I set up a garden chair in the doorway to his workshop and watched with bated breath.

It was magical!  I know people can create exquisite and intricate things with wood lathes and this is just an egg.  But I had NO IDEA my dear man could do this!!!!  Oh the possibilities ahead of us!  I foresee wonderful candlesticks and lampbases, wooden bowls, table legs, staircase rails … all made from the trees on our land.  And of course eggs.  I think there will be many more eggs. How awesome is that!?

Julian carefully liberated his finished egg from its wooden uterus (hee! hee! hee!) and I gave it a quick rub with some lovely fragrant beeswax.  Julian worries that the geese mightn’t like that smell – oh well, that means I can keep this egg and he’ll just have to get to making more for the geese!

Truly, I think this is the most precious and beautiful egg I’ve ever been given.

whole room

the painted sheep

with ram

meeting

newly born

bare door

bare branches

mama sheep

peach tree

wee dusky lamb

grassy

with base

whole door

 

looking towards fireplace

opening

whole room

mama and baby

 

Oh there has been so much excitement here at Wombat Hill over the last couple of weeks.  We have added 5 sheep to our little farmlet!  Two mamas – they are Suffolk crossed with Hampshire Downs – and their three babies.   There’s Caroline-Louisa and her twins Satske and Little Kikashi, and Anne-Shirley and her baby Mae.  We bought them from a lovely lovely farming family who live nearby on a beautiful farm that was once part of the historic Kameruka Estate.  Oh you should have seen their old outbuildings – they even had the Kameruka Butter Factory in their back garden.  Swoon!

We will raise these five as the basis of our flock – well, Little Kikashi won’t really be as he’s a boy and won’t be of much use, but Noah adores him and said from the get go that he would be his pet.  Okay then :-)  So next year when it’s time for Caroline-Louisa and Anne- Shirley to make more babies, we’ll have to find ourselves a ram.  I’d like to get a Suffolk as I adore their black faces and legs. Both breeds are historically considered dual purpose – i.e. fleece and meat – and this is what we will raise them for.

So excited was I that out came the paints and I decorated our tv room door with my dream sheep :-)  As you do.  And half way through the painting, Noah and I were invited out to the farm to meet our potential sheep.  It was the best fun morning.  We arrived just as one sheep mama birthed twins right there in the field.  It was breathtaking.  And we roamed around the upper fields with Sue and her funny dogs – a huge young Maremma, a crazy little Kelpie pup, and the most manic poodle I’ve ever met.  It was one of those moments in life when I knew I was exactly where I wanted to be, doing exactly what I wanted to do.  Such a blessing.

We discussed our dreams with Sue and she promised to pick out just the right two mamas and their lambs – including twins – and then it was off to the ag store to buy all the sheep necessities.  Not much really – just another electric fence and a couple bales of lucerne.  We wanted to keep the mamas and their babies close in the early days because of the fox risk.  Yep.  Everything on our farm comes down to intestinal worms and foxes – I had no idea just how much these two topics would consume me.

Once home, I finished my painting – in a dancing state of delight, driving Noah crazy with constant chatter about how fabulous Sue was, and how beautiful the sheep are, and how living in the country is the bees’ knees, and how utterly utterly fantastic it all is!  He just smiled and nodded and agreed – he’s awfully good value like that.

Then, the next day, Noah and I did the big fence re-arrange.  We took the lovely sturdy mesh electric fence off the chickens – ’cause they do have a fox proof house and spend all their days free ranging – Julian calls them the Plucky Cluckies –  so don’t really need the full on fence – then retrieved the dreadful loosely woven goat fence from a lower field which required over an hour’s untangling.  What the goats hadn’t torn apart, the kangaroos crocheted up for us.  We popped that around the chicken house – don’t know why really – it is completely useless at keeping chickens in and foxes out – I think it just made me feel good.  Then we took the chicken’s old fence and the new fence – both very sturdy mesh electric fences – if you’re in the market for an electric fence, don’t even bother with the loose ones – spend the extra hundred and get the close mesh ones – works really well – the other just falls apart – and used them to completely enclose the field right in front of our cottage – including the big grevillea which we thought the sheep and lambs could shelter under if it rained.  Finally, we chucked in a wading pool for their water trough.  It was such good work ;-)

And only one more sleep until the real things arrived ….

polished

when the rain came

fire

digging

surveying

with shovel

african

polished

with cows

testing it

rearranged

A few weeks back we were treated to a torrential weekend of rain.  It began on the Friday afternoon and thundered down, non-stop, until Monday afternoon.  Oh my goodness, there was so much water.

Now, as a Brisbane girl – who also lived in Malaysia as a child – I thought I knew rain.  I love a good storm that stealthily appears on the horizon, turning the sky an eerie gold-green, before launching massive rolls of thunder and cracks of lightning, then torrential rain that turns your street into a creek within moments.  Yeah, yeah, I know and love that rain well.  But it’s over and done with within an hour usually.  Sometimes, if it’s arrived early enough in the afternoon, you can even enjoy a freshly washed blue sky and dazzling sunset before the moon rises for the evening.

But this rain – almost 72 hours of constant, drenching rain.  No.  That, I have never experienced.  It was delightful on Friday evening as we built the fire to roaring, tucked all the animals up safe and dry in their houses, and settled in for a cosy night of knitting and good television.  It was even adventurous on Saturday morning when Noah and I layered up and ventured over to Quaama for petrol, veggies and milk.

Saturday evening was beginning to feel a bit like we should have prepared the ark and as Sunday morning dawned – with a solid grey and plummeting sky – the novelty was definitely wearing thin. It was especially thin when we realised the pantry roof was leaking … onto our kitchen appliances.  The goats were pissed off.  The chickens were glum.  The guinea fowl had given up trying to make the best of it and were so hunched up they appeared to have lost their necks.  But the ducks and geese?  Rain is like crack to them.  They go truly insane.  They spend every outside moment running, splashing, darting their beaks into the sodden earth.  They ADORE it.

We humans were OVER it.  All the roads around us were flooding.  The ground was like walking on a sodden dish sponge.  Doing the animal chores was a drenching and depressing affair – by Monday morning I just did them in my underwear and gumboots.  No point soaking another set of clothes – and yes, I had been wearing a raincoat and carrying an umbrella!  Water was pouring out of the tanks’ overflows.  And we were having to replace the  buckets and towels in the pantry every couple of hours.  And what did the weather forecast say – oh you haven’t had the worst of it – that’s still coming!

Yep, Sunday night that rain was so loud on our tin roof it was hard to stay asleep.  And I hated thinking of all our animals – just as damp and soggy as their bedding.  All night I dreamt of big dry cosy barns – like in Charlotte’s Web – with solid wooden walls, high impenetrable slate roofs, dry dusty floors, separate little cosy stalls for all the animals, each with a lovely pile of warm, dry, sweet smelling fresh straw. Argh!

But as I staggered out of bed on Monday morning, my spirits as low as the sky, I reminded myself that this too would pass.  The skies were predicted to clear by mid afternoon.  The animals were all still healthy and whole.  Everything would dry out.  So, instead of frittering away another day, I decided to embrace my inner Rhonda and give the house a huge deep clean – and even throw in a little re-arrange.  Alas, the re-arrange potential here is as small as our house, but I still give it my best shot :-)

Julian went out to dig at his pond – with his ever faithful assistant and most unlikely farm dog ever – Fu!  I scrubbed the bathroom from top to bottom.  Washed and polished all the wooden surfaces.  Polished the silver trays and art deco coffee pots on top of the kitchen dresser.  Refreshed all the little Ostheimer corners and filled vases with feathers and gum.  Each candleholder was filled with new candles.  I scrubbed the stove.  Vacuumed and mopped the floor.  And then with my ever faithful rearranging assistant – the fabulous Noah – moved my sewing and computer desk into the far corner of the dining room and the crystal cabinet into the prime spot opposite the dining table.  We even dusted all the crystal!  And as we moved – and created ever more dust – Noah attacked with the vacuum.

It was brilliant.  We totally reclaimed the day.  We embraced our little home and made the most of it, rain or not.  Julian gave the ducks and geese their best day on earth ever – and because the ground was so sodden, was able to really get into building up the walls of the pond which had become very hard over our long hot summer.

By the end of the day we were all tired and sore.  But the rain had stopped.  The animals were indeed drying out.  The last applied towels and buckets in the pantry were still dry.  And our house shone like a new pin, no longer feeling like a damp and untidy hovel.  The homemade furniture polish I’d used – coconut oil, vinegar and a dash of rose geranium essential oil – added a lovely soft scent to every room.  The firelight and candlelight made all the wooden surfaces and silver gently gleam.  We all felt a sense of productive satisfaction.

All was good and peaceful.

And next time such rain is predicted, I know just what to stock up on, just how to prepare – and just how to enjoy it.

tea tray

the painted teapot

on the railing with cup

close up

tea tray

chocolate digestives

fu

on tray

Since coming to the farm, I have been rather seduced by the paints basket.  I’ve occasionally played around with paints in the past, but now, I’m quite smitten.  I think perhaps it’s a replacement for the mosaics I loved so much in Melbourne.  I lack the tools, tiles and space needed for mosaics,  so instead I’m turning to the most inexpensive tubes of paint – children’s acrylics.  Maybe one day I’ll branch out – perhaps some nicer acrylics, maybe watercolours would be nice, or even oils for that marvellous rich glossy finish.  But for now, children’s acrylics are just the thing.

Filling my palette (a large scrap piece of ply from Julian’s workshop) and swirling the brush around is very peaceful and I love the rich swathes of colour and story I can add to our home.   I can cheerfully spend hours lost in the delight of adding laying upon layer, watching as the picture I had in my head, appears on the surface in front of me.

I just make it up as I go – I never plan anything in advance.  Sometimes I think I should.  Sometimes I get to a moment when I realise, Oh if I’d put that there and this here, then it would be better balanced and I could have added this!  Oh well.  And when it doesn’t go quite right?  Well there’s always water and rags to swipe away the dodgy bits .. and even sandpaper or the scourer!

And I think – dare I say it – I am beginning to know what I like and a style that I’m happy with and want to build upon.

It started with decorating the animal houses.  Now I have a canvas in progress – it’s coming along slowly but sweetly. Then, when I spied this simple little enamel teapot at the camping store, I just knew I had to paint it – a variation on my lovely Spring Flower Girl I created at the mosaic studio last year – an image I’ve loved since first seeing Kaffe Fassett’s needlepoint of the flower and shell girl based on a vase he saw at the Victoria and Albert Museum.  I’ve actually been working on this needlepoint for 18 years.  Perhaps it’s time to finish it ;-)

Anyways, it’s a very simple bit of teapot painting.  Only worked in acrylics so it won’t stand up to much washing.  But oh it was such a pleasure to paint – in fact, I’m planning to sneak back to the camping store and buy some matching mugs and a little wee teapot for milk.  But don’t tell Julian!

And the nicest bit?  It’s something so very useful that brings us together.  Noah and I just love sharing a pot of tea.  We will gather together – under the tree, on the porch, on the sofa – our handwork on our laps, doggles by our sides, and often a good audio book playing in the background – this year we are on an Agatha Christie kick, and share our very milky tea and biscuits.  It’s bliss.