Christmas 2020

 7.00 AM.

Well we made it. Lib's gone to work. I've got the washing on. It's beautifully quiet outside. Not a vehicle on the road when I went out to bring the the bins in. Yes, garbos work Christmas day (I heard the truck about 6am). Not a soul to be seen in the street. Not a breath of wind. Looks like a nice day ahead. Think I'll go lie down again for an hour or so, before getting busy doing vegies for dinner, preparing a batch of dog food for the coming week, and wrapping a couple of gifts for Lib. She's the only one I do. Just a bit perfume and a couple of books. Tradition.

Boxing Day 7 AM

Lib's gone to work again. She doesn't seem to mind. She knows the end is in sight, we are soon to retire, she's happy to earn what she can while she can and help them out at work while they go through difficulties of staff shortage due to illness etc. Officially she does 2.5 days a week but she's been doing more since we moved, by her choice.

Gord Rob and I had Xmas lunch at the farm. It went well. Meredith and her daughters did all the food. Jod behaved. I had a busy morning before we left. we arrived about 1 PM. Nice feast, lovely seeing Meredith's four grandchildren aged 15?(Evie, 13?Ella) down to 6 (Toby)- Annie's kids, and Grace 8? Rosie's daughter. Grace gave a violin performance, her dad Mat is a music teacher at Caulfield Grammar. Amazing. After lunch and presents I sowed some butter bean seeds in the vegie garden.We got back to Gembrook at about 5pm to ready for our feast , just the four of us about 8pm, roast turkey and veg with ham also and cream cake, gift from farm for Gord's birthday.

In the morning I put a post on my Facebook AF private group saying I was considering having a glass of good red with Xmas dinner, just one I promised. I was overwhelmed by the response, 40+ comments by the time we left for lunch telling me NO don't do it in short. Too risky. I took their advice and watched Lib and Rob enjoy the Monolith 2015 Shiraz while i stuck to my AF alternative. I did take a sip from Lib's glass and mouthed it to check if the taste was the same for me as it would have been a year ago. No it wasn't, seemed very strong, but yes lovely aftertaste, I could see how I could easily be re seduced by wine witch. So happy I took advice from AF Facebook friends and didn't. 355 days now AF. Ten days to reach one year target, then reassess, but think I'll continue AF. Comments on Facebook post reached 80+ now, later ones congratulating me and saying how glad they were I stayed the course.

I have no interest in Boxing Day Test beyond wishing Mathew Wade well. I have been amazed at the huge media coverage of the cricket. So much of our society, politics and economy is media driven. Marketing and advertising sets the tone and direction, including the consumption of alcohol culture and gambling. pretty scary when you detach and look at it.

Going to friend Maria's with Gord after lunch for Boxing Day get together.  

Farewell Long John

Last Friday, as has been my habit in recent weeks, I told the wholesaler there'd be no beech picked for afternoon pick up. I've been on the beech for five weeks since we moved on November 6. It's physically demanding work, as any sort of work above your head is. At my advancing age I figure four days of it in a row (last week it was five as I started on Sunday to satisfy a big order for Monday) is enough. So I have used Friday to catch up on other things easier on the body.

Like having my van serviced as I did last week. As it happened, I also chose to attend a funeral service Friday afternoon, that of John Willington, at Bull's in Pakenham at 2pm. Three years ago I posted about John, before Christmas, after I visited him having learned he had been diagnosed with inoperable pancreatic cancer and given a prognosis of weeks only to live.

I saw the notice in the obituaries on Tuesday when I read the paper in the bath. Lib was working so I couldn't use her car but Gord said I could use his, and he'd come to the funeral as he knew and liked John also. We left half after midday to have lunch at Nando's and do our Friday shopping early at Coles Pakenham. 

We were still early for the service and while most people were outside waiting I went into the chapel and sat quietly some rows back from the front, with only a handful of other people, John's wife and relatives, sitting in the front row. On the way in I was given a picture card with John's smiling face on the front and some writing on the back acknowledging and thanking those attending and others for their thoughts. The big screen at the front had a slide of John leaning on a post in his front yard with his loved Land Rover behind him. Soft music was playing. I felt like crying, and at that moment I felt huge affection for John and admiration for the  friendship and respect he had shown my family over nearly forty years. And his positive attitude and accepting of his situation over the last three years.  

People filtered in and the chapel filled. The slide show started, mapping John's life from young man through all his milestones and family activities. Songs were played while the slide show progressed, 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow' by that male singer with the gentle voice, and 'What a Wonderful World'. I could not think of more appropriate songs. The urge I had to cry passed when the service got underway, probably as I was focused on hearing of John's life from when his family migrated from England in 1952 when he was six years old and he grew up in Carrum Downs. He took an electrician apprenticeship after secondary school in Frankston and was lucky to survive an electrical explosion in those years which caused a lengthy hospital stay and recuperation. He married Raelene and moved to Emerald mid 1970's and started his own business early eighties aged 37.

After the service it was nice to catch up with some old Emeraldites, particularly my old mate Will Marshall. Will has been off the grog for 12 months since he had a mild stroke, so we could compare notes as I've been AF for over 11 months now. We parted saying we'd catch up over a cup of tea soon. He and Freda live in Wonthaggi on acres with beef cattle in retirement.

Monday morning now, have rigged up a sunshade over Gord's window as it gets all the morning sun and heats his room alarmingly in hot weather which is forecast.

Off to pick beech now. Digging deep to fire up for a big week, in the build up to...the dreaded Christmas.

A Year of Change

Walking past the chookhouse at the farm the other day the sight of the elderberry tree adjacent blew me away. It was pruned hard a year or so ago and is now lush thick in full flower, masses of heavy white heads promising good harvest. The sad thing is they're all going to waste.

Previously for some years I picked every elderberry flower I could get my hands on for our herb wholesaler who supplied restaurants with herbs and flowers. We only had the one tree at the farm but I'd frequent the creek on the other side of Emerald a couple of times a week mid spring to early autumn. It ran in the gully behind Roger and Meredith's house where elderberry trees grow in abundance wild in the damp. It was a good money spinner although it was quite difficult: the steep walk down to the creek with picking box and pole cutter and honey or wine to give to Meredith's neighbours (who allowed me access), then the slow climb up the steep bank with my booty to where I parked in the shade, often in very hot weather.

Come March and Corona Virus lockdown our customers all shut down. For about a month we had no sales at all. The florists came back and we ended up being busy through winter and spring but our main wholesaler for herbs and flowers for restaurants with whom we have done business for decades ceased and will not be back. So it's strange to see all the elderflowers going to waste. I took cuttings and established new plants in our dam area which are now reaching chest height, this effort futile with no market. Similarly the abutilon shrubs we grew for flowers have flowered profusely with no harvest, and there was no picking of violets, small nasturtium leaves, onion weed flowers, strawberry leaves and other things the restaurants were after on and off for many years. All over red rover.

The florist side of the business came back strongly and demand has been high for foliage, flowers and mixed posies, so much so that we are busy, hardly noticing financially the loss of restaurant trade. The down side of course is that we are less diverse and therefore more vulnerable to future market fluctuations and dramas. But somehow it all seems simpler.

A major change in 2020 is we sold our house. I'm sitting in a rental house in Gembrook's main street, right next to the super market. The motor bikes that screamed their way through the gears up and down Launching Place Rd on weekends and public holidays, and were a factor in us selling, now pull up in the street outside to drink their coffee and buy their cakes and pies at the bakery and coffee shops. Yes the noise is there but as they are taking off or coming to a halt the noise is more restrained, for the most part. So far it's not worrying us much, we came here expecting it, in knowledge that it's temporary till we can find opportunity to look for destination somewhere near a beach and preferably in a quiet location well away from main roads and tourism if possible. We hope this next change will be achieved within twelve months.

The house we are in is owned by Vince Lamendola. When we came to Gembrook Vince and his wife Trudy lived here and ran a pizza shop in the shop part at front. Good pizza they made too. I played a few games of footy for Gembrook in 1982 the year after we came here and Vince, an excellent footballer, played also and for years afterwards in the the veterans comp. A plumber by trade he left Gembrook some 16 years ago to live in Berwick and this house was rented firstly to people who ran a restaurant here for a while, then the Gembrook Vet was here for 10 years. I saw Vince here working renovating after we signed the contract of sale of our home and it just worked out well to be able to move in when we needed with a big shed at the back for all our stuff. It's a nice little 2 bedroom house, all freshly painted and new carpet in the bedrooms and we've enjoyed our two weeks here so far. The shop front is to be tenanted separately.

With the lockdown over I'll soon have to put up with Puffing Billy returning. Again it's only temporary. I'll be pleased to leave Cardinia Shire when we are able. I'm dirty on CSC giving/selling two acres of land to PB for their car park for their new $20 million tourist centre in Emerald Lake Park. In my role on committee for the Nobelius Park and Emerald Museum committee (at the time a couple of years ago or so) I was invited and attended a meeting on a Saturday, for stakeholders to input for a strategic plan for the "precinct". Many people at that meeting expressed concern about the possible loss of parkland to Puffing Billy. Each time this came up we were assured no decision had been made and council had no intention to do so and therefore we were not at this meeting to talk about this. The draft strategy came out some 6 months later with no mention of it. Then, about another twelve months later, the front page of the local paper broke the news the council had "sold" two acres to Puffing Billy for car/bus parking. The whole consultation was a sham. Devious. I have no trust or faith in the Cardinia Shire Council and will be pleased to live elsewhere as soon as I can.

With the preparations and our move I've had a very busy couple of months and am now straight into busy beech picking season. I feel fit and well but am looking forward to scaling down come autumn with hopefully imminent retirement.

Countdown

 This time next week we'll be in the the middle of our move to a rental house in Gembrook's main street. With preparation for the sale of our house and clean up we've been busy and preoccupied mentally so I haven't posted for some weeks. Settlement day is 6 Nov, Friday week, but we'll probably have moved out next weekend. Leaving home of nearly 40 years is a weird feeling I have not quite come to grips with.

I watched some of the Grand Final on TV but as it became obvious Richmond would win I changed channels and watched Endeavour on the ABC. I'll ignore all thoughts football for a while, 3 Richmond premierships in 4 years is hard to take. AFL football has not been kind to me. 3 flags to Richmond, three to Hawthorn in the last 8 years, only interrupted by one to Bulldogs and one to the Eagles to give me some comfort.

Richmond and Geelong previously played in a GF 53 years ago and I was at that game, a 15 yo lad, I went with the Lamb family who lived near us in Mt Waverley. Mrs Lamb was friends with Sth Melbourne members who loaned her their membership tickets so she could get finals tickets. Mrs Lamb, Geoff and I camped overnight in a queue at the Lakeside oval (indoors) to get seats allocated to each club for sale to members. I'm not sure Mr Lamb went to the footy, he didn't see too well, he was a prisoner of the Japanese in WW2 and malnutrition ruined his eyesight. I think he was a Melbourne supporter while Mrs Lamb was strongly St Kilda who had won the flag the previous year. My friend Geoff Lamb who was six months or so older than me and his brother Robert a couple of years younger had leanings I think to both Melbourne and St.Kilda. So we were really impartial on the day but Mrs Lamb was hoping for a Tiger's win as they hadn't won one for 23 years whereas Geelong won in 1963 and also twice '51,'52. I was barracking for Geelong, it was an excellent game with Richmond winning with a small margin I think 10 points. We sat on the wing in the southern stand and a strong recollection for me is that of Geelong's Tony Pollinelee's run and speed.

It was nostalgic thinking back that far of the Lambs. My friend Geoff had mental health issues at that stage not diagnosed so had a turbulent time. That night in the queue at the Lakeside oval I had my work cut out trying to stop him fighting another bloke in the sleepover queue whose pretty girlfriend Geoff was trying to hit on. Brother Robert was a talented sportsman at both football and cricket. Later he and I both attended Camberwell Grammar and played a year together in the football team. He was a star although only 16 then and was later recruited by Richmond where he played some 50 or 60 games, in the early '70's. He kicked 8 goals from a forward flank in one game against Fitzroy. Mr Lamb went for an evening walk one day and had a heart attack and died outside the post office. My family left Mt Waverley in 1971, and the Lambs did also not long after and I lost contact with them. Some years ago, more than 10 I think, I saw a death notice in the paper for Geoff. I went to his funeral, a very small gathering of close family. Robert told me Geoff lived with his mother till she died, then by himself as a bit of a recluse. He was not found till some time after death so cause could not be ascertained, but Robert said it was not likely suicide as he had given no indication and only a short while previous had bought an outboard motor for his tinny, fishing his passion. Rob said Geoff had had a sad life, his illness was misdiagnosed and had wrong medication.

I remember blogging about this at the time but do not have time to research my past writings. This nostalgia is quite painful. My adolescence was also quite turbulent and for a few years there I was a lost soul. Many find a way through, as I did, but it gives me the horrors thinking back to how reckless and stupid I was. So many don't survive, or are deeply scarred for life. Possibly it's worse today. 

Anyway enough of that. Richmond have payed in 10 grand finals 1967-1920, winning 8. Enough of bloody Richmond. My strong dislike for them seeded in 1973 when they bashed their way to to the premiership against Carlton with viscous tactic that saw champion young full back Geoff Southby bashed out of the game with a broken jaw and severe concussion. He was brilliant, and never quite regained his brilliance after that assault, and suffered long lasting repercussions despite still having a good career. There were other incidents in that game, it was a blot on football.

I must focus on the job at hand, moving house and leaving or little peace of mother earth in good nick for the new owners.

I heard a bloke talking on "The Year that Made Me" this morning (RN621 Sunday mornings). He chose a Men at Work song from 1983, Overkill, because he was on a yacht, his passion was sailing and researching blue whales when a yacht went past that had on it two members of Men at Work. I had another blast of nostalgia. I was at school at Camberwell Grammar in the same year with Greg Ham who became a member of Men at Work playing flute and sax. He was quite famous but fell victim to stress alcohol and suicide after that plagiarizing controversy over 'Land from down Under'. He was a quiet, kindly person at school, especially to a new chum like me who came from elsewhere.

I'm not into Rugby but I hope Melbourne Storm brings home the bacon tonight. 

Winter Be Gone

 It's 5 minutes to midnight right now. By the time I finish this post it will be Aug 31, the last day of winter. What a winter it has been, a real wood fires a'blazin' one. Even today I was out scrounging some dry firewood courtesy of a couple of days of warmer temps and wind and no rain. Even some blowies came into the house. Rain came back this evening and cold and showers forecast tomorrow.

I have been picking variegated pittosporum (tenufolium garnetti) every week since starting on it mid April. I have exhausted supply at home, at the farm, and my other Gembrook sources, I have arranged with my last site to do my last pick tomorrow. These people have been ever so kind to let me pick their hedge once a week for about the last two months. I found it by sheer good fortune. I was picking my trees one day a few months ago when a chap walked past and stopped for a yarn. We'd talked before, he walks regularly from where he lives to Gembrook to catch the bus to where he works part time. Explaining to him that demand for this particular pitto is high had him tell me there's a similar type in a hedge between his house and his neighbour and I was welcome to come and get some if it was useful. Was it ever! He gave me his phone number, I followed up when mine at home ran out, he introduced me to his neighbour and it has helped us enormously to survive the winter struggle to make ends meet. The demand has not stopped, nor for the mixed bunches of foliage and flowers we do, we've been busy right through.

I'm glad it's the last tomorrow. I'll tell the wholesaler that's it for now, the pitto has to regrow through spring and summer. Talking of spring, it's well under way. The magpies are warbling strongly at dawn, the kookas are laughing their heads off, and the male blackbirds have been fighting and tumbling in the hellabores, oblivious to me picking flowers. If I was a cat it would be easy catch. There's a lot of new growth on trees, shrubs and field/wild flowers and the glorious aromas have begun with much to come in coming weeks.

Have had some more luck on the footy punt, $121 collect on a $2, 8 game multi today (Would have been $430 on a $5 one if North Melbourne had won). I invested a total of $22 on 4 $5 multis and one $2. Last week I collected $105 for $20 outlay. But the funny story I want to tell, which is probably what prompts me to sit here posting after midnight, is a good win I had on the neds last week. As I have said I'm a small time punter, $1 each way usually, and a few 50 cent trifectas. I put $1 on a horse that was 50/1, with a power boost I got $71. When I checked my balance it had gone down more than I thought so checked my bets and saw that I must have clicked 1 in the value box, gone to check odds on other account sites, gone back and must have clicked 1 again so I had accidentally bet $11 instead of $1. You guessed it, it won and I collected $781 for my $11. You don't reckon I laughed out loud.

My sore feet have settled down, I'm in good health, feeling fit and well. Will need to be with the move from our house to an as yet unknown address in a couple of months. I'm hopeful that now the pitto has finished I can put my mind to finding a place to rent and starting packing and cleaning up. I'm glad that I've been AF since 5 January. I'm enjoying being full time sober and clearheaded, I think it good I was off the grog during this Covid ordeal, I may have taken solace in my sherry, wine, and whatever weekend habit to numb out the media nuttery and cold weather. My target now is 12 months AF. Should not be a problem. It's been great to realize I can enjoy life without the need of the alcohol buzz.  

 

More Police

On Monday night, or I should say Tuesday morning as it was 5am, Pip started barking and woke me up. She sleeps in what I call my office, and she normally wakes me up by coming to our bedroom and making a little squeaky whine about 2am to go outside for a wee. I don't mind this really as I'm ready for a wee myself. She'll often wake me again about 4-5am, this time I feed her breakfast and again go back to bed.

That night she didn't disturb me until the barking, and I got up and went to the front door where she was yapping. I flicked the outside light on as I reached the door and looked through the glass beside it to see two police officers again, about ten feet away from the door. They were peering at me with eyes above their face masks, in flouro vests and uniform and attachments. Instantly I recognized they were police and Pip ran up to them inquisitively to sniff their legs when I opened the door.

"How are you?" was my greeting. 

"Good, sorry to disturb you. We're doing a welfare check on Jean Thompson. Could we talk to her?"

"What time is it?" I said, rubbing my sticky eyes. I had no idea, Pip hadn't woken me before the barking so I had no idea, not checking as I stumbled out to find out what she was barking at. I had thought it was probably a dog or dogs she had heard outside as sometimes she does early morning, but usually after daylight when a couple of mongrels come in and shit on our lawn.

"It's 5 o'clock," they replied. "We had a report that Jean Thompson at this address was suicidal."

"A couple of your blokes were here last Friday night at 11.45 asking the same thing. I told them there was no Jean Thompson here. We're Williams, Carey Libby and Gordon."

The male said, "Yes we saw that," as he pointed to the cars, they must have run the plates on the computer.  

"Who is reporting that Jean Thompson is here and suicidal?"

"Someone from interstate, online." Do you have any weird neighbours?"

"Nothing to be alarmed about, there's quite a variety, I don't know them all in the street."

"Oh well, sorry to disturb you. Maybe you should put a sign up 'Jean Thompson does not live here'." It was the female that said this, she laughed, it was meant in humour, and I took it that way.

"Take it easy," I said as they walked back their car."You must be busy with all that's going on on."

"Thanks we are very busy, you go back and get some sleep."

That I did.

It has been a busy week thus far. I'm still picking lots of variegated pitto but my supply is nearly exhausted. It has kept me going through winter, that and the mixed bunches have been in high demand. Tonight I watched Gold Coast vs Essendon, I had a live $3, 8 game multi on the result, needing a GC win for $100 collect. It was a draw. Luckily the rules say a draw on multis gives a win with reduced payout so I still collected $50. I'm on a roll, $80 last week, $50 this week, and $700 a few weeks ago on Gord's tip 9. And $350 on a 50 cent trifecta the weekend after, and a $70 tattslotto prize last week. 

  

Police Visit

 It was a pleasant Friday night, yesterday. I sat by the fire and watched the GWS/Essendon game in the knowledge that I had a live $3 seven game bet for round ten on both teams. I stood to win $80 for a GWS win or $169 for an Essendon win. Naturally I was barracking for Essendon, a rare thing for me, but the $89 differential had me rooting for the Bombers. I was peed off when GWS snatched victory in the dying moments after trailing all match. But so it goes.

The game finished I went to the computer to check my balance after the bookie settled. As happens I lingered checking Facebook then deviated to google searching for a piece of music I heard a while back but couldn't quite remember the title. This is a bit of a trap, time slips by.

At about 11.30 pm, I heard a bit of a clunk noise outside. I was rugged up, track suit over my pyjamas, woollen jacket over that, scarf and beanie as it has been very cold and we don't have central heating. At night it's sit by the fire, or rug up or go to bed. The noise seemed close to to the room where I was sitting at the computer. It being a windy night there was noise outside. I'm aware that thieves choose windy nights thinking they won't be heard as they would on a still night. The noise was a little metallic and my immediate thought was, that's not right, so within seconds I was walking to the front door to investigate with the thought that a thief/thieves was/were trying to steal my trailer which was on the back lawn just outside my office.

I was almost at the door when there was knocking on it. I thought straight away, well it's not a thief, it must be someone I know to be at the door at that hour. I turned the porch light on and opened the door to see two police officers standing there, a pair of headlights from their car in the drive shining behind them.

"What can I do for you?" was my words as I stepped out.

"We're calling to see if Jean is OK," one of them said. They were strapping young blokes, wearing face masks, and flouro jackets and all the police attachments.

"There's no Jean here. There's me, Carey, wife Lib, and son Gordon. Why Jean?"

"This is 8 Agnes St, isn't it? It's 10 next door so this must be 8."

"This is 4-8, but we call it 8. (We have no number at the top of our drive)

"We received a call that Jean may be in need of assistance, at 8 Agnes St. How long have you lived here? Do you know a Jean close by?"

"Forty years, Can't think of a Jean around here. Is she sick? Or is this a Covid thing?" 

"No. We had information that Jean Thompson was at 8 Agnes St and in need of assistance. What were you doing when we arrived?"

"No, she's not here, never heard of her, I was listening to music on the computer. I heard a noise and thought someone might be knocking off my trailer so I was on my way out to check when you knocked. It must have been your car door I heard."

They seemed unconvinced but were at a dead end. "Well we better check our information. Thank you."

They turned to walk to their car. "Have a good night," I said, "Take care, the weather is foul."

"You too." One then turned back and said, "What was your name?"

"Carey Williams"

It's most unusual to have police knocking on my door near midnight. Thinking about it, I'm a little annoyed. I could have jumped to all sorts of wrong conclusions thinking a loved one had been injured or killed, which I didn't I might add, that didn't enter my head. They didn't identify themselves or tell me which station they were from. Who is Jean Thompson? Young or old? Who gave them the information? Was there a suggestion of violence? Did the informant give them my address by accident or intention? Were they telling me the truth, or making it all up, casing my place, remote as it would be, that they were crooked cops? It has been known.

I give them the benefit of probability and accept they were just doing their job and trying to look after someone who was vulnerable.

 

Joy on a Winter's Day

The other morning I was emptying the ash tray from our fire place in the garden, a daily chore given that we have lit the fire every evening just about, for nearly three months. I'm getting low on firewood, it's still bitingly cold almost every day, with often a good dose of rain, drizzle, fog or wind, even thunder and lightning the other night which made me melancholy wishing it could be a summer thunderstorm. Seems long ago. It's depressing. And this Covid stuff doesn't help. Nor does EOFY year bookwork obligations with the added burden of learning to do things a new way on computer. 

I've been putting the ash in an area where I grew pumpkins last season, or under some molliss azaleas that stand in their winter nakedness against the front of our deck. I heard the flitting of small wings in the azaleas so I stood still and saw a spotted pardalote jumping about in the twigs. Another, presumably it's mate, came out between the barge boards beneath the house and the two danced together in the azaleas briefly before taking off.

At that moment the morning sun came through the foggy cloud and warmed my back and a feeling of great joy came to me, this alleviating the melancholy that had gripped me. We've had these beautiful little creatures nesting under our house before and it seems they're back nesting, or preparing to.They build their nest in a burrow in the ground. I didn't go under the house to investigate for fear of disturbing them but I'll be carefully watching in the coming weeks. 

Nature is wonderful. I have been uplifted also through this dreadful cold and Covid economic gloom by the trunks of trees as I drive the roads or walk. Somehow they seem so beautiful in their sentinel statuesque strength, with such diversity in colour and texture of bark and form. They love the rain, they may be hibernating and dormant, but they are resting, ready to take on what ever comes as they spring into new life and growth any day now.

"Nature never did betray the heart that loved her" (William Wordsworth 1770-1850). Meredith quoted that to me yesterday when I told her about the pardalotes. 

On the Carey and Libby news front I can report that we've sold our house. The first people that came through to inspect, before we had listed on market, made us an offer. We initially declined, thinking we'd advertise and go for more, but when this Covid thing blew up again we came to an agreement with them. We settle on 6 Nov. Where we go I don't know. Near the beach somewhere we thinks eventually when we can find something suitable and organize it. In the meantime maybe rent somewhere around here and keep the farm business going this current financial year. Who knows? At least we know now we are on the move. No going back, contract signed, deposit paid.

 

A View

Yes black lives matter, police lives matter, all lives matter. The solution to the problem, as I see it, is for people to treat each other with decency. All people, everywhere, not just me and my immediate family, friends and neighbours. Is this possible? Historically no. It seems matters of race, religion and inequality somehow derails the locomotive.

The riots and mayhem were occurring on TV news and the vision of the killing of George Floyd, replayed over and over, was sickening.

While this was happening one night I watched the history channel which had a show on the battle of Crete in WW11. This interested me as my friend Doug Twaits, who died in a car accident in 2001, was on Crete as part of the 2/7 infantry battalion in 1940 when Germany attacked Crete, strategic in the Mediterranean. The first assault was by paratroopers dropped from planes and gliders. Many were shot in the air before landing, others caught up in trees, or tangled in their shutes on landing, were shot or bayoneted by British defenders or knifed or pitchforked by Cretan natives. With heavy losses, the Germans managed to get control of one of the airports which enabled them to reinforce, and with support from fighter aircraft operating from this airfield, overcame the British who had no air support and limited equipment. The 2/7th AIF was ordered to surrender after running out of ammunition, and Doug spent the next four years as a POW.

The Germans occupied Crete for four years. Their rule was brutal and murder and atrocity was exacted on the Cretan resistance for assisting or harbouring British soldiers who were roaming the wild mountains and trying to escape the island. The Germans gave control of the eastern quarter or so of Crete to their allies the Italians, who were less invested in savage revenge, and the show intimated the several thousand Italian soldiers on Crete were relieved to be there rather than in some other more dangerous combat area. When Mussolini was deposed in 1943, the Germans lost patience and occupied a large part of Italy and were quite brutal to the Italians. The Italian general in charge of the Crete force escaped with the aid of the British and Cretan resistance, leaving thousands of soldiers stranded. They were interred by the Germans. They were put in two transport ships to take them to Germany as workers for the German war effort. Both ships were torpedoed by British submarines. 2,600 Italian soldiers went down with one, 3,000 in the other. They were locked in the holds of the ship. Most of these were conscripts forced into the army with no say in their fate.

The show on the battle of Crete included interviews with old men who participated, Greeks, Germans British. They asked the question, Why? The whole thing was pointless, achieved nothing. In the time I knew Doug he impressed me with his decency. It was his creed. Be decent to all life, people, animals, and Mother Earth.

Sounds simple in theory. In practice, it seems too hard. A Utopian dream. Is greed the problem? How do we overcome? Revolution?

Buggered if I know.

Honouring Linton Briggs

The VAA Bee Journal arrived today and I managed to copy the article by Max Whitton honouring Linton. Here Tis.

Honouring Linton Briggs

By Dr Max Whitten

 It is with great sadness that I advise of the death of Linton Briggs AM. Linton took ill in late 2019 and passed away peacefully in Wangaratta District Hospital in the presence of his wife, Helen on Tuesday, 28 April 2020. Linton‘s family were able to attend him during his time in hospital despite COVID-19 restrictions; and close colleagues were able to stay in touch with Linton, which was of great consolation to him since his interest in the beekeeping fraternity and the wider community never deserted him till the end. He celebrated his 90th birthday on Wednesday 22nd April, and was chuffed with all the well wishes and expressions of admiration and appreciation that were conveyed to him by Helen and sons, David and Andrew.

 Linton was one of the true greats amongst Australia‘s magnificent beekeepers. As far back as 1964, a young Linton, as Secretary of the NE Branch of the Victorian Apiarists Association, revealed his stripes by organising an international display of the latest in beekeeping technology. Indeed, he was ahead of his times in recognising the importance of stock improvement for Australian honeybees. A highlight of this 1964 Glenrowan gala, was the introduction of quality Caucasian genetic stock, along with demonstrations on queen raising by one of the world‘s leading bee breeders, Everett Hastings from Canada. A theme running through Linton‘s long and illustrious career was the importance of stock improvement, a belief he shared intimately with his friend and colleague, Gretchen Wheen. Other important contributions by Linton included: national quarantine facilities at Eastern Creek, formulation of public policies for protecting the nectar and pollen resource base for productive beekeeping, the Patterson‘s Curse saga, pollination services and food security. Linton was a founding director of the Wheen Bee Foundation, which helped ensure a lasting legacy of Gretchen Wheen‘s generous gift of her estate to help our beekeeping industry.

Perhaps, Linton stands unchallenged in the depth of his contribution to industry politics and governance, leading the Federal Council of Australian Apiarists Associations for many years, and shaping its successor, the Australian Honeybee Industry Council. Linton also found time to understand more about eucalypt biodiversity than many professional botanists. What Linton didn‘t know about the life and times of Ned Kelly, and his final demise, was precious little. A more detailed account of Linton‘s accomplishments in beekeeping, primary industry and community affairs will come at a later date. At this stage, we ‘dips our lid‘ to a great Australian, a born naturalist, an incredible mentor and example to many, and a caring family man. Linton devoted his considerable intellect, his self-taught capacity for oral and written communication, and his indefatigable energies selflessly for the benefit of mankind. His loss, both personally and professionally, is simply immense; but his legacy will surely live on. Our thoughts go out to Helen and family in this time of deep loss.

Vale Linton Briggs

I noticed in the obituaries in the Herald Sun a few weeks ago that Linton Briggs died on the 28th of April. I was not overly surprised given that Linton was of old age.

I remember meeting Linton in May 1976 when I started my job as Apiary Inspector with the Dep't of Agriculture. In my second week, (the first week was spent at the Apicultural Research Unit in Scoresby where head of the Apiary Branch Don Langridge and his assistant Russell Goodman showed me how things worked and gave me some menial clerical chores) I went on the road with Senior Apiary Inspector Laurie Braybrook to Wangaratta which was to be my base for my district, the North-east third of Victoria.

On our way to Wangaratta, where a function had been organized that evening by the NE Apiarists Ass for beekeepers to meet their new Department man, Laurie thought it would be polite to call on Linton Briggs at Glenrowan on our way through. Linton was a past president of the NEAA and current president of the Victorian Apiarists Ass. It was late in the afternoon, Linton and his father Jack were finishing cutting up a tree limb that had fallen and damaged a fence on Linton's farm which was a base for his queen bee breeding operation and some cattle grazing. That was my first contact with Linton who was to become a great support to me over the next five years.

Laurie explained that Linton was "a rock". Someone who could be relied on for advice or assistance whatever problem I may have, and if necessary he could be trusted that the conversation if delicate would go no further. This was important for a young man going to a new job with regulatory responsibilities, working with men many far more senior in years. My predecessor had died a couple of years prior and the position was vacant in the interim. The warning was clear, there was a beekeeper or two in the district with a history of disputation with the Department.

That night at the function Linton gave a talk updating the gathering on VAA business and it was apparent he was an eloquent speaker, an intelligent man with a passion for the beekeeping industry and conservation of native flora. Over the next five years Laurie's assessment of Linton as "a rock" proved correct. I was on the phone to him many evenings. It must have driven his wife Helen crazy but she or Linton never showed any sign of exasperation, they were always welcoming and helpful. I wince a little thinking back at how I must have tested their patience during several periods of crisis in the industry such as plague locust spraying, European Foulbrood outbreak and border restrictions, threats to floral resources and conservation and pollination issues. I was a link man and Linton assisted and guided me, and taught me much. I was extremely fortunate.

I remember a month or so after starting the job attending the VAA conference in Bendigo. It ran for most of the week and at lunch one day at a pub I was with Don Langridge and a few NSW apiary officers who had come down, one of whom was the head of the NSW Apiary branch, Alan Clemson. Alan was extolling the virtues of Linton as a competent president and excellent speaker and asked "How old is Linton? I'd say about 45." I learned from a 'Notification - Linton Briggs AM' email from the VAA a few days after I noticed the death notice, that Linton would have been 46 at that conference as it said he was born on 22/April/1930, so he'd just turned 90 by six days when he succumbed to cancer. The notification was signed Helen and family.

Helen seemed a good bit younger than Linton and they had young kids. I think she was a school teacher who moved to the district for her work and they met to the good fortune of both. I wasn't the only industry person ringing Linton in the evenings, there were many, and I think he spent most evenings of his life on the phone.

Linton was a non drinker. His father Jack was the policeman at Glenrowan for many years. I think they lived in the police house with the lock up in the back yard. Linton saw a lot of violence and misery caused by alcohol as a kid so he never participated. Old Jack liked a drink. I can recall on a hot day being out with Linton and Jack checking nucs around the area. We pulled up outside a pub on the way home for some reason and Jack looked in at the blokes at the bar saying "Look at the lucky buggers" but Linton wouldn't stay for Jack to go in and have a beer.

I have been waiting patiently for the next issue of the monthly VAA Journal which will no doubt have a tribute to Linton. I received an email saying it would be sent electronically while this Covid thing was making life difficult. If it does I'll try to copy and paste the tribute into this post.

I have met few people in my time that have left such a strong imprint on me as Linton Briggs did. You could say I had huge respect and admiration for his dedication and integrity, and for his talents. This remains after he has passed, and in the short time since, my memory of him has aided me when things get a bit difficult. This is what good people do for us. They inspire us to be be better and stronger ourselves.

A Weird Month

It's a month since I posted. You'd think with this virus lockdown bizzo I'd have had plenty of time to write in this blog. Somehow not so, it seems there are always more chores and problems than there's time to do or attend to them.

Nearly a month ago I stubbed the fourth and fifth toes on my right foot badly. Rammed it into the steel rod leg of a kitchen stool. We all know the excruciating pain that comes with that. It passes after a short time, but I was left with sore toes when walking for some days. You pretend it's not there and move on. A week to ten days later it became quite painful and swollen, making working difficult. I didn't think the toe had been broken so I was alarmed thinking my Rheumatoid arthritis had flared up, either as a result of the stubbing incident or by itself in some cruel sort of vendetta to destroy me. Bearing in mind I had dropped all my medication  nearly a year ago, and been so happy that I was either cured or in remission. If it came back I'd be shattered.

It became so painful to put boots on or to walk that I went to the doctor a couple of weeks ago. Infection was the verdict. The skin between the toes must have split when I stubbed them, unknown to me, so I didn't put Betadine or Dettol on it. Bacteria must have got in. I've been on antibiotics for nearly twelve days now and all seems well. I saw the doctor last Friday, she cut away a lot of dead skin and gunky stuff, she cut me doing it causing bleeding, and I go see her again next Tuesday. I'm cleaning it each day and putting Betadine on it. I pulled some more dead stuff out from between the toes tonight. It's amazing the stuff that sort of grew in the wound, thick white skin, as I guess the body was trying to repair itself. It seems fine now, no pain, but the skin peeled off the foot where the swelling went down, and the new skin is soft and sensitive, especially as it got unbelievably itchy and I scratched too much. There had been an abscess in there.

While all this was going on I had some interesting times seeking some government assistance due to the collapse of the business resulting from the lockdown. When we came back from SA I looked into it and after much frustration trying to suss out what to do I managed get a Mygov account and link it to the ATO, and register an intention to claim with Centrelink and link it to the Tax office. An SMS from Centrelink on April 2 said "You have registered your intention to claim. You don't need to do anything more now, we will phone you."

That gave me some comfort that I may get some assistance in the form of helping me pay my casual staff ongoing, as I was intending anyway till I ran out of money. I did fear there'd be some obstacle and I wouldn't qualify but I had no option other than to continue and hope they would in fact contact me. On April 28 I got an SMS saying, "Your ability to claim expires 8 May, so you need to claim before this time." This spurred me to action rather than wait to be phoned. I first had to find out how to make a claim. This involved going through a maze on line, (trying to contact by phone the tax office, Centrelink, my accountant all unsuccessful, after many hours and a couple of days frustration).

Eventually I cracked it. I enrolled for Jobkeeper, for one staff only, sister Meredith, as she works far more hours than the other two. I saw that to get any help I had to to have paid her $750 per week through April, and my turnover must have dropped by 30% (it had dropped much more). I had paid her a little less than that so I went to the bank to get more money to give to her before the end of April. When I got the money out the teller gives a little slip of paper with the transaction and a balance. When I looked at the balance there was more there than I thought given that for weeks I had  payed all normal outgoings and wages but money in had dropped right off.

Baffled by this I couldn't wait for my end of April bank statement to be available so I went on online banking that night and checked transactions and blow me down there was an inter bank credit on the 23 April, $10,000, ATO. So I'd been given $10,000 without my knowledge with no notification or advice. I presume it is to enable me to keep paying people which is what I'll do. I don't know if I should have enrolled for Jobkeeper, given I had been given this money. No doubt it'll all come out in the wash.

Besides all that it has been unbelievably wet, and cold. My main wholesale customer, the only buyer we have now really, besides one other florist who has come back, has suddenly started giving big orders for mixed posies and variegated pittosporum (he won't take anything else yet) so we've been working in the rain doing our best to give him what he wants. A pain in the arse, all of it. Don't know where it will end up. It's all new territory, yes, the world has changed.

Happily, tomorrow I'll be 4 calender months AF. I had cherry juice to accompany my roast beef tonight. Lib had red wine. She must have not wanted to finish her glass after dinner and tipped the empty dregs into my empty glass. I didn't know she had done this, and thinking I hadn't finished the cherry juice, I drank it down. Strewth! What a shock! It tasted vile. Seems my taste buds have altered in these four months. Next target 6 months.

Owning a Dog

It's 4am. Pip woke me an hour or so ago crying at the bedroom door. It is not unusual, her waking me, she/we go out for wee. But this time the hall door was pushed closed and she couldn't nose it open (back towards her) because she has one of those buckets on her head, to stop her licking her stitches in her wound from her toe amputation last Monday.

Just as I woke to the sounds of her crying and the bucket hitting the door an almighty clap of thunder shook the house. "Oh shit," I said as I got up. I'd let her out at 2am for a pee, in the carport as it was raining heavily, and I realized this was going to be a thunder episode, something I had dreaded happening while we were doing the bucket thing until the stitches come out a week from now and the threat of infection is over. Normally she hides in the toilet when there's thunder around in the gap between the toilet bowl and the wall, but she couldn't get in there with the bucket so I took it off.

Lib starts back at work today, she'll wake at 6, after 3 weeks leave. I didn't want to go back to bed and leave Pip in the toilet in case I fell asleep and then she may attack her stitches when her shivering fear subsided. She goes quite manic in thunderstorms as many dogs do. So I sat on the toilet and patted her now and again hoping the storm would pass quickly. I had the exhaust fan on, the noise seems to comfort her, overriding the thunder a little. After a quarter hour or so I thought the noise of the fan may be keeping Lib awake so I turned it off and left the toilet, shut the hall door, and walked Pip up and down the house carrying her like a parent does a colicky baby. She weighs 8kg so my arm soon tired so I'd stop and sit still holding her on my lap. She struggled and shivered, so back to walking, then sitting, walking till the thunder had gone.

I put the bucket back on her head and came here to the computer after making some toast and coffee. Pip lay on the floor near the hall door, quietly.

I did the Facebook thing, not wanting to go back to bed and disturb Lib again. If I did creep back quietly Pip may disturb us again anyway. In the quiet solitude listening to the steady rain on the roof, I came across a post by a psychologist talking about consciousness. He was referring to the current situation where many people are isolated and worried and literally thinking and talking themselves into unhappiness and depression. His message; drop the thoughts of what might be in the future, all the scary scenarios our brains conjure up, and be in the present, wherever you are, and look around at all that is there, be aware of your breathing, absorb every sight and sound. In other words, focus on what is, in the now, not on thoughts of bad things are or what might be. Focusing on the present, is where happiness is; playing with the dog, watching a movie, playing a game, having sex, gardening, you name it. Thoughts can bring us unhappiness. There's a difference between the situation as it IS, in our NOW, to what the mind says may be.

He concluded saying to realize this empowers us. Once we are aware we know what Shakespeare meant when he wrote, "Nothing is either good or bad, but thinking makes it so".

As I listened to this guy, the penny dropped for me. It's the same message, presented differently,as that in a book I'm reading but was struggling with - "Loving What Is" by Byron Katie. She uses four questions in what she calls 'The Work' applied to a problem or thought that causes stress. It's not the problem that causes suffering; it's our thinking about the problem. 'The Work' is a way of losing painful thoughts, allows you to let go. If you stress over what your mind says shouldn't be, be it politics, relationships whatever, you punishing yourself unnecessarily. Accept what is, and you free yourself to be happy. I think I've got it.

"It is what it is". That annoying often used phrase of recent times will now no longer annoy me.

Holiday...Sort of

We left last Thursday. Got away about 10.30am for our holiday to Adelaide. First night we'd booked a dog friendly motel at Bordertown, where we'd stayed last year on our trip over and back. We enjoyed dinner at the pub and settled back in our motel room about 8pm and watched the first game of round 1 of the AFL season. Richmond jumped Carlton early by the time we switched on and were four goals up and maintained that margin at the end of what was lack lustre viewing of a game of televised footy with no crowd due to Corona Virus restrictions.
We'd booked an Air B+B house at Henley Beach for 8 nights and took our time getting there as check in time was 3pm. It's a nice house, a solid old place renovated with high ceilings, large rooms, and a bit of a back yard for Pip. Comfortable, unpretentious, carport with electronic roller door, TV's in all 3 bedrooms and a very large one in the loungeroom which we've given a good work out.
The draw back is the traffic noise. The house is on a main road with hardly a front garden so the vehicle noise from cars buses and trucks reverberates through the house. There's another main road at the back with only one row of houses between it and us so you get noise from it too. Not ideal for one sensitive to noise as I am.
The plus side is the beach is very close, we go out the front door and across the road and down a side road through the row of houses that stretch along the foreshore and you are on the beach. We've walked Pip a couple of times a day on the beach which she loves, and so does Lib, although it isn't the type of beach we are used to. The houses (and apartments) all along the foreshore are multi million dollar jobs with that very square solid modern architecture with lots of glass and balconies. It amazes at how many wealthy people there are in Adelaide. Henley Beach is quite upmarket, not our style at all really, but we try to pretend we are having a good time, given the hefty expense of the accommodation.
It has been a testing four days here. This Corona dominates the news and each day there's more and more hype and restriction. We can't help but worry about getting home and the possibility of imposed self isolation when we do. Victoria has not yet closed it's border so we haven't packed up and left to beat enforced self isolation on returning if they do. Hopefully if they do we'll have 12 hours notice to get over the border.
Not that 14 days isolation would worry me greatly, all my customers at the farm cancelled their pick ups so my business is effectively closed down anyway, but Lib will need to start back at work and isolation would prevent that.
So it really has not been the ideal time to take an interstate holiday. The mood is missing. To be frank I'm keen to get home. We may leave as early as tomorrow and drive back in one hit. We are listening to the news and weighing options. Fortunately there has been no talk of petrol shortage, we can jump in the car at short notice.
I'm conscious that so many people have had their lives turned upside down by this health crisis and my problems shrink to near nought by comparison. I'm nearing retirement so it doesn't really matter if my business does not revive and I have no rent or mortgage payments. I feel very sorry for people who lose their jobs and have commitments they can't meet. I had a massage this morning (for stiff neck and upper back) and the masseur said the chiropractor business he works with is closing and he'll be this day joining the Centrelink queue to look for work in a different field. He has three young children.

  

All's Well, But Cold

I looked out out into the garden from our deck this afternoon. The foliage was almost glistening in the autumn sun. The grass is lush green, growing at a fast rate. It's hard to believe that this is so in early March, after summer, a time when usually the landscape is dry and parched.

We had 140ml of rain in February, and I think another 40 or so in the first days of March. It rained again on Friday, not heavy but enough to water the plants in pots. Watering has been no problem this last couple of months.

The honey season has been the best for years. Before the big deluge in February a honey flow was in progress. It seemed to return as the weather cleared, slower, but still happy bees. I managed to get some off for my friend Leanne to extract, and also help Denny, who has health issues and needs a bit of a hand with his bees. I would expect by the end of March there'll be more to take and still be plenty to leave for the bees for the winter. Nothing is certain but that is the indication.

My only complaint is that I'm sitting here with a jumper on and still I'm cold. And last night in bed I was cold for ages before falling asleep. Then Pip woke me twice during the night. Lib and Gord are at Lakes for a few days, home tomorrow. I guess the house feeling empty doesn't help although I've thoroughly enjoyed my evening solitude. I've always found my own company pleasant.

I'm still on my alcohol free experiment. Tomorrow I'll be 70 days AF. It would be so good to have a bottle of red with our roast lamb tomorrow night when Lib and Gord have returned, but I've set my new target at 100 days. I have found life still to be enjoyable without wine, something I doubted prior to me embarking on the experiment. I wondered if being home alone might trigger me relax my resolve but It hasn't been too bad. I think I've established a "new normal", and have a routine of non alcoholic beverage to fill the psychological void and a bit of chocolate and a cup of tea after dinner, followed by a creamy coffee later and maybe a vanilla slice or an icecream.

We go on holiday soon, to Adelaide for a week, that will be another test, a holiday without a rewarding relaxing wine. Then there's a footy club reunion in April, 40 years since Greta premiership 1980, another test. But there were non drinkers in that team, several if I recall, and many moderates. If it was split into thirds, I would have been in the drinker third. I don't feel threatened by attending and not drinking.

I'm off for a hot bath, another cold night ahead. I don't feel justified to turn on a heater just for me. Who knows what the weather will do from here. I have plenty of firewood cut but would hope not to be lighting the fire till May. Who would have thought with the dry weather over much of south eastern Australia and all the bushfires, that we here in the Dandenongs would have had such a mild lush summer with continued green and growth, and now such cold in what is traditionally heatwave time.

 

Dry Spell

Well the Black Cockies were right again, we had 25ml or so of rain yesterday, first day of February. So timely it was after Thursday and Friday's temps of 39 and 42C. And although many places had strong winds with storm rain, we missed that here. The rain was pretty gentle mostly, just cranked up and got heavy for half an hour or so. Whether the little honey flow that was on before the change restarts we'll have to wait and see.

The 'dry spell' I have titled this post does not refer to rain. It means I'm having an extended alcohol free period. The last alcohol beverage I had was on 5 January, which means today I have been alcohol free for four full weeks. Until now I have told few people of this experiment besides Lib, Gord and a handful of others.

Why am I doing this? It started because a friend more or less challenged me to go a weekend without drinking. I have taken credit for some years that I don't drink alcohol after Sunday night till Friday night, therefore believing and maintaining that I don't have an alcohol problem. I did so much look forward to Friday night's wine, and of course Saturday and Sunday nights as well.

I bit the bullet and went AF for the weekend of 11/12 Jan and on the Sunday came across a website called The Naked Mind, an organization in the US that promotes both abstinence and moderation. They have this thing called the 30 day AF Experiment where you can sign up and join a private facebook group (if you wish) of people doing the experiment and many who continue after the 30 days. The Naked Mind person (Annie) sends a bit of a peptalk email each day talking of the psychology of drinking alcohol and the cultural acceptance of it in society while also pointing out the effects of alcohol on the brain and our physiology. It is ingrained deeply into our subconscious that we need a drink to relax, relieve stress, socialize, and reward ourselves with the huge buzz and pleasure of drinking. In fact, the lectures say, we don't need it at all for those reasons, and our minds need retraining to bust the myth. Alcohol makes you think you need it because it causes reaction in the brain that creates imbalance, then as the kick wanes you want another. It is in fact a poison and depressant your body has to work hard to remove. The more you drink the more the toll on the body and mind. Different people develop different tolerance to it but in the end it's a dangerous addictive substance that causes huge amount of illness and death in society.

I committed to the 30 day experiment on 12 Jan so I'm remaining AF till Feb 11, and will decide whether or not to continue at that time, or maybe just be more moderate and try to be an occasional glass or two drinker. The email peptalk yesterday suggested that to keep a journal or write down your thoughts is a great way of reducing stress, focusing on the present and ridding yourself of negative thoughts. So here I am going public. The idea of writing stuff down resonated strongly with me, in that I have been writing this blog for many years and probably this self expression has a releasing effect on me and helps me leave things behind and move on. Rarely do I go back and read stuff  and when I do I'm looking for for something specific for a particular reason of memory or record.

I'm enjoying being alcohol free. I don't think I would have gone 28 days without a drink for 50 years. Yes I'm feeling well with better focus and clarity. I'll be 36 days AF on 11 Feb.

Bees, Greenies, Black Cockatoos

Well it's been a full month since my last post on 28 Dec 19. I didn't have to to wait long to get some more tooth for my copper beech tree. A few days later a good size bit of tooth broke off a lower molar on the other side, leaving me with two broken teeth and picking food out with a toothpick every time I ate something. I went to the dentist Monday week ago and he filled one and said best to leave the other as it is, if I could tolerate it, as to fill it would not be lasting. He said he could do a crown if I wanted but I had decided some time ago not to take that track and just live with some jagged teeth, they'll probably see me out without all the expense of crowns which are no guarantee to be trouble free anyway.

I had a good break this season over the festive season with nearly all our customers taking a couple of weeks off. The three weeks since we resumed picking have been busy with beech the main attraction. Most of it is picked now and I'll be lucky to keep it up for a couple of weeks more till Valentine's day. Then a couple of weeks catching up on grass cutting and picking some rosehips and hawthorn berries before Lib, Gord and me take a couple of weeks holiday. Lib's talking Lake Taupo, NZ north Island and/or Adelaide again. We'll see.

I've had a look into the bees a few times. They started picking up in late November with the blackberries flowering after a bad spring (for bees), cold weather and wind and drizzly rain. Over the past year or so I had requeened with good quiet stock from a Qld breeder but the bees hadn't really responded after the bad weather and lingering chalkrood, sacbrood and small hive beetles. "Who would be a beekeeper?" old Jack Tonkin used to say when things weren't going well.

Such was the malaise of a small hive I requeened in the autumn that I blamed the new queen as being crook and bought another and replaced her in early November. The hive still struggled for a month and I was about to give up on that queen too when things started to improve with more settled warm to hot weather and incoming nectar. Probably with hindsight I was too quick to write off the autumn queen as the hive may have come good just the same.

A few weeks ago I was hanging out the washing and I heard the unmistakable chatter of a flock of green lorrikeets. These birds are not usually around Gembrook but are nomadic eucy nectar/flower bud eaters. It was a good sign to beekeepers in Qld when I was there if the greenies were about, meaning flowering nectar producing eucalypts are close. I hadn't noticed more than the odd messmate tree lightly flowering but I thought the greenies are not here for nothing.When I looked at the bees shortly after, yes, they'd improved out of site and were gathering honey, enough for me to put some frames of foundation into them at last. I had asked my friend Leanne to make these frames up, she's my apprentice, the bees are now hers, I'm just helping her till she's confident to do it herself. That's another reason I wanted to requeen with good quiet stock.

I looked into them again this morning. The hive at my house is a three deck almost full of honey. I took out two full combs and replaced them with foundation and took the honey in another box with empty combs to the small hive at Leanne's. It was doing really well, come from a small struggling nucleus in November to a filling double so with hot weather coming this week I put the third box on. There will be some honey to extract this year, the first after two very bad years, no surplus. As I walked back to my van I saw my loose veil on the ground, it had pulled off my hat on a twig as I walked to the hive. I had worked through the hive without a veil without even knowing I hadn't pulled the veil down - it wasn't there anyway, just shows what good quiet bees they are, and nectar coming in makes working them easy. Some beekeepers I recall, Linton Briggs at Glenrowan one, had such good quiet stock they usually worked without a veil.

Amazingly we've had rain through January also. Three times I've heard the squawking black cockies and three times these harbingers have preceded rain. Three of them flew across the road in front of my car today, so I'm hopeful that after this predicted heatwave of 40C plus Thursday and Friday there'll be more rain, but not too heavy to cease the honey flow that is current.

I killed my first European wasp nest for the season on the weekend, I suspect there'll be many over the next few months. Killed multiple jumping jack ants nests lately, at home. Can't leave them, dangerous for dog. Gotta watch out for snakes now after Pip being bitten last year. We had Rob's little dog Eddy as a house guest for three weeks till last Sunday, a real monkey if ever there was one, but fun. Rob and his mate were in Chile, Argentina and Paraguay. They were invited to a friend's wedding in Chile and made a bit of a holiday of it.

Nothing much else to report. The fires have been devastating over such a big area of Australia but somehow with the good rain we've had here there's been no worry for us here. Feb/March could be a worry though if, as is probable, the rain does not continue and the heat cranks up to blistering as it has in recent years.