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.

Let's Have a Good One

Young Scott came two days before Xmas and took out the Cedar Wattle. He and his mate were superb. When I left for the second time at 2.30pm, they were still at it, after arriving at 7.15am. Not a shrub underneath was damaged, which showed the care they'd taken. I have no hesitation in recommending them. (Scott Purton, Green Care Tree Service, 0407 099 249)

We left for Wangaratta about noon on Christmas Day. I was so looking forward to driving over the Bonnie Doon bridge and seeing water below in Eildon Weir which had filled to 75% capacity. Alas we were detoured at Yarck because of a fatal accident in the morning, going via Euroa instead.

I had some consolation on Boxing Day. I met my old mate Dave Suters at the Hume Weir which is 100% full. I hadn't seen Dave for 15 years or thereabouts. We met at the appointed place, and each thought the other was late when in fact we'd walked past and looked at each other a couple of times without realizing we were us. Such is the cruelty of aging. We both were looking for a younger man. It wasn't until Dave's wife Pam arrived and looked at me that the penny dropped for us at the same time. It was great to see them.We had lunch at an Albury club. I met Dave at the Qld Ag College in 1974. We became close friends, our contact dropping off only in recent years. It's satisfying this has been corrected.

I was on my own having left Lib and the boys with Molly and Lib's sister's family as I was absorbed by nostalgia on the drive south back to Wang. I visited the Wang cemetery to give my respects to Kel, who died late in 2008. Two other team mates from the Greta Football team of 1980 are also there. 'Brains' was killed in a car accident in 1983 and ditto 'Swampy' in 1988. It took me a long time to find their graves and also Fred Sargent's and Lib's dad Bill's plaque.

I came across someone I can't recall thinking of for over 30 years. When I first moved to Wang in 1976, I rented a flat in Oven's St. It was a house divided into two flats, the other flat occupied by an attractive young girl by the name of Karen. We shared a clothesline in the back yard but I rarely saw her to talk to. She had a tumultuous relationship with a boyfriend who called regularly. Between the flats at one point there was a non opening door separating the two, I could hear their noisy lovemaking, arguments, and often yell and scream, bang and crash fighting. It was a bit of a worry but I must admit it was entertaining. I can't remember the details but I did have a minor altercation one time with the boyfriend which was verbal involving no fisticuffs, but violence was threatened which I took pains to avoid while at the same time not backing down.

I had to leave that flat. The motel that owned the building changed hands and the new owners wanted it for their relatives. A couple of years later after a couple moves I was in a flat in Green St. near the hospital, in a block of about a dozen flats, mine being one from the rear end on the second floor. One night I was comfortably minding my business when there was a frantic banging on my door, accompanied by a woman's voice yelling for help. She was almost hysterical when I opened the door, gibbering that a man was threatening to kill her girlfriend and was cutting up all her clothing.

I think I told her to use my phone to ring the police and went to the flat full of nervous apprehension but acting on adrenalin. I barged in and was in his face in the bedroom in a flash with as much authority and bluster that I could manage. It was the girl Karen's flat and the enraged bloke ransacking it was the same boyfriend of two years previous. He looked at me with surprise he was being confronted, briefly arguing absurdly, but thankfully ceased his activity and went to the door with me right on his hammer telling him the police would be arriving shortly. Once outside on his way down the stairs he turned and abused me saying he'd get me.

I moved to a farmhouse at Moyhu shortly after. Over the next couple of years when playing football for Greta he was in the opposition Nth Wangaratta team when we played them. He showed me no recognition let alone aggression or attempt to 'get me'. There I was on Boxing Day paying a visit to my old footy mates and there he was, right in front of me, on a headstone. It bore his name of course and had a photo of him. Born 1956, died 2007, husband of Karen and father to four daughters. Who knows what happened between 1978 and 2007, besides the bald facts on the headstone. I don't like to jump to conclusions but age 51 is an early death and leaves me wondering.  I suppose his and Karen's life together had its share of joy and pain, as does everyone's. I'm tempted to find Karen who is probably still in Wang and easily findable, but no I'll let it rest.

Best wishes to my friends for 2011. After a few days at Lakes Entrance I'm back well rested and ready for a year of challenge and achievement. There's much to do.

The Cedar Wattle

There's a cedar wattle tree behind a shed on the east side of our house. It has been there longer than the almost 30 years Lib and I have lived here, as has the old shed. It was a spindly tree, growing tall and lean under Peppermint Eucalyptus and with a distinct lean over the shed, which worried me given the rapid growth of it. Many years ago I climbed up a ladder and cut it about half way up, pulling the top half down with a rope so it didn't land on the shed. The danger to the shed was temporarily gone and I planned to get up each year and prune it to stop it becoming a worry to me again.

I forgot all about it for some years, and, as is the way of it when a tree is cut and regrows, it shot out numerous branches in all direction upwards, with vengeance. When arborist Steve Major was here getting a dead tree down a few years ago, I asked his advice and he said it was OK for now but later on it'd be better to remove the whole tree as the multiple branches will one day start dropping. He added that Cedar Wattle was a weed in this district which I knew having seen it on the shire's list of environmentally threatening vegetation.

About a year ago, after regularly looking at the 3 branches now hanging over the shed and realizing they were too difficult for me to get down without damaging the shed or myself, I rang Steve and told him to pop in when he was quoting in Gembrook, have a look at it and book it in for removal. A month or so later in a windstorm a branch broke off and came down resting on a rhododendron but with the break not clean and the branch still connected at the break. I rang Steve about some work in Nobelius Park, adding that a branch had come down from the Cedar Wattle at home, and saying I could attend to it myself but he might as well do it, thinking of when he came to remove the whole tree. He must have thought I said I could do it myself, or forgotten about it, because a month or two went by and he still didn't turn up.

During the footy finals, Cheryl up the road, a Collingwood supporter, sent an footy related email which also told me about a young bloke, Scott, who'd got down a dead tree for her at a reasonable price and gave me his phone number. Now with no ill to Steve who has done all my tree work for many years but who I know is very busy with a waiting list of many weeks, I rang Scott. It took a while for us to meet as he rang a few times to arrange an inspection and quote for me but I couldn't be there, eventually we keyed in and I'm expecting him any day to attend to the tree having agreed on a price.

The tree is close to our clothesline. Lately while I've been hanging out washing I've been hearing the 'creaky door' voices of Gang Gang Cockatoos as they happily feed on the seed pods. At close range I watch them holding the pod in the claw of the left leg up to their beak while they munch away.The ground is littered with dropped empty pods which shows what a feast they're having. They are a lovely quiet bird in contrast to their screeching cousins. They are nomadic and not commonly seen in Gembrook. I'm sorry I've organized the destruction of a food source.

I found Cedar Wattle in a tree book. It's a NSW tree, Acacia elata, which has become naturalized in parts of Victoria, and will grow to 20 metres. The seeds need to be boiled to help germination. I'll collect some and hopefully get them growing, weed or no, so I can plant them in other places to feed Gang Gangs down the track.

Either Way I Lose, I Win

I'm about to take Lib's car up the street to the garage and fill it with fuel and check the oil and tyres as I do most Saturday mornings. On the way back I'll stop off and cast my vote at the booth at the primary school for the state election.

As a 'Green' voter, I can't win outright, I know that. If the Labour Gov't is thrown out, which I expect to happen, the Libs will govern. That's bad. The Wilderness Society in a survey of environmental groups came up with the following ratings for the respective policies of the major parties-

Labour 50%
Libs   15%
Greens 93%

On the other hand, if the Lib's win, the $10.3 million that Labour promised Puffing Billy probably won't happen. I'm not a PB fan; it's a noisy, polluting, self serving drain on the state's finances. I don't know why it is such a sacred cow. I don't mind it being preserved in the museum at Belgrave. Even run it up and down a few hundred metres now and again if you must.  The prime land the railway takes up could be put to a better use. How about a Flora and Fauna Corridor? A Nature Trail? A Heritage Trail? All with educational and tourism potential greater than PB's spouted tourism return, which I believe is grossly overstated. The $10.3 mill offer has got me seriously considering where to put my second preference.

It's a dilemna. Our sitting Labour member Tammy Lobato has been terrific. I'd hate see her go. She's a wonderful lady. It's a hard business. It won't be her fault if Labour loses.

Brumby is on the nose.

War and Peace

Lib and I went to the Leonard Cohen concert in Melbourne on the 13th November.

My friend Maria requested a report so I replied as follows-

'It was sensationally good. He's a master with words and timing, and he has a winning formula I've seen before in performance DVD's. As it obviously works he sticks to it, so it is now relaxed and well oiled. It took me a few songs to slip into the slow mesmerising rhythm, then I almost drifted asleep, but slowly my senses came sharper and sharper and the show kept getting better and better. Not only do I love the songs but he's a consumate performer. The musicians and girl singers were also wonderful and the chemistry within the group was magic. There were three standing ovations to end what was a memorable concert, surpassing my wildest expectations.

It may sound a little mushy but there was stage rapport that extended to the audience and enveloped it. I found it inspiring that so many people can feel the same thing at once. It seemed to convey a message of hope and togetherness and human goodness, as in one of his songs, 'There's a crack, where the light comes in.'"

I finished a book last week, 'Centennial' by James Michener, an epic historical novel in the Michener's style, of 1100 pages. I took three months to finish it, enjoying it thoroughly, and I'm in the mood. My new book is one I have been eying off on the shelf for some time.

'War and Peace' by Count Leo Nickelayevich Toltoy, is, I notice, 1400 pages, so it'll carry me well into the new year. So far I've only read the introduction by the translator. Two quotes immediately struck me in light of my comments to Maria regarding Leonard Cohen.

The Introduction starts with the quote, "There is no greatness where simplicity, goodness and truth are absent."

Towards the end, "In 1812 simplicity, goodness and truth overcame power, which ignored simplicity and was rooted in evil and falsity."

I think I'm going to enjoy Tolstoy's 'War and Peace'.

Mental Arithmetic

On the subject of Afghanistan, where my last two posts have focused, I've had a few figures going through the head. I understand we have 1500 soldiers currently there. I gather from my perusal of the ADF website the other day that our soldiers are each payed a tax free deployment bonus of $200 per day.

1500 X $200 = $300,000

That's $300,000, PER DAY, in bonus alone. That gives you some idea what this is costing the Australian taxpayer. I also discovered that while serving overseas a soldier's salary is tax free. Add to that transport and munitions, logistics and administration, and the mind starts to boggle. How many years have we been there now? I think it might be six. How many more years are we to be there? 5 to 10 I think, it was suggested in the 'debate'.

$300,000 X 365(days) X 10(years) = $1,095,000,000

That's nearly 1.1 billion dollars, in tax free bonuses alone, over a decade. I was always quite good at mental arithmetic, but if my calculations are flawed or facts incorrect I'd appreciate if someone would correct me.

It's almost unbelievable to this Aussie battler who hesitates before incurring the cost of a new pair of work boots.

Rain, Crap, and More Crap

It's raining steadily but gently, as it did most of last night. I had a burn off yesterday afternoon. I'd accumulated a mountain (or three) of dried out prunings. I try to use as much garden refuse as I can as mulch, that is the tops or smaller bits. The larger wood is kept for next winter's firewood, but there's still a lot of in between rubbish and weed that I burn in fire season tidy up. The rain started on cue to damp my fire so it didn't sear foliage on a nearby copper beech tree and a mock orange shrub, which I'll pick for blossom next week. The fantastic rain we've had this year has the garden luxuriating with blossom and new growth. The grass everwhere is lush and thick and trees that have struggled in the dry of the last several years are celebrating in the way of it, growing spectacularly.

The Afghanistan War Debate came and went, without me hearing much of it. I'm no more convinced our involvement is justified than before. The anti-terrorism line makes no sense to me. Too vague. History suggests that military invasion and oppression fuels fanatical resistance and terrorism. Why pour fuel on a fire? They say mastermind Bin Laden is in Pakistan now. Do we now invade there? I hear the Yanks are sending in drone bombers. What if he moves somewhere else? Iran?

What is known, is that Australia is to continue (indefinitely) its involvement in the occupation. The leaders of of our two major parties support it in the interests of global security and the fight against terrorism. I'll continue to feel shame and disappointment, as an Australian opposed to our involvement. I feel little sympathy for our soldiers killed. They are paid professionals employed by the Australian Government. They're well paid while overseas and happy to take the money as a matter of their own choice, aware there's a risk they could be killed or injured. I'm weary of this ultimate sacrifice crap. They take the odds and some lose.

This opinion may be distasteful to some. I feel a moral obligation to voice it nevertheless.

At Last

Lately I've been Commonwealth Gamed, Grand Finalled, now McKilloped. In between I've been Brumbied, as in fire alerted, and plague locussed. I've been Caulfield Cupped, and I'm soon to be Melbourne Cupped. I was Chilean minered. Is it any wonder I'm hype weary?

I heard the other day that a Buddhist objective is to detach emotionally from things that you have no control over. I'm not Buddhist, but it makes sense. This week will test me. I believe there's to be an Afghanistan war debate in parliament. It's several years late, but I'm all ears. I'll try to listen with an open mind. Up until now I haven't understood the need for our part in what is military occupation of another country. The stopping of terrorist training angle doesn't wash with me. Not so far. Bring it on.   

Greetings from Chamomile

Dear George,

Thanks for your recent postcards and news. Most people enjoy getting letters and postcards, especially from the other side of the world. Pictures of Bogota Colombia and Oaxaca Mexico in the mail just give that bit of excitement to the day. Also I enjoy reading a little snap of your life as a parish priest and religious ceremonies.

After four years away from Australia it must be a good feeling to be coming home soon. You said you were taking a trip to The Holy Land then returning to Peru on Oct 22 before leaving for Australia soon after. Elvie, Meredith and I hope you do get the chance to visit us at the farm, for the first time without Pat who remains dear in our hearts and will forever. We each have our fond memories of the wonderfully warm and witty lady. For mine, she had the knack of always making you feel you were important and everything seemed fine when with her, you could laugh at the world. And I felt the same when I was 10 years old through to 50 plus.


It's been some time since I wrote for which I apologize. A previous letter of yours has been on my desk for some months, left deliberately so I'd write but till now it hadn't happened. One way or another life has been hectic. Your letter concluded, "Life is full of change and adventure." That's for sure. Ours probably not as much as yours but our family business and the connection to nature and the elements provides plenty of challenge, interest and excitement. Change is rapid around us. Housing developments here in Gembrook, and new supermarket and shops in Emerald.


Most importantly, we're all well George. We look after each other. It has been a wet year in eastern Australia as I'm sure you've heard. About a month ago there was ten inches of rain in the mountains on one weekend which swelled all the rivers on the north side of the divide with subsequent good flows down the Murray and into Sth Aust., at last. Eildon went up 8% of it's capacity in one week and now is at almost 60%. I remember when we were in Peru our guide telling us that when Australia has a La Nina, Peru has an El Ninio (and vica verca) so I hope the Peruvian farmers are not suffering from an Andes drought. I know that can mean near starvation for some.

Looking forward to seeing you in the not too distant future, safe traveling and God bless,


Carey

PS  I'm writing this on my blog, as then tomorrow I can print on the other computer that has a printer connected, and send it hard copy. Also I can copy and paste onto hotmail and email to you. So it should reach you one way or another when you get back to Peru on the 22nd. Don't forget you have a warm invitation.   

Vanity?

It's been difficult for me to find time to blog for some time now and I've considered giving it up. One less thing to think about doing, is the temptation. I do wonder at my application in previous years, and my motivation. It isn't a vanity thing, as I've heard blogging described. At least no more than other things I do. There's a quote in the Bible, Hughesy told me, "Vanity, vanity, all is vanity." I must ask him where it is so I can check out the context. It seems more like a Shakespeare quote.

I started blogging for writing practice. It gives me pleasure, like a hobby. It satisfies a need  I didn't know I had, to write and record, and comment. So I'm sticking with it. I feel better already tonight having started a post even though I had no idea what I was going to write about. I forced myself. My companion is a cup of strong black coffee.

If anything there are more things than ever to write about. That could be my problem. Where do I start, what do I choose as topic? It's a little overwhelming. Things I might write about for some reason don't appeal. My involvement at the Emerald Museum and Nobelius Heritage Park took up much time in June, July and August, draining me thoroughly. I chose not to write about it, I needed to get away from it, as well as also not wanting to inflame or offend people who may read it, therefore further straining what has been a tenuous predicament. It's a bit touchy yet, in other words. For now let me say simply that I have been shocked at the devious bastardry that can exist.

Since our holiday I've been in work catch up mode, and a pernicious water leak at the farm took much time, energy and expense to locate and rectify. Our winter water bill was huge by comparison to a normal winter bill, after the autumn bill was up more than 100% on the previous year, despite good rain this year and hot dry weather last year. The leak was obviously getting worse and had to be found. After much digging and searching and talk with plumbers it was a water diviner who found it, close to the house. We couldn't believe our bad luck on discovering the burst pipe, the result of inferior copper being used in the original plumbing, shooting water straight into an old storm water drain which had not been in service for more than thirty years, the existence of which we did not remember. It took the water to the lower side of the house and well away to a place where we thought the water logging must be the result of the wet winter as we'd turned off the town water at an isolation valve well before there. There was no evidence of a wet spot anywhere near the leak.

The last two Saturdays we've had Ricky Ralph and Mon from Belgrave and Steve and Ann from across the road for Grand Final barbies which have been great days with fun and laughter. We all know who won the premiership. It's better not to speak of it, other than to say, as Rick said in his email tonight thanking us, "it don't amount to a hill of beans." He's right. I love the footy, but except for it being a good social lubricant bringing together people across generations and differing backgrounds, who wins is really is of little importance. Especially if you compare it to the issues raised on Q and A tonight, which I won't go into or I'll be up all night.

I'm off to bed or I'll be no good on the spade tomorrow. I have a lot of digging to do now that the weather has finally turned warmer. By weeks end I'd like to have in rocket, dill, coriander, Queen Anne's Lace, calendulas, cornflowers, to be followed a little later by zinnias and basil, and more of the former in staggered sowings. It's time to check the bees too. They're busy now, awakened from their slumber of the recent cold months, ready to go round again giving it all they've got.

A Great Australian Blight

Our holiday to Nth Queensland was a success. We arrived in Townsville on time, late on a Monday afternoon, picked up our hire car and followed the GPS to find our motel, the City Central. The lady in the hire car booth couldn't find a paper road map so she gave us a GPS, which normally would cost $10 per day, for no charge. I had declined the GPS with the charge, when ordering the car.

The motel was the cheapest I could find on the net but the room wasn't too bad. It was on the second story of about eight, but the windows wouldn't open so the air conditioning unit was required to escape feeling locked in a stuffy cell. Then we had to endure the whirring noise I so loathe with aircon. I reckon the the motel that night would have been lucky to have had 5% occupancy.

We went out for dinner. The streets were deserted and traffic sparse. We had a couple of pots in a pub sportsbar and watched 'Deal, No Deal' on a big screen. The restaurant was next door. We were two of six patrons and there were many of empty tables. By this time I'd twigged that Monday night is pretty quiet in Townsville.

We got to 'Percy Springs' the next day before lunch. I enjoyed the novelty of the GPS, having used one for the first time the previous day. It wasn't really necessary, we just had to find the road to Charters Towers, stay on it till we hit the town, keep straight till we passed Centenary Park then turn right on the road to Hughenden, go about 15 km then turn left on a dirt road signposted 'Percy Springs'. Another 15km through 3 gates, keep going till the road stopped at the house. Dave had given me directions on the phone before we left Gembrook. 'Percy Springs' didn't come up on the GPS anyway.

Dave was out doing something with cattle. Jodie, whom we'd not met before, greeted us warmly and showed us around the house and where we'd sleep. The house was the original Charters Towers fire station, built in the 1880's and sold to the owners of 'Percy Springs' in the 1970's. It was a timber building on tall stumps. The new owners built in the lower section to make it a two story house. In 2003 the two creeks, on either side of the house, dry usually except after rain, had a peak flood and four feet of water went through the lower section. The occupants moved out and didn't come back. When the current owners took over the house was derelict and home for a multitude of rat's, mice, bats and snakes. They didn't think it was habitable but when Dave and Jodie took the job as caretakers of the 28,000 acre property they started cleaning up. It is now bright and airy and freshly painted featuring much of the original timber inside. Three Pointcettia trees for shade and Dave's thriving new fruit trees give a lush tropical feel in the garden.

Dave, looking strong and healthy and a little more thick set than when I last saw him, came home on his quadbike for lunch of homemade sausages cooked over a Gidgee wood fire. Jodie's home made bread and salad was the perfect foil, rounded off by pumpkin cake.

There was no shortage of pumpkin, about 100 of varoius shapes, sizes and colours were sitting on an old tank stand at the back of the house. Dave explained over lunch that he grew six and half kms of pumkins and melons last season. Where he'd pushed over small trees with a tractor in order to build new fences, he later pushed the fallen scrub into mounds which contained a lot more top soil than otherwise would be in one place. After burning off the timber a lot of ash was left with the soil and into these mounds as he got about on the quad bike he planted melon and pumkin seeds, trying to anticipate the rainfall. It came last January and February and nearly all his seeds grew.

Dave admits he's got a bit a thing for growing pumpkins and melons, an eccentricity let's call it. He reckons the country around there could well be better suited for that purpose and fruit trees than raising cattle. He would have ended up with truckloads of them if the wild pigs hadn't eaten most of the melons and the cattle most of the pumkins when the owners wanted cattle moved in to where they were growing."What could I say?" he said. "It's their property and their cattle."

He still managed to harvest some 600 pumpkins. He took 250 in with him to the Jehovah's Kingdom Hall one week and gave them to the brothers and sisters of his faith. I'll think of Dave next summer out on his rounds spreading pumpkin and melon seeds.

After lunch Dave suggested we have a look at the river so with Dave leading on one quad bike and Lib and I following on another, off we went. They were 600cc Yamahas. It took about half an hour through the scrubby country on well worn tracks and through numerous gates and dry creek beds to reach the main rd to Hughenden which we crossed, shortly after coming to a creek with water in it. There was a car parked there and some people lying on the bank of a water hole. There were the ashes from fires and tin cans and rubbish lying around. Dave explained this was a popular picnic spot for people from ChartersTowers and said what a pity it was they had to leave their rubbish behind.

We crossed this creek carefully at a crossing through about a foot of water and came to a rocky place with a cliff on one side of a large waterhole about 200 metres long. We were still on 'Percy Springs'. This waterhole, probably permanently with water Dave said, filled up when the Burdekin River flooded and was very deep. We parked the bikes on solid rock on the other side to the cliff and walked around looking at the amazing rock formations and picking up interesting stones which were of a broad range of colours. I would imagine this would be a gemstone haven for enthusiasts. Alas, even here there were empty drink cans.

From there we went the Burdekin River and rode along the sand banks for some kms. The river was flowing probably 5-10 metres wide mostly, which you could see would stretch to hundreds of metres when flooding. Tee tree and redgums growing thirty feet above the water were bent almost horizontal by previous floods. It staggered the imagination, thinking of that massive amount of water that must tear along at flood time. Enough to fill Melbourne's reservoirs to capacity in a matter of days I'd suspect.

That evening we had roast venison, a buck Dave had shot somewhere not far away when a keen hunting mate had visited not long ago. We talked about the bower bird's nest we came across, with the collection of shells and bottle tops and silver paper at both the back and front entrances and in the bower itself, the red roos and grass wallabies we'd seen, the native orchids and plums, the ducks, cockies. There was more pumkin cake, and reminiscing.

We left for the trip back to Townsville and Magnetic Island the next day loaded up with bread, containers of frozen soup(beef and bean, and pumpkin) passionfruit, big yellow ones that lasted our whole week on the Island, and pumpkin cake. The visit to 'Percy Springs' will long be in our memory. Magnetic Island wasn't bad either.

So why 'The Great Australian Blight'.  I walked up to the town last Saturday morning, picking up more than a dozen empty aluminium drink cans on the way. It made me think of the cans and litteron the creek banks, river beds and waterholes I'd seen in Nth Qld. Shame on those disgusting people who throw litter from cars or leave it behind on road or riverside. It seems they exist all over the country.           

Flying North

The honey eaters and spinebills are busy in the stachyurus, the peewees are working in the mud along the roadside, the whipbirds are calling early, and we're hopping a jet today to take us to Townsville. A hire car will be waiting at the airport to take Lib and I to a motel and we'll drive tomorrow morning to 'Percy Springs' outside Charter's Towers to stay at our friend Dave Dickson's place, a cattle property he caretakes with his new wife Jodie whom we've not met before. Jodie is Canadian and shares Dave's Jehovah Witness faith.

On Wednesday we leave the hire care in Townsville and catch the ferry to Magnetic Is for a week of R+R in the warm tropics.

I had to post before we left and record that August has seen plenty of rain and cold, and the twenty year anniversary of my abstinence from cigarettes. Well done Carey.

Bye for now.

Ray of Sunshine

July sure was some month. The colonoscopy came and went. All clear, not even a polyp this time. The PSA test was all clear too. I asked the aneasthetist to record my BP before and during the procedure and it was fine. Lib took our BP machine to her doctor for checking against his, it's accurate, so my tests at home are valid.

That leaves only high cholesterol. I've made the decision to live with that without taking medication to lower it. I don't want to live my life running to the doctor every six months when I'm not ill, to get prescriptions and pop pills that may not be of any benefit to me, and may upset my liver function. I heard Scandinavian researchers on the health report show on Radio National say some time ago that people may be better off taking low dose aspirin available over the counter than embarking on lifetime statin drug usage. I bought a box of Solprin the other day, less than $4 it was for 96 tablets, which if taking a third of a tablet a day would last 9-10 months.

Within reason and on balance, I resist pressure to become obsessed with longevity. There's something sweet about life if you drink every day like a thirsty man, thinking it may be your last.

I had two trips to the dentist in July. My normal dentist charges like a wounded bull so I tried a bloke in Berwick. He seems excellent but has the same bovine characteristic.

The Emerald Museum soap opera took it up a notch to a new dramatic peak. Emails, phone calls and meetings embroiled me to the point of exhaustion, at a time when I've been busy at the farm and of course had BAS and end of financial year committments. I'm so far behind in farm maintenance work and home housekeeping it gets scary.

Just when you think the life raft you are clinging too is about to sink and you are about to scream out to everyone that they can go and get knotted, a ray of sunshine appears and the storm calms.

I was sitting outside the bakery last Sunday morning enjoying my curry pie and divvying up a sausage roll for the the dogs (last Sunday of the month ritual reward for man and dogs) when Micayla came by. Micayla is a delightful lady who lives near us and walks her young children and dogs up the street sometimes and we have a chat occasionally. She's a nurse who does shifts now and again at Lib's work. It was immediately obvious that the unborn baby that Micayla was carrying the last time I saw her was no longer contained in her abdomen. I knew the baby was due in July. She told me she'd had a healthy baby boy named Mathew about a week earlier. On her way out of the bakery she stopped again.

"What was the name of the other lady you told me about who was due in July."

"Lara", I answered.

"She must have had hers too, I saw her at the swimming pool last week, although I didn't talk to her."

I walk past Lara's house every morning and each time lately I wondered how she was and if she'd had the baby. (post 5 May). A couple of days later I was driving past Lara's house when I saw her at the car in the drive with a bundle in her arms. I hit brakes and reversed back. Lara walked up the drive carrying the baby.

"Boy or girl?" I called out.

"Girl. 'Lucy'."

By now Lara was close to the van and I could see her face had a beaming smile. Her older two children were boys and she was thrilled to have a girl. Her husband Adrian came up also and I congratulated them both.

I conclude that July was a great month with the arrival of Mathew and Lucy and my petty difficulties and tiredness pale to nothing by comparison.

In For A Service

I went to the doctor last week. I thought I should have the PSA blood test again as it's been two years since I had one. I don't have full knowledge but as I understand it the reading can be much higher than previously which means you have a problem. I'm talking prostate cancer. My follow up appt is next week when I find out the result.

Doctor also said I was a year overdue for another colonoscopy so I'm booked in for that next Tuesday, meaning next Monday is total food fast day allowing me clear soup or bonox only, and nothing at all, not even liquid, on the Tuesday before the procedure, which is scheduled for 10.45am. Also on the day before you have to eat pills and drink 'stuff' to open and empty the bowel. A hell of a lot of fun I don't think.

Doctor also asked why I hadn't been getting prescriptions for the cholesterol lowering medication and the tablet for high blood pressure that I'd been on. I told doc that at $70 per month and a trip to the doctor every six months for a prescription it was getting a bit expensive for someone like me who pays $2500 p.a for family health insurance and a medicare levy on my tax, so I decided to take my chances on the understanding that I was going to die one of these days anyway. I wasn't trying to be a smart alec but I think doc thought I was. She took my blood pressure which was high of course, it always is on her machine, and she included blood test for cholesterol level. I walked out with a prescription for a new combined cholesterol /BP medication for double the strength I need which I can break in half and take a half a pill each day, therefore further reducing the cost. It will now only cost me $16.50 per month. I haven't taken them yet as BP is OK when I test myself at home, and I'll wait to get the results of the cholesterol test in any case, which I find out at my next appt which is the day after the colonoscopy.

Doc said saving money on the medications wouldn't be of much use if I had a heart attack and died. She said for every 4 people who didn't take cholesterol medication who had a heart attack, if they had, one out of the four attacks would have been prevented. Maybe so, but thinking about it later I realized that's a misleading statistic. What about the twenty other with high chol. who didn't have a heart attack? So are we talking about one in four or one in twenty-four? In the meantime I've saved $1500 and three trips to the doctor since I stopped taking them. I don't want to sound foolhardy but I realize that my life could end on any given day in many different ways.

As they say in racing parlance, there's a lot of ways to lose your money.