Christmas Day

I just realized that today, Christmas Day, being the last Sunday of the month, is curry pie day. Lib has gone to work, Gord and Rob are still asleep, and Pip and Snow aren't here, they're staying for a couple of days in the kennels where I took them yesterday. I didn't want to risk leaving them here with all this thunder happening while we won't be here much today and tomorrow. They have developed extreme anxiety to thunder, a result of neighbouring young bucks using fireworks at odd times close by.

It'sraining, so I'm not doing my morning walk, and even if I was and the dogs were with me, the baker wouldn't be open anyway. I guess I'll have to make do with Christmas lunch with my family, then dinner with Lib's. I kick started with egg, bacon, cheese, and tomato toasted sandwiches for breakfast and look forward to the feasts later in the day.

And I'll take my curry pie credit through to next Sunday, New Year's Day, when the baker is sure to be open, you'd think.

Reflections

Fortunately I find myslf in good health and happiness as we near the end of a difficult year. A year ago we were renovating the "clinic" at the farm where Vince had been a good tennant with his osteopath business. He'd scaled down over a few years and had been semi retired for some time. When he left we decided to renovate the building into living quarters which turned out to be a more tiring and expensive project than was anticipated. It took our savings. Meredith, Elvie and I contributed to make up the cost. So we started the year skun out and not a little anxious. The prospective tennant we had lined up pulled out but Jod took the opportunity and moved in as soon as it was finished. He pays rent so over time our expense will be recouped.

The big rain of February set the tone for a wet and wild ride which has continued for most of the year with rampant growth of trees and shrubs and grass and weeds creating a high work load which has not eased up. Our scratchy financial position meant we had to chase every dollar we could in the way of keeping customers supplied and happy. Somehow customers have a habit of requiring the difficult or scarce rather than the easy and plentiful. That's the way it goes.

The last three months have been good from a financial viewpoint. Two wet springs in a row made for terrific blossom and beech foliage. We have at last a small buffer in the bank which should tide us over the next couple of months as business quietens after Xmas and we concentrate on farm maintenance eg grass cutting and weeding and pruning and mulching. Not that we are flush by any means but we've gained a little breathing space.

Aside from the sheer brutality of meeting financial commitments there's a psychological endurance needed in small business, and I think I can be pardonned if I have become cynical. It was not long ago that I had a letter from the Fairwork Ombudsman suggesting that I had been selected for a possible audit of my workplace arrangements and payments, and that if I was in breech of any regulations it would be far better for me to disclose my errors beforehand than be detected by the auditor.

Not long after that a letter came from the Tax Office telling me that my figures were below "industry average", and seeing that I was involved in an industry where cash was often transacted, there was chance that I'd be selected for audit shortly and it would be wise of me to make disclosure of any receipts that had not been declared before thy were discovered at audit. I was informed there were hefty penalties and that the tax office had access to my bank accounts, and they worked from information provided to them by other parties.

Now I have nought to hide from anyone but I still find this communication intimidating, and when you are a small business scratching a living out of a few acres and employing a few people honestly and diligently you can't help but feel offended, remembering that as an self employed toiler I have no perks like sick pay or holiday pay. Every dollar is hard won.

Lately when I get home if I watch TV there are advertisements for WorkSafe directed at employers with the theme "We're coming to get you, the inspector is on his way". Of course I pay work cover insurance and we've never had a claim against us. I guess my premiums help pay for the ad.

Nowadays also as I drive to the farm and return there's every chance the police are aiming their radar speed gun at me or there's a speed trap set up to photograph the car's number if I transgress. I have not been booked for speeding for many years but Meredith, one of the slowest drivers I have known was detected and fined for doing 63 in a 60 zone a while back, and Lib copped a $240 fine for speeding whilst going shopping for the nursing home in her lunch hour. I have been pulled up dozens of times and asked to blow in the straw this year.

My farm pack insurance renewal came with a 50% increase in the premium and reading the fine print I find that a healthy portion of the total due is stamp duty and fire levy. There was no explanation for the rise in premium and we've never made a claim. The council rates have gone up double the CPI for two years in a row. It never seems to end. And everybody knows what is happening to electricity and water charges.

So I do feel I'm under constant harrassment. I regard myself as an honest, law abiding, hard working citizen, contributing much to the community above my business interests in voluteer work. My feelings are not diminished by the knowledge the harrassers receive holiday pay, sick pay, healthy superannuation, not to mention compassionate leave, long service leave, maternity leave. Mostly they are public servants whose tenure is 'safe' from economic fluctuation.

I make no apology for what may be perceived as whingeing. I intend to speak my mind more in the future. Despite the grinding oppression, I repeat I'm fortunate to be in good health and happiness and ready to take up arms for new battle in the New Year. I wish my friends and readers a happy and safe Christmas and festive season. May God be with you.

December Rain

As I went past the rain gauge on Saturday as I whipper snipped I tipped 25 ml out, which had fallen Friday night. I tipped out another 35 ml this morning which fell on Saturday night accompanied by much thunder and lightning.

Since my last post we've had a holiday to South Australia where we found considerable relaxation if not peace and quiet. We stopped overnight on day one at the Kaniva motel having failed to find a vacant cabin in the Nhill caravan park. We cooked on the communal barbecue in company with several shearers who were having a quiet drink after a long hard day. The motel owner had warned us there'd be some rough looking and talking characters at the barbie but they were "good boys" who often stayed there. Lib thought she brought some frozen steak but when she took it from the esky thawed out it turned out to be a big fish head, whatever that was doing in our freezer I know not, perhaps it was put in there with the intention of putting it in the bin on garbage day but was forgotten. We had enough sausages to get by.

The next two nights were in a motel in Adelaide, on Sth Terrace near wher Rob is living. Adelaide is great. The city centre is surrounded by parkland and it's an accessible city with excellent public transport. People are relaxed and friendly and there's far less traffic and hustle and bustle than Melbourne. We dined out at a Greek restaurant one night and a Chinese the other with Rob and his friend for company. We did a tour of the Adelaide oval and St. Peter's cathedral and explored the city.

We then moved south to the beach and stayed 3 nights in a cabin at Adelaide Shores caravan park which itself is only 15 minutes from the city. The airport is right next door so we watched (and heard) many planes coming and going. Saturday we went to Morphetville races just up the road with mixed result on the punt. Our best collect was when I put the money on the wrong horse for Lib, No 4 insted of 5, she didn't want me to but I went back and put some each way on No 5 and as luck would have it 4 and 5 came first and second. We drove to the Clare Valley one day and Maclarenvale another and bought some fabulous wine to enjoy over Christmas.

Everywhere through Western Victoria and rural S.A. the wheatfields looked fantastic and harvesters were busy and grain trucks delivered wheat to mountains of it in the storage yards. It was a great thing to see, and probably the best harvest for many years.

We've been back a week and I been very busy picking beech and flowers and catching up on bookwork, grass cutting, weeding and other business concerning the park and museum etc. Never a dull moment.

Gotta go, very tired. Great win by NZ in the cricket. As I write it's raining again, I can hear it on the roof. I hope the heavy rain has missed the broad acre crop areas. I must buy the Weekly Times on Wednesday to find out.

Vale Molly

The last week seems a blur of travel, emotion, nostalgia and hard work. Lib and I left for Wangaratta last Saturday morning. We took Ian's Subaru, Lib's old car, as I'd had it serviced during that previous week, a run would do it good, and Lib's Hyundai had a fault with the electonic locking/unlocking, we couldn't open the tailgate at all and doors other than the driver's door which needed a key because the button wouldn't work, could only be opened from the inside. Yet another case of modern technology causing more trouble than it is worth.

The roadsides and farmland was lush and green after the wonderful winter and spring rain and Eildon reservoir was full to the brim, a sight to behold at Bonnie Doon. I had strong memories of my introduction to fishing there with Billy Edward's family in late 1967. We were camped on one side of the Bonnie Doon arm of the lake and Billy and I took the dingy to row to other side to sneak a smoke too far off to be detected. We took the fishing rods as part of the ruse, tied up to a tree near the far bank, dangled a couple of worms over the side and lit a fag in bliss. Bang went the rods, we caught over 50 redfin in an hour which astounded Bill's dad, who said, "Remember this well because in your lives you'll be lucky to see such once more."

Lib's sisters Pat and Marg and Marg's Phil were at Molly's house when we arrived. They said Moll was lucid but in pain and discomfort and wanting to sleep all the time. When Lib and I arrived at the private hospital we went to room 8 where her husband Bill had died eleven years earlier. One side of her face was still scarred by the shingles and the other bruised by her fall that had caused a brain haemmorage causing her to lose her cognitive ability for a day or so. She was a skeleton with skin. She said she had a constant headache from which she could not get relief. Conversation was difficult as the shingles made the hearing aid too painfull to wear. I stayed in the background but she recognized me and gave a smile and small wave. After an hour or so I went to the tea room for a cup of black tea, which I enjoyed uncustomarilly with a half a spoon of sugar. On returning to the room Lib suggested I go to the supermarket and buy some salad and penne pasta to go with the meat sauce we had brought from home for dinner that night.

I took the shopping back to Molly's house and gave the others an update and when I returned to the hospital Lib told me Molly's GP had been in. I was sorry I'd missed him as Molly had spoken so much of him over the years, she was friend's with his parents and knew him from boyhood and was besotted by him too it seemed, a not uncommon thing I'm told in the circumsances of Molly's long slow loss of health and self reliance.

In my absence a morphine injector had been installed on Molly's thigh, part of the palliative plan she and her doctor had agreed on. As we left I kissed Molly on the cheek and she clasped my hands in her beautiful hands, which I had admired earlier, twitching and wringing as she fitfully slept and dreamed. We shared an intimacy at that moment, her eyes conveyed her love for me and I knew it was the last time I would see her. It was goodbye.

Next morning I walked early with Lib. We took Molly's binoculars to observe birds. The case had an inscription, "Presented to Clarence Browne to recognize 50 years service to the British Footwear Company September 1954." Clarence was Molly's father and must have started work there in 1904. Molly was born in 1919. Lib went to the hospital with Pat. Molly was in less discomfort but still lucid, it was expected her death to be some days away.I rang the railway station and booked a ticket to Melbourne, catching the 1.20pm coach to Seymour. Just north of Violet Town I thought of my old friend Norm Jenkins, a recluse old beekeeper whose house was right where the freeway now runs. His house was compulsorily acquired, he refused to leave, but died of a heart attack well before a final confrontation. Awaiting the train on Seymour station I remembered standing there on first week end leave after a month national service training at Puckapunyal, 39 years ago. The express train to Southern Cross rolled through new housing developments into the northern suburbs of Melbourne. I was struck by the general look of industry and delapidation for the most part.

A half hour wait for a connecting train to Belgrave was followed by more than hour stopping at 27 stations on the way through Melbourne's eastern suburbs. The railway reserves, once we left the inner city where nothing much of anything grows, were a mass of weeds, low growing like blackberry in particular, and many tree weeds like pittosprum and cotoneaster. If you had a beehive at each station I reckon you'd have a blackberry honey flow, such was the rampant growth and proliferate flowering. A unkempt man carrying a bulging laundry bag sat near enough to me so that I could fill my nose with his scent resembling a municipal tip. He picked up a paper cup with a lid and straw that had been discarded by a previous traveller and consumed the remaining contents. Then he took a spray can of deodorant out of his laundry bag and sprayed his face and hair and torso with it. Fortunately he alighted at Surrey Hills. I hoped he was aware that soon he'd be able to have his fill of wonderful fresh blackberries if he could compete with the birds.

The train pulled into Belgrave at 6.20pm. I had a half hour wait for a Gembrook bus. I knew there was left over home made soup at home in the fridge, but by now I was hungry so I snacked on four steamed dim sims from a noodle shop in Belgrave's main street before the 695 bus came. I took a leak in the bushes behind the station, rather than find the Belgrave public toilet. Gord told me a while back when he was in there some queer tried to lure him into a cubicle. I was in no mood for rubbish like that.

Six hours on the road, I was home at 7.20. I'd rung Gord from Belgrave and he was waiting at the bustop which saved me a twenty minute walk home, not that I minded walking but I rang him to let him know I was coming so he didn't have to worry about feeding the dogs or putting the chooks away. The ticket in Wang cost me $22.90 and covered me on Metlink so I paid no more to get to Gembrook. Good value I think.

I'd booked the Hyundai in for a service on the Monday at Clappo's garage. I told him to have a quick look at the electric locking but not to spend time on it if it couldn't be rectified easily, as it was a warranty problem and Hyundai wouldn't charge me but I'd have to go to Dandenong. He fixed it, it was a loose connection at the fuse box.

I had a lot of picking to do on the Monday and then an appointment with arborist Steve Major in Nobelius park to appraise tree work. Lib rang Monday night to say Molly was comfortable and still communicating. Marg and Phil had left on the Sunday as I did and Pat went back to Bendigo that day. Lib, having taken a weeek off work, was to call them to return as Molly approached passing.

I went for a walk Tueday morning and the the light on the answering machine was flashing when I came back. Molly was in my thoughts on my walk. It was Lib's voice on the message, telling me Molly had passed away at 2.00am, peacefully in her sleep. I had a lot of picking to do, beech foliage, they're all screaming for it this year, and a Park Advisory Group meeting at 3.30 pm, followed by a meeting with the Emerald Village Committee at 4.30.

Lib came home Wednesday afternoon and cooked roast lamb. We played Molly's CD's of her old 1930's music that she loved. The busy week continued to a crescendo yesterday in 35 degree heat with a horrible north wind that left me exhausted. It rained overnight and continued this morning with a peaceful calm that has allowed me to reflect on the last seven days which saw us heading of for Wang this time a week ago.

Molly is survived by three of her sisters, all in their nineties. She lost her oldest sibling Nell last year aged 99 and brother Lin a couple of years ago at age 94 I think. Lib has been now four days without her mother alive and I can see it has shaken her to her core. I'll miss the lady who has been mother-in-law since 31 Jan 1981. She was an amazing intellect, well educated, well read, well travelled, a lady of strong opinion who could mix and match with people of all ages and backgrounds. We loaned Molly my grandmother's photo album when 'Old Nanna' was still alive, which contained letters and postcards from my grandfather from France during WW1. This family treasure is now held for safety by Meredith's Annie and it contains Molly's letter to "Annie" (Old Nanna), thanking her for sharing it with her, and saying how wonderful it must be for her to look at the the letters and photos and feel 18 again. Molly was all class.

Molly's death notice was in Wednesday's Age and is as follows-

MEEK
Ina Mary (Molly)
07.01.1919 - 15.11.2011
Beloved and loving wife of Bill(dec) much loved mother, mother-in-law and grandmother of Margaret and Philip- Alexandra, Lizzie and Pippa; Pat and Michael- James and Jonty; Libby and Carey- Gordon and Robbie.
Dearly loved sister of Nell (dec), Cath, Lin (dec), Pat and Margaret.

There will be a Memorial gathering on Molly's birthday, January 7th, 2012 at 16 Willow Drive Wangaratta, 2-5pm. All Molly's friends and acquaintances are invited to attend.

Elvie's Birthday

It was Elvie's 83rd birthday today. I had a present for her but I forgot to take it when I left for the farm in rather a hurry. It was an oxtail, which she adores, as do I. It remains in our freezer. I'll take it tomorrow unless I forget again, but it doesn't matter, Elvie is not one to be worried about who does what for her birthday.

She made me a posy of flowers at my request, as I was boked as guest speaker at the November meeting of the Emerald Garden Club to talk about the story of Chamomile Farm. I was approached a couple of months ago about it, of course the date struck a chord, and I accepted thinking I'd have no trouble talking about the family's work over nearly four decades as I'd lived it.

So my preparation was over the last three evenings, mainly in my head, mind mapping as I did other things, or lying in bed after having fallen asleep in the chair when I should have been organizing it.

It went alright I think, they were such nice people so it couldn't really have flopped big time. The posy was a big help, it gave me a start then something to go back to right up to the end.

I didn't have dinner. I was asked to be there at 7.45 pm so I worked picking and bunching beech to help for tomorrow, till 7.15, then after changing clothes I went up to the Silk Palace Chinee and ordered a Singapore noodle box, thinking I'd eat it after I got home, reheated. There's a lovely lady, Jayne, who works there some evenings. She asked me about my day and what I was doing and she suggested why don't I come back after my talk and get the noodsles on my way way home, then they will be fresh. Good idea! They shut at 9.00pm, that should be no problem. I paid in advance.

So I go to the venue, find there's a bit of business before I'm on, do my stuff, have a cuppa, give my nod for speaker's choice of display, then head home knowing I'd missed my noodle pick up.

Here I am enjoying a glass of red wine, satisfied that I gave the talk a go, even if there were many things I left out by accident. Chamomile Farm has played a role in Emerald's history. The wonderful Elvie has been a major driver.

On a less happy note, Molly is fading fast and not expected to live past the weekend. I think Lib and I are going up on Saturday. I'm trying to help Lib through without being obvious about it. How does it feel when your mother dies? Lib is a brave soul and working in an aged care facility death is no stranger to her. But this is her mother. When Bill died, after the funeral, in bed that night, Lib cried and cried her heart out for hours. I am prepared for a similar reaction but am hoping it's easier this time given we're eleven years on and Molly is 92 and has been so frail and failing for so long.

Shot Down

I took Gord to Dandenong last Thursday to see the surgeon who did his hernia op. It was the second follow up appointment, just to check all is well. All is well, Gord got the all clear.

We continued on to do a pick up and on the way back did a much needed clothing shop at Westfield Keysborough. On leaving and feeling ready to fall asleep, a problem I have when I drive anywhere these days, I looked around for a coffee stall and subsequently stood ordering a coffee to go at 'WENDY's DONUTs'.

The girl making my coffee was a pretty young thing and I noticed the word 'barista' on her tea shirt just above her shapely left breast. Until a couple of years ago I'd never herad of the word 'barista', but now know it to mean coffee maker. The similarity to the word barrister occured to me while she busied with the coffee production and a joke came to me. I said to the girl, "The last time I had a barrister, it cost me $1000 per hour."

She did not give any semblance of a smile, nor raise an eyebrow. Totally unfazed she said, "That's about what I'd cost you."

Good Weather for Pansies

It's been a busy month for me, working on the 'vegie garden' at the farm and the garden at Hanna's as well as the usual picking of foliage and blossom. I was impressed by the pansies at Hanna's yesterday a week ago so I have included a photo. The other things visible are love in the mist, cornflowers and calendulas, but there's also rocket, sage and parsley.On a lower level at Hanna's I have coriander, queen Anne's lace, broad beans and garlic and dill. It's a lot of fun and healthy excercise.

A Big Weekend at The Museum

We had a wine and cheese night last Friday night at the Emerald Museum, ahead of an open weekend when the museum was open on Saturday as well as the customary Sunday. The reason for this was that it marked 100 years since Gus Ryberg's birth, so we put on a Gus display for his family and friends to celebrate Gus's community achievements. As president of the committee I had to make a small welcoming talk, which gave me an anxious few days last week as it neared.

I wrote up a script last Monday night and revamped it on Friday morning. I caught the last half hour of my writing class on Friday arvo and after telling the class why I was late and what I had to do later, my classmates were sympathetic and helpful with advice. In particular Judy Anne gave me a pep talk as we were leaving. She said, "Don't read out your script, make notes of about six key points in sequence and speak from memory. Refer to your notes on the small peice of paper to keep your rhythm. If you forget something or muck up the crowd won't know so just move on to the next point. Make sure you project your voice to the far corners, and think of the crowd as all naked with cabbages for heads."

I decided to take her advice and not read out (except the obituary), but to work from notes on a piece of paper. Somehow my confidence built and I was reasonably calm. I forgot a few things I had scripted and added in some others but it went quite well. The night was a real success and the museum was busy both days of the weekend. I copy the script of my talk below.

OUR FRIEND GUS WOULD BE ONE HUNDRED Wine and Cheese Evening 21 Oct 2011
On behalf of the Nobelius Heritage Park and Emerald Museum committee I extend a warm welcome to you, in particular to the Mayor of Cardinia, George Blenkhorn, and his wife Sue, also to council officer Wendy Abbott, and to the trader’s of Emerald and all the friends of the park and museum. Thank you for your attendance in response to our invitation.
Two or three summers ago, I came across a European wasp nest in a particularly awkward position. Usually you can sneak up on a nest from the side to puff in insecticide dust quite easily but this one was hard to get at so I rummaged around in the glove box of a car I used to drive for a bee veil, to give me some protection. I found a newspaper cutting. It was Gus’s obituary in the Herald Sun. It’s not the sort of thing you discard readily but I didn’t know what to do with it, so I put it in my wallet in one of those little hideaway areas. It has remained there.
It is titled ‘Sowed Seeds in Emerald Horticulture’, and I would like to read it as it is brief.
"GUSTAF RYBERG
Horticulturist, historian. Born- October 19, 1911 Died- November 15, 2000
Gustaf Ryberg gave everything to his local community. Better known as Gus, he was the son of a Swedish migrant. They shifted to the Emerald area when Gus was just one month old. He attended Emerald Primary school before getting his first job at Nobelius Nursery. Mr. Ryberg took part in a strike at the nursery in 1939 when employees successfully fought for better working conditions.
A short time later he left for the Northern Territory where he cooked for wartime road workers. But it was not long before he was back in Emerald with his wife Irene and two daughters. A son was born in 1945.
Mr. and Mrs. Ryberg were members of the Australian Communist Party. He often organized house squats, public speakers and even established the local bookshop through the party. During the 1950’s Mr Ryberg contributed to the environment by starting his own nursery which included a popular vegetable section. But ten years later the business closed after Mr. Ryberg was appointed by the Ferntree Gully Shire to assist in the development of Emerald Lake Park.
He retired in 1976 but this did not slow down the dedicated community worker. He played important roles in the preservation of the Nobelius Heritage Park and the establishment of the Emerald Museum.
Mr. Ryberg will be missed in the Emerald area."

That is a brief overview of Gus’s life which makes no mention of his OAM medal or his involvement with the Fire Brigade, the Hall Committee, Garden Club, Arts Society or the Nangana Cemetery. Many of you know far more of this involvement than I do. Nor does it mention the two books Gus wrote after his retirement. Gus was a dynamic man. Yes, he talked the talk as well as any, but he followed up with action.
In 1981, the land now known as Nobelius Heritage Park was the subject of application by its owner Ern Smith of ‘Din San Nurseries’ to subdivide into 27 residential blocks. Realising its heritage value Gus and fellow local Colin Phillips began a public campaign to save it for the people of Emerald. After considerable pressure, the land was purchased by the Shire of Sherbrooke with the State Government contributing $100,000 and the Shire the remaining $51,000. It was now public property.
I didn’t get to know Gus till the mid 1980’s. My family moved to Emerald in 1972 and I lived away for much of the 1970’s, returning in 1981 to live in Gembrook and work at Chamomile Farm. It was by Gus’s invitation that I became involved in Nobelius Heritage Park in the late 1980’s when he was organizing a committee of management with the goodwill of the Shire of Sherbrooke, who owned the property. There being no museum building back then we met at night in what is now known as the Green Shed. The only heating in winter was a single bar electric element. My recall of the meetings is not good but I think Gus mostly reported on his activities as park curator. He organized a local tractor operator to cut the grass 4-6 times a year while he mowed the tracks and high profile areas himself more regularly with his beloved heavy cut mower and a push mower. He enlisted help from the committee members to run the annual family picnic day and the lavender harvest, both of which were important to him.
At that time the site where we now stand was a council machinery depot. Through his vision and personality Gus convinced the Shire of Sherbrooke to erect a museum building in 1993. This has always amazed me. Gus was enormously proud of this building. He attended every Sunday with whoever was rostered for duty. I may be biased but I consider Gus’s greatest achievements, other than his family, to be the establishment of Nobelius Heritage Park and the Emerald Museum which started out separately but became one.
Gus loved trees, flowers, fishing, fossicking, music, a good singing voice, a cup of tea, a sweet biscuit, a veggie garden. Most of all he loved to share his interests and knowledge, which were broad. The first 25 years of his life passed at a time when there was no electricity or power tools, no chainsaws, little mechanization and few motor vehicles. He saw the world around him change through world war, depression and social and technical revolution. He was an environmentalist, a conservationist and a pacifist. When he retired from the paid workforce the council and community gained a full time worker for more than two decades.
It’s amazing where Gus pops up when you talk to people. Gwen Asling told me she and her husband Ron met at a dance in Clematis organized by Gus. He used to play banjo in a bit of a band with a few other blokes and apparently they weren’t bad either. Julian Dyer in Gembrook told me Gus was good mates with his dad, Howard, and the Stielows who were prominent in the timber and potato industries. Jean Haines, editor of ‘Signpost,’ tells me Gus gave her her first job in the late 1950’s when she was about 13 years old, as usher at the Saturday night picture shows at the Emerald Hall.
Gus initiated Heritage Week at the Emerald Primary school where he was always willing to talk to classes, realizing the importance of heritage for children. When my kids were at Gembrook Primary a teacher asked me did I know an old person who’d talk to his class about the old days. I mentioned it to Gus who did not hesitate and finished up addressing several classes together in the multi-purpose room. The kids were enthralled and every one of them left with a gemstone clutched in their hand. My sister Meredith told me of a time when her daughter Rose showed interest in gemstones and Gus invited them to his house to show them his collection and the tumblers and techniques for polishing.
What I liked most about Gus was his austere lifestyle. He was not materialistic. No flash car, expensive holidays or fat superannuation, in contrast to the ‘grab all you can while you can’ influences that seem to prevail these days.
I came across a quote I liked when thinking about today, which seems appropriate to Gus. “Strive not to be successful, strive to be of value.” Gus set a good example, to put in more and expect less out, instead of the other way around.
Thank you to all the committee for their work preparing for this weekend, especially Chris Britton who has put in long hours improving the museum displays. We are excited about our future continuing the vision of Gus Ryberg, which becomes more important with each passing year. Thanks for your attention and please enjoy the wine and cheese. We are always looking for volunteers in the museum and new ‘friends’ of the park. Anyone interested in joining can leave their details.

Grand Final Day

What a happy result it was. We watched it at Ricky Ralph's and Mon's new house in Berwick, where they say " we are right in suburbia but we love it."

The Wall Fell Down

Earlier this month we received word that a section of the large retaining wall behind the house at Lakes Entrance had collapsed. I posted about this possibility on 3 Aug after our return from our trip during the big rain in July.

Nothing has been done yet by way of repair, fortunately it's not my responsibility. It will be a complicated and costly project. Just thought I'd mention it before going to bed.

Solar Nightmare, Health Update

My friend Hannah was in a panic today when I called in today to pick rocket, pansies and Chinese lantern flowers. She'd rung her electricity supply company AGL to ask if the paper work had come through from the installers (the same firm that did ours). It hadn't, nor had her application for premium rate buy back contract. All this has to be in by 3o Sep we have discovered or you miss out. Without the premium rate buy back there's no point to go to the expense of fitting solar panels. The installers told her they'd faxed the forms but suggested she ring them to confirm they'd been received.

The fault on our system was corrected last Friday, and we believe was inspected later the same day. The installers rang me this morning saying they had received the certificate and had faxed it through to our supplier, Origin. They suggested I ring Origin, and SP Ausnet, tomorrow morning, to confirm all the necessary forms have been received. I was inclined to ring this afternoon but was too busy and thought it was probably OK to give them 24 hours to sort themselves anyway. Let me say I'm very nervous about this as we have spent close to $5000 on this system.

On a brighter note, Gord is making good recovery from his hernia op which was done nearly two weeks ago. He was told he couldn't lift anything for four weeks, and is to see his surgeon on Thursday.

Jod has had a difficult recovery from his mouth op and has been in great pain and distress. His face face blew up on the weekend, he had ultrasound today, he has infected blocked saliva gland and is now on double strength antibiotics.

Lib's mum molly has had a dose of shingles, most unfortunate for a 92 yr old who is frail and somewhat incapacitated normally. She has been admitted to hospital today. Lib's sister Pat had been staying with her as she is in no condition to look after herself, but if Moll couldn't get a bed in hospital Lib probably would have had to leave work for a few days and go to Wang as Pat has to return to Bendigo.

Brookers Not Quite

Gembrook-Cockatoo were valiant in defeat on Saturday in the YMDFL grand final against Upwey-Tecoma at the Healesville sports complex. In a spirited contest they were a couple goals down at the final siren, making them runners up two years in a row.

I'm not one who says winning is everything. The great thing is competing and giving your best effort. There's a geat Teddy Roosevelt quote I have had stuck inside a cupboard door in in our laundry for probably 20 years, which I won't go check now for fear of disturbing Lib's chickens which still are housed there at night. It talks of admiration for those brave souls who strive for victory yet come up short after having given their all, and of repugnance for their critics in defeat who are themselves too timid to enter the contest.

Lib Gordon and I packed a picnic lunch of salami and salad rolls and found a good viewing spot on what was pleasant sunny day with at times a gusty wind that carried a bit of chill. The downside of the day, besides the result, was the ridiculously loud music played over the PA pre game and at breaks. It was enough to make me want to go home a few times.

Gord took the car keys at half time and went to get a score from the Eagles Geelong game at half time, returning during the third quarter. At three quarter time with the Brookers trailing by 2 points and in with a big chance, I went out to the 3/4 time huddle to hear the coach and soak up a bit of the emotion building in expectation of a rousing last quarter. When I returned Lib told me Gord had lost the car keys, he knew not where, so he and I went off to retrace his course, which he had done already.

We couldn't find them. I went to the kiosk and the bar and asked if someone had handed in a set of car keys. No. I thought I should try the other bar over near where Gord had said he went to the toilet, and on the way look for a Gembrook person to get a lift back with to get the spare keys from home. Yes, the barman said there were keys handed in, he gave them to 'a league bloke'. They wear league jackets. I found one, he didn't have them, but said he'd go and find out who did. I said I'd wait where I was, behind the goals. He was back in five minutes with the keys much to my relief.

When I returned to Lib and Gord they were ready to go home so we left just as the game was finishing. The anthem of the Upwey Tigers was blasting over the PA, the same theme song as the AFL Richmond Tigers. Lib asked me what would be playing had Gembrook won, to which I answered I had no idea. I've since asked around and still don't know.

Lib and I agreed it was a pity about the loud music. We also also found the medal presentations to the winning players of the reserves GF and the netballers before the main game tedious, and the line up of the senior teams before the game to the playing of the national anthem. I mean what the hell for, it seems copy cat to me. I prefer good old country footy atmosphere with the traditional crowd noise and expectation. Spare me the entertainment and pomp.

One Down One To Go

Jod had his operation last Monday to remove the growth on his gum. It was quite an ordeal, not for me but for Jod, and Elvie and Meredith who have helped him with their moral support and with organizing. Gord and Rob drove him to hospital in the morning and picked him up also as I was at a meeting late that afternoon when the hospital rang.

The growth was thought to be precancerous, but the biopsy the week or so before revealed a few cancer cells apparently. The surgeon said the op was an enormous success, they removed all the growth with no complication and there should be no problems in future. Jod is supposed to be giving up smoking and he's trying very hard but still having a few I think.

Gord goes in for his hernia op tomorrow after a 3 month wait. I have to have him at Monash Medical centre at 6.45 am so the alarm will be set for 5.00am.

I had wanted to post about Marrianne Summers' beehive which I picked up at Officer last Friday evening and moved to Gembrook, but I'd better hit the sack and write that up next time.

The solar panels aren't hooked up yet to the grid. An inspector came and found a couple of wires wrong so the electrician has to come back then the inspector again, and we still need a new fancy metre that can go backwards. I'm starting to get a bit anxious. We've paid up, but nothing's working yet.
(Believe it or not the inpector's name was CARL AXEL NOBELIUS, which will only mean something to those familiar with Nobelius Park)

On AFL football, my association with it is over. I will not be buying a club membership in future and will never pay at the gate to see another game. Melbourne losing our priority draft pick to GWS which is an AFL creation working on AFL money to burn goes beyond all reason and is my tipping point. The AFL is a vile organization.

Prayers for Gord tomorrow, it's his fourth hernia op in his nearly 26 years.

All in a Week

There were five blokes clamouring over our house today fitting solar panels. This after a sales rep from a solar solutions company came to talk to me on Monday of last week, after a telemarketer had rung the week before and arranged the appointment. His quote was for 8 panels and a 3kw inverter thrown in, above the capacity of the 1.5 inverter we'd need, so we could inrease our number of panels when the price goes down in the future as the rep assured me it would, for the tidy sum of $6990.

Lib wasn't home when the rep called, and it was her birthday so we didn't discuss that evening, what with the champagne and present opening etc it seemed too much like business. The next morning, a week ago today, I met Heinz on my walk.

"What's new?" Heinz often greets me with this question.

"Not much Heinz,I got a quote yesterday from a company to fit solar panels."

"Did they ring you up, then come around?"

"Yes."

"They rang me too. I didn't buy from them. I got onto another crowd, much cheaper."

We stood in front of Amanda's house in Innes Rd., after stopping as we were going different directions. Werner, a builder renovating Amanda's house, was in conversation with her in the driveway. On seeing Heinz and I they walked up, Heinz and Werner being friends, and Amanda and I. After a few moments hearing a progress report on Amanda's house I excused myslf. As I left Heinz called to me with some urgency of tone.

"Don't do anything till you talk to me. Come and see me. You could save thousands."

"Are you home this afternoon?"

"Yes, I will show you my house. You've been saying you'll come for a long time. Now you must.

When I visited Heinz that afternoon he greeted me like a long friend, sitting me dowm in his loungeroom with the superb view of the Warbuton Range, and bringing me green tea and biscuits. He told me how efficient the solar company he purchased from was and offered to ring them so I could give them some details and ask for a price. To cut it short the price was over $2000 less, for 11 panels not 8, with a 2kw inverter. The chap I talked to googled our address and told me what I could do from the sattelite photo. I paid a 10% deposit on the phone using credit card and as soon as the contract arrived by email and I could send it back by post signed, they got it yesterday, they installed today.

It's not working yet, it has to be inspected by SPAus the electricity supplier first before it can be turned on. The electricity generated above what our house uses during the day will be fed back into the grid and purcased by the state government. There's a new meter needed at a cost (to us) of $250 to enable this which is to be added to the next electricity bill. Also we had to upgrade our switchboard at a cost of $700, also done today, the contractor paid by us, which we would have had to do anyway soon.

Touch wood it goes smoothly from here. The idea is that the system pays for itself in the first few years then the savings are real for the next decade. If we sell it should be an advantage to get a buyer, and a better price. Let's hope it has been a good decision.

Next time Heinz asks what's new I'll have something to tell him. Sometimes everything justs clicks into place and things happen quickly.

Spring is Early

I have felt for a couple of months that things have been flowering early this year and this was confirmed when John Rando rang last night to say he'd pruned the fruit trees in Nobelius Park and said in his opinion the trees were close to a month in advance of a normal year. As a man who worked 30 years as a pruner in a commercial apple orchard I accept what he says.

I have a museum meeting today and much else to do so I'll copy and paste from Word my Gembrook column for Signpost for September which I just submitted after starting on it first thing, so as to give my blog readers something. I don't think Signpost readers read my blog, with maybe one or two exceptions, and no one will mind I'm sure.

AMONGST THE GUM TREES
I heard a conversation in the post office where a man said to his friend, “I can’t understand why Australians call all eucalypts gum trees when the rest of the world knows them as eucalypts. Do you know the origin of it?”
His friend replied, “No I don’t. I always thought of them as eucalypt gums.”
At this point I nearly joined in to say it baffles me also, and that eucalypts are broadly grouped by bark type e.g. Stringybarks, Box, Ironbarks and Bloodwoods. It’s the smooth barked types such as Mountain grey Gums, Manna Gums and Red Gums that are “gums”. I didn’t, because I didn’t know the answer to question, the origin of “gum tree”.
So I researched to find that Eucalyptus is one of three similar genera that are commonly referred to as ‘eucalypts’, the others being Corymbia and Angophora. They are known as gum trees because many species, but not all, exude copious sap from any break in the bark. There are more than 700 species of Eucalyptus, 15 found outside Australia, only 9 not occurring in Australia. Interestingly, two of our best known gums, the Red Flowering Gum and the Ghost Gum, are Corymbias.
There are other eucalypts types such as Mallees, Ash and Peppermints. Generally speaking our knowledge of our native trees could be improved and perhaps could be given more emphasis in the education system. It may have improved since my day.
On the bird front, John Batten told me recently that red browed finches had visited his garden, and he’d seen many water birds in the dams in Harewood Rd. Alan Bates observed magpies harassing and squawking at an unconcerned low flying wedge tailed eagle. The galahs that regularly come and go have been plentiful and smooching in pairs perched on the electricity wires, the whip birds have moved back to our street for the spring, resuming their male/ female calling, and I saw what I think was a spotted pardalote.

60 Seconds of Mayhem

Our recent holiday was a bit like a Griswold's vacation if you seen those nutty movies. It started at Tyers where we pulled in for fuel and lunch on the way down to Lakes. As I began to drive out of the servo, Gord, sitting behind me, let out an loud roar..."STOP."

I had moved off while he still had his door open and his leg out of the car and the rear tyre had gone onto his foot. If I'd had a few more revs up it would have snapped his lower leg just above the ankle for sure. As it was we we were all a bit shaken but relieved he was alright.

The rain started about Bairnsdale and became heavier the closer we got to LE. The roof was leaking when we got to the house. The TV wouldn't work. The rain kept up most of the night. The pan catching the drip from the hall ceiling was in the way as I went to the toilet twice during the night. Bang crash.

The large retaining wall at the rear of the house has a decided bend in it, we discover when daylight comes next morning. Still raining on an off, too wet to inspect roof and attempt silicon repair. The rain dissipated after a couple of days but it remained freezing and windy. Never have we encountered such cold at Lakes before.

After much ringing around a landscaper arrived to inspect rear wall. It needs engineer's design he says, and council permit, there's complications, cost will depend on design and specifications. Ball park figure? Between 15 and 30k.

We bumped into dear Dorothy and Henrick down the street. Henry tells us he has been diagnosed with mesothielioma, there's nothing they can do, he doesn't have long to live. He worked at the power stations when a younger man and was exposed to asbestos. He is 86 and never before seen the inside of a hospital as a patient, till he was in for a week for biopsy in Melbourne. He escaped Poland after WW2, a refugee, after great suffering, A fine gentleman, an unfair end.

We managed to get a new telly from Retravision as the faulty one was in warranty, in time to watch the footy. Our team was flogged. We went fishing well into the bush past Bruthen, I lost my glasses, left them on the roof of the car when I tied hooks, then leaving them there as we drove off. We drove back down the rough rocky track to the creek, grid walked back. Gord found them, undamaged, phew!

Finally I shrugged off my reticence to work out in the cold and began pruning rampant tree and shrub growth up on the bank behind the house. Robbie came out to help and sliced the side of his finger off with brand new secateurs. Blood everywhere.

On the last evening of our last day we took the dogs for a last walk to Lake Bunga. Pip was out in front and was attacked by a large woolly German Shepherd. I sprinted to defend Pip and did a hammy, leaving me with no power to run or kick. Dogs had run back past me, there was much yelling and screaming. Lib was trying to kick G shepherd off Pip, no impact, then drag it off. We grabbed Pip. Shepherd took off after Snow and got her too. Robbie tried to sword the shepherd with the point of the umbrella. Miraculously both our dogs were unharmed.

I reckon it was all over in 60 seconds but in that time I strained the hamstring and Lib hurt her back. Two lessons learned...you never know what's about to come round the bend ahead...and, I think my effectiveness when urgent action is required has deteriorated badly with the advance of years. My sprinting days are well gone. If I hadn't known it before I do now. I have never felt my age like I did then and have since the incident. The confidence is shot. The thought that we could have brutally lost out two wonderful little dogs in the space of a minute sends a shiver to the soul.

The next day as we left to drive home after the big house clean, after midday, the clouds had all gone and the sun shone brilliantly. The last hour or so of the drive home was exceedingly difficult into the lowering sun. At least we arrived home all well, if sporting wounds and sore spots. Dogs too.

Tropical Fruit

Gord bought a bottle of tropical fruit at Aldi recently. Lib packed it in our pantry box and we've enjoyed it with yoghurt for breakfast this past couple of mornings. We all commented on what a pleasant change it was from the usual peaches, pears, apples. It contained pineapple, red and yellow papaya, guava and passionfruit juice according to the label and it sparked my memory of our visit to Dave Dickson at Charters Towers last year.

Dave's a keen gardener, if of the bush variety, and has surrounded his house with fruit trees and gets about the cattle station sowing pumpkin and melon seeds in strategic places after rain. We were in the garden talking about the Brahman cattle that, along with wild pigs, eat most of his pumpkins and melons, when Dave made an interesting comment.

"These cattle are not much good really. I reckon the country around here'd be better for growing pumpkins and melons and fruit trees than rearin' cattle."

The comment came back to me recently during the live cattle export controversy. Maybe Dave has a point. On the one hand we have millions of cattle roaming about big stations in our north, doing a great deal of environmental damage if you accept what conservationists say, with no value according to landowners if they can't be exported live for the meat trade, which in turn devalues the land; on the other hand we have thousands of refugees who have no place to live trying desperately to get to Australia risking death and detention.

Could it be possible that there's land somewhere up there in the north that could be used to settle these refugees and give them a home and an opportunity to grow food and perhaps enhance our country and it's land use?

Just a thought that came to me after enjoying breakfast. Politicians are always on about growing Australia. The growth may be better in the far north where there's a fairly reliable wet season than further reducing good farm land in the south with residential development and building desal plants to cater.

The Rain Tumbled Down in July

We took the back way, turning off the Princes Freeway at the second Moe turn off, past the power station at Yallourn North, then, after stopping at Tyers to make sure the dogs hadn't had an accident because of a dreadful odour in the car, and refuelling, we skirted through Glengarry and Nambrok and picked up the highway east of Sale. It's probably further in distance but a far more pleasant drive through rich farming country with hardly another car to contend with, and no cops or cameras.

It was a good feeling, being on holiday and cruising into Bairnsdale knowing there was only half an hour to go to get to Lakes Entrance, where we've gone every year for the last thirty to stay in Lib's family's holiday house. It's a comfortable old friend. Leaving Bairnsdale the light rain that had just started became heavier and the visibilty ahead deteriorated.

"Look at that ahead," I said to Lib, "We're heading right into some really heavy stuff."

Reaching the house the rain was still heavy. The roof was leaking in the hall so a pot was put there to catch the drip. It rained on and off through the night.

I walked this morning to Lake Bunga, coming back along the beach, then cutting across the golf course. A chestnut brown hawk with a damaged wing ran up and down the fence next to the sewage farm trying to avoid swooping magpies. An omen perhaps? A penguin flapped its wings helplessly on the beach as I (and the dogs) approached trying to get to the water. It couldn't stand up or walk. I watched a wave wash over it, thinking it would swim away, but it didn't, it struggled to get back out of the water. Not knowing how to help either hawk or penguin I walked on having decided my interference would probably not be helpful in the scheme of things. Many times I have wished I was skilled or trained in helping injured wildlife.

Both beach and golf course were deserted. Mother Ocean growled and heaved her protest at dirty brown water assaulting from the land. The golf course was spotted with pools and puddles. The rain started again. I had an umbrella and good boots, the dogs were saturated but unconcerned.

After breakfast I sat looking at the rain through the window, which Robbie describes as an 'East Coast Low'. He studies the weather charts on his lap top, which I've borrowed to do this post. He says it extends from here to Sydney and brings weather from the east, usually with extended periods of rain.

The rain doesn't worry me, so long as there are some breaks in it so I can walk. I'm on holiday. For months I've run around finding this and that and responding to what the phone dictates. Now I have some magical days of freedom to admire and enjoy the world around me and every waking and sleeping minute.

The Working Bee

The trials and tribulations of the Emerald Museum and Nobelius Heritage Park have been painful to me for about the past three years. There have been conflicts of opinions, personalities and philosophy, not involving me directly for the most part, but I've been aboard the ship in the storm and have suffered sea sickness. I have avoided posting about it as this being a public forum I have been fearful that I may offend some of the participants causing the ship to founder finally.

This time last year at our June meeting our President resigned, this following two resignations, including that of a lady committee member whom he was trying to cajole into the role of coordinator of the Museum Advisory Group that he wanted to form along the lines of the Park Advisory Group (PAG), which was and still is, coordinated by yours truly.

The previous year, ie two years ago, 2009, at our Biannual General Meeting, we could not get anyone to accept nomination for secretary or treasurer. I had accepted nomination as president, reluctantly, but it looked like our existence as a section 86 Committee of Management of Cardinia Shire Council would cease, until some weeks later one of our local councillors found someone with an impeccable record as an administrator willing to come in as President of a new committee with the number of members reduced from 12 to 9 to make management and control easier.

The new committee didn't really get up and running till November 2009. I was appointed park curator, a role I had filled since 2000, and made a concerted effort to get behind the new president and committee and make improvements in the park. The new president tried to get the rest of the committee to leave behind the animosities that existed in the museum in the twelve months leading up to the 2009 election, which had seen much friction culminating in the resignation of our long standing president, immediately followed by that of the secretary and soon after the resignation of the VP who had stepped into to the Chair. And our treasurer who was 92 by then gave it away too at the end of the financial year.

A schemozzle? Our President thought so last year after trying unsuccessfully to pull the museum side of things together, so he pulled the pin. At the meeting where he announced his resignation there were only four members present which meant that after he resigned there were only three so we no longer had a quorum and the meeting closed. A Council officer, who was in attendance obviously due to the circumstances, then took the floor asking the three remaining members to agree to a 'recess' of the committee for the immediate future while the council sought independent assessment of the museum collection, practices, and direction. We agreed, it seemed there was no alternative. Frankly I was relieved.

A week or two later one of the committee who had been away at the time of the 'recess meeting', circulated the question, "Why do we have to go into 'recess', there is no provision for 'recess' in the deed of delegation." Considerable public agitation followed and a meeting was called to discuss the matter. On the day of the meeting, the then secretary, who was present when the Pres resigned at the 'recess meeting', and who had asked if he could chair the meeting that day if someone else would take minutes, sent me an email saying he would not be attending, we wouldn't have a quorum therefore, so we could not make a decision.

I attended the meeting as scheduled in any case to find about forty people present and somehow found myself chairing the meeting, probably because it was felt I had been with the committee some 20 years and knew more about all the circumstances than anyone else. Incredibly, another of our members, who had been overseas and had just returned, was present which did give us a quorum, and after a long meeting a motion was passed that we rescind our previous agreement to go into 'recess' which was made without a quorum, and that we advise council that we wish to continue as a COM and rebuild with their patience and assistance.

I have been acting chairman at meetings since and we've doggedly hung on, finding new members to replace those who resigned, which included the secretary after the meeting to rescind the 'recess'. We have also formed a 'Friend's Group'. We have devised one year work programs and a five year project timeline. There is obviously a lot more detail and intrigue that occurred along the way, some of which annoyed me enough to act as a spur for my continued participation. We still have major hurdles and problems. I have been nominated as President for our election of a new committee at our BGM next month. The assessment by the independent consultant, required by council before they will commit to support with our annual maintenance grant, begins in early July. We have to pay for it ourselves from funds we have accumulated from fund raising in the past. It is to cost $15,000.

Last January I was weeding the rosemary and lavender plantation in the park when a man with a camera came up and introduced himself. Patrick explained he was the official photographer for the salvia society who have a plantation in our park, and that he loves the park and has been visiting it for years. He said he'd send me some photos by email, which he did, and that he'd help organizing a newsletter and Friend's Group, which he did, by himself really.

We had a working bee, our second, last Saturday with the Friend's Group. The attendance was poor due to the mid winter timing and the hostile weather of the day. Three new people turned up as a result of our publicity, and they were cheerful and enthusiastic, a real tonic. We planted trees, did some weeding and mulching, cleared a drain and tidied up.

Coming home Saturday afternoon I felt so happy. There's nothing like new blood. My confidence for the future has raised a notch or two despite my reticence to be president for the two years of the next committee. There are people on our committee and in our 'Friends' who give tirelessly of their time and energy, and who restore my faith in this community.

I'll ask Patrick to send me a few photos of our recent work and include them on this post later

20 Years Nicotine Free

May came and went without me being aware that it marked the 20th anniversary of my giving up the fags. I thought of it the other day when I saw a boy about 16yo having a smoke walking to the school bus stop in the main street. A big lump of a lad he was, with wavy hair, dishevelled uniform and the most disinterested look about him that you could imagine.

Apart from his size he reminded me of me at that age, dragging myself about with no motivation and little if any understanding of why it was I was forced to do the things I had to endure, and snatching a smoke at every opportunity. I felt sorry for him.

I started smoking one day after a friend offered me one at age 15 and was hooked right then till age 39 in 1991. It was my boys aged 5 and 3 imitating me smoking with their drinking straws that finally motivated me to be a non smoker, which suddenly seemed a better option as a father figure role model. Fortunately neither of my boys as they grew older showed any interest in smoking. I didn't nag at them not to smoke, knowing that didn't work in my case; my parents were crusading non smokers who warned and threatened at every opportunity.

I would have liked to have gone up to the young bloke and briefly told him the agony I had breaking the habit and advise him to stop now before the habit got a strong hold on him, but it would have been more likely counter productive. He must be aware of all the negatives of smoking already yet he chooses to smoke anyway. An old bloke like me giving him an unasked for lecture would probably only make him want to light up another straight away.

It's a funny thing, nicotine addiction. Some people suffer it worse than others. For the most part Lib was one of those who could take it or leave it, and has spent most of her adult life as a non smoker with bouts of social smoking. I could never do that, I was a full on addict and I'm so happy I beat it back when I did. The key was telling myself continually that I now chose not to smoke and that every day I didn't smoke was a good day because I didn't smoke, and my being was clean of nicotine, no matter what else might go wrong.

It's still a great feeling when I remind myself. I suppose it's about respect for self, which I think opens you up to a whole lot more good thoughts and vibes. But I don't deny my adolescence was troubled and I thought back then the fag habit helped me through a lot of emotional stress. Maybe that young bloke really needs a fag to help him face up to catching the bus and enduring hours cooped up in a class room being overloaded with stuff he has no interest in. It's not for me to judge.

Last week Gord and I went to the funeral of a young local bloke who went through school with Gord. He was a big, strong strikingly handsome young man of 25, a fitness fanatic with a partner and many friends, and seemingly a wonderful life ahead. He took his own life. Some years ago another of Gord's childhood tribe was killed in a car accident. Another of his friends died of cancer a few years ago.

You won't find me getting around giving smokers a hard time.

Comfort in the Kitchen

Last week I had the urge to cook. Monday morning, (after midnight Sunday night actually) I kicked off by preparing the ingredients for a meat sauce for pasta. Monday morning before my appointment with the rheumatologist I browned the mince and tossed everything into the crockpot before leaving.

Lib asked me to buy chicken schnitzels for dinner so I visited Dandenong plaza where there's a large fuit and veg shop with produce much cheaper than in Emerald, as well as a butcher, fish shop, and anything else you want. In the butcher shop next to the schnitzels were ox tails on special, so ox tail stew was the go Tuesday morning.

Grant, a keen vegie gardener who lives where I pick camellia on Tuesdays, offered me some leeks, so Wednesday morning it was potatoe and leek soup. Thursday morning I eyed off a pumpkin we grew at home last summer, thinking to myself that this year's pumpkins were watery and not premium as a plate vegie, so Thursday morning it was pumpkin soup.

This cooking of course involves quite a bit of cutting up and preparation, and has an amazing calming affect on me. It's wonderful therapy, a bridge over troubled water. I think it's in the affirmative action it gives me, and the focus on something simple but helpful and enjoyed by the whole family.

Slow cookers are great as you can leave them on low all day. I bought another won at ALDI recently for $29. Can you believe that? Yesterday I did a pea and ham soup to go with the wintry weather. The fridge and freezer is stocked with delicious soup and stew.

No Temporal Arteritis

My appointment with the surgeon in Dandenong today confirmed that I do not have temporal arteritis. He advised me to continue with the cortisone and have a blood test later this week as requested by the rheumatologist, and to see her next Monday as scheduled, as there's a possibility I have polymyalgic rheumatosis. I'm sure I don't, I'm pain free and have felt well for some days since the strange events of last week. I will follow through, another blood test and trip to Dandenong to have the specialist finalize this bizarre episode will not inconvenience me greatly.

I'm grateful to be healthy, and hope I remain so.

The Intricate Tangle

I'm still reading 'War and Peace'. Last week I read that on 2 Sep 1812, as Napoleon's army entered the semi deserted Moscow and spread out starwise and reached the area where Pierre Bezuhof was staying, events found Pierre in a dream like state.

He had left his home two days earlier, "solely to escape the intricate tangle of life's daily demands which held him fast, and which in his present condition he was incapable of unravelling."

That simple description struck me as so pertinent to my own feelings of the past several months and particularly recent days.

After my late night call from the doctor advising me to go to the nearest hospital straight away I have been back the doctor the next day, a rheumatologist the following Monday, a surgeon the next day, and Monash Medical centre last Thursday for bilateral artery biopsy, and I now await tomorrow's appointment with the surgeon to remove the stitches and follow up with rheumatologist next Monday to learn the result of the biopsy.

I feel fit and well but extremely frustrated that I have lost my productivity with all this interruption to my routine and the running around and the considerable expenses (excess and gaps) above my private health insurance cover.

Were it not possible to read my book a little more than usual and run the lovely 'September Song' of Leah Flanagan (whom I discovered recently on U-Tube)through my brain at the most unexpected and perhaps innapropriate of times, I think, like Pierre, I may have bordered insanity. Whereas he resolved to locate and assassinate Napoleon, I think I would have strangled a receptionist or two at the very least.

We do indeed exist in an intricate tangle and are as vulnerable as bad luck would have it.

A Quiet Week Please? Not Likely

With the Mother's Day thing over for another year I was looking for a quiet peaceful week but it was not to be. I'm short of time so I'll use a copy of an email I just wrote to a friend to explain.

Thanks Pat,

I've had no severe pain since the episode after my doctor visit on Wednesday and after sleeping most of that afternoon I've felt quite well. Doctor took more blood tests Thursday am, after saying a possibility was 'temporal arterioitis', which can cause sudden blindness if untreated, and I worked Thursday arvo no problems.
That night about 11pm I was preparing to go to bed when the phone rang and another doctor from the clinic in Berwick told me the pathology people had rung to say my tests were done and I should go to casualty at nearest hospital straight away. So I did and was at Ferntree Gully hospital till about 4.30 am where they did more tests and took exrays etc. They said my blood tests had improved, my exrays and other test showed no problem and as it was unlikely I had the TA they sent me home.
Next day, yesterday, I worked in the morning then went to doctor again that afternoon. He agreed with hospital that it was unlikely I had the TA, as I seemed well and pain free but he suggested I keep taking the cortisone tabs and antibiotics the hospital had put me on over the weekend, have more tests on Monday and see him again on Tuesday.
He rang again last night to say he'd sought advice from a specialist who is in the auto immune area and she said TA can behave in the manner that I had exhibited and she could see me on Monday, so I'm going to see her in Dandenong Monday morning. It's all very tiresome now as I feel fine, but I'm happy to follow through on it because the pain I had was unpleasant for a couple of days and terrible for the brief burst, and going blind is not something I would relish.
I'll let you know next week. Thanks for your concern.

Carey

Fair Dinkum, I'm Flabbergasted (2)

On Friday 29 April I came home after a busy day. Our overseas visitors were still with us and before I hit the bathtub I checked my email. I'd had an appointment that afternoon with the local State MP at 3.30pm re drainage issues in Nobelius Park, and learned at 2.00pm when I went home to pick up some paperwork that something had come up and the meeting had been cancelled. I had been rushing to get things done in order to make the meeting, and I also learned from the answering machine that a late foliage order had come in, one our customers was obviously preparing early for Mother's Day. I switched from meeting mode to picking mode and struggled through, arriving home feeling like a truck had run over me after a testing week.

There were several emails as is the norm these days, including one from the politician's secretary asking me ring to have the meeting rescheduled. The email on top, sent only a short time earlier, was from a name I didn't recognize but was vaguely familiar. It was from Barry and Lesley, and the subject was 'Google is Amazing'.

You could have knocked me over with a feather. In the email Lesley explained she had found a box containing letters from me during a clean up at her house and out of curiosity she put 'Carey Williams' into google and found herself reading my blog. This was the first she had heard of me for 33 years and her email to me was ditto for me.

How come Lesley had letters from me in a box in her house? Late in January 1974, aged 21, I caught a train with Ricky Ralph at Spencer St. We travelled to Brisbane where we separated, he flying to Mt. Isa or somewhere enroute his return to a cattle station where he'd worked as a jackeroo, I enroute to Qld Ag College at Gatton where I had enrolled. I called in to visit an aunt who lived in Brisbane where I stayed for a weekend. For most of the time I was there it rained heavily, the Brisbane River flooded so I was stuck in Brisbane for sometime, before getting to the Ag. College and starting the academic year, a year that was pivotal and for me a lot of reasons, not the least of which was that I made great friends in Dave Suters and Dave Dickson who have both have played roles in my life, and that I was to learn about beekeeping, a wonderful opportunity.

I also met Lesley. I don't understand these things fully but if I said I "fell in love" I don't think I'd be wrong. Maybe "had a crush" would be a better term, or "infatuated". I realize it's part of being human. We didn't have a romantic relationship, Lesley had a boyfriend (Barry), and I accepted she was not available, although my affection didn't diminish. The beekeeping students (3 only) sat in on other classes for things like entomology, botany and business studies and I was in Lesley's entomology class and recall being her prac partner once which had me in quite a state of concealed excitement and agitation.

I returned to Victoria at the end of 1974 and wrote to Lesley in 1975 knowing that she was again at the college doing the third year of a Diploma in rural technology, if my memory serves me correctly. We became pen pals and corresponded for a few years until about 1978 when I stopped writing after she and Barry married. She sent me a piece of wedding cake. I think I'd secretly hoped their romance would not last, and perhaps I was a little piqued. Around that time there was much happening in my life.

Letter writing was common back then. The was no email or mobile phones or texting so people actually sat down and wrote to each other and waited for a reply which may come in some days or weeks depending on the circumstances of the recipient. I was always a keen letter writer, until recent times, now it seems blogging satisfies the urge.

I last saw Lesley on Fraser Island. Dave Suters and I drove to Qld., I think in Feb 1978. We were stopped on the beach for some reason and a Landcruiser coming along stopped to see if we were OK. Amazingly the occupants were Barry and Lesley.

Last October when Lib and I were on Magnetic Island, while walking along the beach, I wondered at that remote coincidence and about Lesley and what her life had been, regretting that I'd stopped writing and wouldn't see or hear of her again. I felt genuine sorrow about it. And now, totally unexpectedly, I have contact again.

I replied to Lesley's email briefly saying how amazed and delighted I was to hear from her and asking for some news of the last 33 years when she had time. A second email came with some news and a great family photo. Looking at it puts a big smile on my dial, so does just thinking about it. I have miraculously found my pen pal again, 37 years after we met, in another record flood year.

Take care Lesley and Barry. Thank you Blogger.  

Fair Dinkum, I'm Flabbergasted

Somehow I managed to go through a whole month without putting finger to keyboard (to blog) for the first time I think since I started blogging. To my friends who may have checked me for news I apologize.

April was an eventful month but is somewhat blurred already in my ageing faculties. Early in the month I spent a weekend extracting honey, spare time was spent on the end of a spade or fork trying to get some garden beds ready for autumn sowing, finally some work in Nobelius Park started to happen which took what was left of my remaining energy in order to co-ordinate it, and along the way I hardly had time to have a conversation with Lib except for Easter when we went to Wangaratta to see Molly from Friday to Sunday (which included some serious cutting back in Moll's garden). When we arrived back Sunday Ian Sinclair and his son were at our house having arrived on the Saturday after travelling from W.A. They stayed for a week, leaving last Saturday when I took them to the airport to fly back to Canada.

Ian wanted me to go to the football with him, he hadn't been for about 20 years so we went on the Tuesday after Easter Monday to Hawthorn/ Geelong at MCG. Pretty ordinary game I thought but without my team in it I may have been too uninvolved emotionally. Geelong was far too good for them and impressed me as a seriously good team still.

So Easter was a wipe out as far as an opportunity to catch up on work. C'est La Vie! But I haven't yet mentioned what flabbergasted me and I'm out of time so if the above is mundane believe me the next post won't be as I'll cut straight to the chase.

Back of Boort

I bumped into Herbie Lamble in the supermarket the other day. Herb and his wife Vickie run a tour business and travel all over the place. He told me Vickie is in New Zealand with a tour at the moment and he was in Western Victoria with the bus last week. He said he couldn't believe what he saw. There's ancient lake beds there that haven't had water in them since the 1800's. He said you looked out over vast areas of water that for more than a hundred years till recently was farmland. Hay shed rooves, grain bins etc, stick up out of the water. Apparently it may take these lakes up to ten years to dry up again now that there full.

I had a phone call from Ian Sinlair whose was at the Warrumbungles in NSW. Everything's going fine including Lib's car, except he's had some bad news, a real dampener on his trip. His wife Elke who is in Canada with their ten yo son Jethro wants to split with him. What a bugger to learn of while he and his older son are away for 3 months in Australia. He was still planning to get to WA and be back mid April to go to the footy with me before he flies home. I'm hoping by then he and Elke have reconciled but it would be difficult to achieve you'd think while on different sides of the world.

Dicko rang me from 'Percy Springs' near Charter's Towers. They've had a heap of rain and couldn't get into town as has often been the case this season, but their house which they have lovingly restored did not flood. Dave said cyclone Yasey was fearful in noise but they had no damage to the house, the worst of it being further south. Dave said he thought all the birds would be blown away to WA. There was none to be seen after the cyclone passed except for a few dead ducks smashed up along the fence, but within 24 hours the birds were all back as if nothing had happened. How they survive such a massive storm has Dave tossed, and I sure don't know. It's a miracle of nature.

I've been so busy with farm and park and museum stuff that I feel my life is reaching ruination or crisis point.
Not much time for writing reading or clear thinking. I'm almost over the immediate hump and should make a better fist of things shortly. Ricky Ralph tipped 8 in the first round of the footy ( we pay both teams when there's a draw) and has jumped me by three. What a tinny bastard he is to score on those two come from behind last kick victories.

A Quick Update

There hasn't been much free time to post on my blog and I'm not going into a lengthy excuse. But I have to tell you this. I had breakfast with Lib in 'The Two Buoys' cafe at Dromana last Sunday morning. The food was sensational.

We'd been to a wedding the day before, that of Nicholas and Brook Harkins held at the Montalta Winery at Red Hill. Nick and Brook met as teenagers at Emerald Secondary College some eleven years and began a romance that endures. A bit like Lib and me (we are still on our honeymoon), although we met long after our school years. The setting, the food, the wine, and the happiness of the participants and guests made for a memorable occasion.

I was hung over in the morning after our overnight stay at the less than grand Safety Beach Motor Lodge which has seen better days but did the job. I blame my hangover on the superb Montalta shiraz which was so good, and in plentiful supply, that I sipped, drank, and then quoffed. Good wine is there to be enjoyed.

The menu at 'The Two Buoys' didn't inspire me, all I wanted to do really was get home and take the honey off the beehive at 'Sunset' that I missed last time and extract it by sundown. So I went for something I'd not heard of before, I think it was 'Heurvos Rancheros', for which there was no more info. I was surprised and pleased, it was spinach, fried eggs, jalapenos, salsa, on a fritter of tortilla or something. The spice and lots of cold water blew away the hangover. Lib had a mushroom omelet with truffle flavouring which she said was superb.

To John and Raylene who are our very good friends, parents of the groom, who now reside at Mt. Martha, I say, "GET YOURSELVES DOWN TO 'THE TWO BUOYS' ONE SUNDAY MORNING."

Breakfast was followed by a stroll along the Dromana jetty watching people catch garfish. We were home in the early afternoon and the weather held enabling me to get the honey off and extracted.

Gembrook Park Drainage

I attended a public meeting today which was called to discuss the storm water damage caused by the housing developments to the north of the park. Erosion in the gully has increased as the flow of the water has with more houses built and the drained area enlarged, by the piping of storm water, to the one outfall at the head of the gully. There are many more houses yet to be built so it will increase.

This erosion has been of great concern to the Gembrook Park Friends group for several years. Installation of a water retarding basin where this outfall occurs was a requirement on the developers by the Cardinia Council  planning permit system. It hasn't worked from day one. The pipe going out at the bottom is too large and the water is funneled straight down the gully whenever rain makes the pipes flow.

Council has argued that the retarding basin is there for the 'big rain' event. We had in early Feb what the consulting engineer suggested today was a one in a hundred year storm, maintaining the basin would have done its job. A member of the Friends Group who visited on the Saturday morning immediately after the rain said there was no water in it and no sign that it had filled up at all eg flattened vegetation.

The engineer outlined possible action options-
1. Deepen the basin and reduce the size of the outfall pipe. Cost $90,000
2. Install a rock chute, designed strategically to slow the water and allow regeneration, a couple of metres wide, down into the park to where the gully floor or creek bed is less steep and more stable. Cost $190,000.
3. Divert water from basin to Pakenham Rd by means of a pipe all the way to the Cockatoo Creek. Cost $490,000
4. Build a series of litter pits at points along the drainage system before the water from the various pipes reaches the retarding basin (which doesn't retard). Cost $250,000.

This is all from memory so there may be some inaccuracy in my figures but the meeting was minuted by a council person and I will receive a copy soon.

The environment guy and the engineer from council preferred option no.2. Most of the people present who were mainly Gembrook Park people but also some others, voted for option 3, saying option 4 should also happen later. Now it's a question of funding.

This appalling situation is a stuff up of the greatest magnitude. The Gembrook Bushland Park is in my opinion the best thing about the town. Its degradation by housing development is a tragedy, and I can only hope somehow the authorities that charge rates ie Council and YVWater, along with the State Government, can find the funds to put it right.

I remember writing to Premier Jeff Kennett, before a road or house had been constructed, suggesting that the land north of the park should not be developed for housing but should be planted out with trees as a buffer to the Gembrook Park. A reply came from the head of a department saying the land had already been rezoned residential and the Gov't had finished its buy back program of private land in the state.

Who knows where this will end? After seeing the ineffectiveness of the Water Sensitive Urban Drainage scheme through Nobelius Park in Emerald, after a cost of $500,000, I'm not confident of a resolution.

Wounded Knee

I'm happy to say that I'm well after another health issue since my last post. The next day was hot. Finding some sprinklers not working at the farm with sufficient pressure I crawled into an mass of overgrown shrub and weed looking for the leaking pipe causing water to spill down a bank and into a neighbour's drive and down the hill. My knee cap twinged painfully.

The next day, suffering some discomfort, I walked with a bit of a limp. Alarmed I was not. The following day, the 21st, I drove to Tullamarine to pick up Ian Sinclair in the morning who was arriving with his son from Canada. Ian is a family friend from right back to Mt. Waverley days and went through primary school and tech school the same year as Jod. I had orders for foliage needing to be be picked that afternoon so after a lunch of salad rolls off I went up the tree. My knee had stiffened somewhat with the drive to the airport and back so it wasn't work I relished.

The climbing aggravated the knee. The legs do the supporting and bracing and balancing while you twist and turn reaching about to cut foliage with the pole cutter or the handsaw. By days end I was in agony and couldn't bend my knee sufficiently to apply the brake so Gord had to drive home. The pain continued right to the end of January so as it turned out, with first my back and then the knee, for about half of January I could barely walk.

Our Canadian visitors stayed till yesterday when they headed off to prospect for gold with a metal detector somewhere in the golden triangle. With the knee and visitors it's been difficult to focus on responsibilities as I normally would. Not that Ian and Culan were demanding, but the computer rooms were converted to bedrooms and the presence of overseas friends has you talking more and thinking business less. Yesterday it was 40C on our deck and I had a Nobelius Park meeting in the afternoon, out of which came plenty for me to do. I get the feeling February will also be tough as I have so much catching up to do.

Finishing on a bright note, I managed a second honey extract last weekend and it was our 30th wedding anniversary on Jan 31, which we celebrated in fine style. Thirty years married. I'm pleased with that. Lib is a wonderful friend and life ally. I'm very lucky. 

More on Doug

After a difficult week nursing my crook back and unbelievable humidity, I can say my recovery is underway. I spent Saturday moving everything out of the tool shed, cleaning it, and moving in the honey extractor and tanks and setting up. Sunday was kind; a perfect, still, sunny day for me to take some honey from the bees and do the extracting thing. None too soon I might add. Some of the honey was already candying on the outside of the combs. It would have been gathered earlier and placed around what would have been brood in the middle of the combs in spring. The fresher honey gathered more recently and placed by the bees where the brood was before, was liquid.

I would guess that about 15% of the honey was left candied in the combs, but at least I have some stickies to put back on the hives for hopefully another fill. There's still another full box on each hive so I have more to do before I can feel too pleased with myself. And of course I have yet to strain, settle and bottle the honey extracted yesterday. The back stood up well to the heavy work. I worked slowly and carefully to avoid further damage.

Of inspiration to me while doing this solo work, was my fond memory of Doug Twaits whom I mentioned in my last post. The extractor I use, and indeed the ancestors of my bees, were Doug's. I first met Doug at a Nobelius Heritage Park annual family picnic day. Gus Ryberg had organized us to supervise the car parking. Gus and Doug had a friendship going back some forty years, having worked together as nurserymen in the early 1950's.

On our car parking duty Doug told me he started a garden on a twelve acre property above the country club soon after he married. He planted many young trees; oak, beech, sequoia, fir, Camellias and others before moving away shortly after. The property stayed in his wife's family and she inherited it at some point I think, if she didn't own it all along. Doug and his wife moved back to Emerald some 35 years after leaving. Doug's wife had cancer and she died soon after. Doug remarried and stayed in Emerald to enjoy and maintain the now mature garden. At this first meeting he gave me his phone number and invited me to ring him and see the garden some time which I did a month or two later.

We toured the garden, I was amazed at the growth of the trees over forty years. The top garden was orchard and roses and in the middle was a beehive that was neglected and rotting. As we walked past Doug said, "You don't know anything about bees do you?"

I hadn't kept bees for a number of years, having sold them and my equipment, frustrated at not having the time to do it properly. Doug added that he'd wanted to keep bees ever since being a POW in Germany where there was a Scottish sergeant who gave lessons in beekeeping. In the prison camp, according to Doug, were people from all walks of life. The Germans let them run educational classes so in the years he was there there were a great many opportunities to learn in subjects that you would have no exposure to in normal life. He'd bought the hive when he moved back to Emerald but had opened it only once or twice before ill health in the form of three heart attacks afflicted him. He had new beehive material and brand new extracting equipment in the shed, never used, but said he'd now lost his confidence to tackle replacing the bees into new material.

So I helped him. We enjoyed building up the hive numbers and producing honey over a few years. By then there was a fair bit of blackberry taking hold around the orchard and so that Doug could clean up properly I moved the bees to my place, temporarily was the intention. They were there for a year or two, I think Doug was pleased to be able to mow through his orchard with the ride on. He sold his property at age 86 looking for less workload, and would have moved to Lakes Entrance in a matter of weeks had he not been killed. Doug's wife Lyn gifted the bees and equipment to me.

Doug was a remarkable man. He loved nature. He gave up pig farming because he loved his pigs and hated selling them for slaughter. He did youth work in regional Victoria. He used his wrestling skills and knowledge of physical fitness to help troubled adolescents, as he had with his inmates in the POW camp. Managing the goldmine in New Guinea he had extraordinary success by ensuring the native workers had good diet and rest. Previous managers had mistreated them with the result that illness and lack of motivation by the workers was a constant problem. As well as a champion wrestler Doug was an all round athlete, winning a major bike race in the 1930's and was an accomplished competitive swimmer. These were popular sports in the 1930's. Later in his working life he established a big nursery out Essendon way and with a mate was the first to do the gardening shows on Melbourne radio on Saturday mornings. He was articulate and intelligent.

Doug was compassionate to the underdog. It was his gentle caring nature that endeared him to people. He was a great friend. He loved a beer and a yarn at the end of the day. My memory of him could not but give me inspiration. In Gus Ryberg's book the Four W's, at Gus's request, Doug gave an account of his wartime experience. Without checking for detail, as I recall his battalion on Crete fought a rear guard against a German army with far superior air support. They ran out of ammunition and were stranded as the British evacuated by ship. This after the Nth. African campaign, a battle in Greece in which Hitler's crack paratroops were decimated, and surviving the sinking of their ship by a fighter bomber. He nearly died of dysentery and exposure on the train trip to Germany in cattle trucks in freezing conditions with no ablutions. He eventually escaped the Stalag toward the end of the war and made his own way to England hitching a ride with an American pilot.

He survived all of that to be claimed on Wellington Road at the Berwick turnoff after what must have been an error of judgment on his part.

A Good Year For Hydrangeas

Dave Suters' Hydie

Doug Twaits' Hydies

The plentiful rain this last spring and early summer has revitalized our hydrangeas. Those in the lower photo were struck for me by my friend Doug Twaits, I would say about fifteen years ago, maybe more. He took some hardwood cuttings in winter and planted them in a row in his vegie garden then dug them up and gave them to me in the spring. I Potted them and later planted them in semi shade under our eucalyptus and they did very well for a few years as I manured, pruned and watered them.

Along came our prolonged drought and after several years of struggle to keep the water up it all became too difficult. Water restrictions meant I was limited to a small water tank on the shed so I let them go. As conditions get drier the eucies get more voracious, massing roots wherever you water, and I was wasting my time, particularly as the hydies did not produce a financial return to speak of. Amazingly most survived the most extreme conditions and neglect although some died and others are stunted as they hardly had energy to return.

But hey presto as the photo shows we have a show this year. Robbie weeded them. They were full of wire grass and blackberry and the pokers were taking over. If there's a heaven Doug would have made the cut I reckon and if those in heaven can see back here I'm sure Doug would be pleased as punch. Doug died in a car accident in 2002 I think, aged 86. He was an Australian champion wrestler in the late1930'sand missed Olympic selection as the 1940 games were cancelled. He was captured on Crete by the Germans and spent the rest of the war in Stalag 83 in Germany. He had an interesting life post war including learning the building trade and building houses for the country club estate in Emerald, pig farmer, nurseryman, gold mine manager in New Guinea, nurseryman again, and naturalist bird expert writing for the Trader in his retirement. We kept bees togther at his place for a few years before he died.

The other hydie, top photo, we bought at a fete in Eaglehawk about twenty years ago. We went to a fair at which our friend Dave Suters, whom I visited in Albury on Boxing Day, was playing and marching in his Bendigo Pipe Band. We have always called it Dave's Hydrangea. It too has struggled through the drought but has the advantage of being more in a garden than bush setting.

My friend Grace Delarue offered me a big old Hydie last winter. I'd picked flowers from it for years, it's a particularly good one. Her gardener Glen Binstead dug around it and we put a rope round the base and pulled it out with his Ford station wagon. It has done well with all the rain and I took numerous cuttings and planted them strategically on the other side of our house, the west side but where they get some tree shade. Most of them have grown but I've had to water them through a few dry weeks which isn't too bad as we have water tanks now that have been full nearly all this summer. It rained over 20ml this afternoon again topping them up.

On a not so happy note, I hurt my back on Jan 4 the day after my last post. I was cutting long grass in our steep paddock with a brushcutter when I stepped backwards into a wombat hole giving my back severe jarring. That night it went WHANG as I got out of the lounge chair and the next day it was all downhill till I was virtually unable to walk, with agonizing spasms. Six days later I resumed my morning walk with great discomfort, this morning, and I'm still in quite a bit of pain with the back locking up on me intermittently with the accompanying spasm agony. Needless to say I haven't been able to work, exascerbating my predicament. I should have extracted honey last weekend but no way could I and I'm praying I'll be able to next weekend. The honey on the bees is ground flora which candies quickly, and if it candies in the combs before I extract well it's good night nurse for this year as it won't come out and I have no more combs for any more honey which may be coming as there's a bit of messmate blossom starting.

A crook back is a disaster in my particular circumstances. I have a lot of beech to pick for orders tomorrow. Jod has covered for me this last week, picking all the easier stuff. I'm hoping to have made a miraculous recovery by tomorrow. Jod can't pick the higher harder stuff, that has always been my task. It's not an easy life for self employed farmer/gardeners. I think of my retired in laws with their first div tattslotto sized super payouts with some mirth, particularly when I hear them whingeing about this or that, but it does not help me and I don't want the tone of this blog to descend into miserable self pity so shut up Carey and go to bed. Goodnight.

PS. I'm enjoying War and Peace although I'm only up to about page 400 of 1400.