Officially winter ends today. I think winter finished on Aug 6 or 7, that is 46 days or half of 3 months after the winter solstice, but they aren't going to change it because I have differing logic.
Our young and recently planted Tulip tree (Liriodendron) burst its leaf buds 3 days ago. I bought this tree bare rooted to plant in Nobelius Park last winter (2005). It was to replace one that I'd planted a few weeks earlier but was stolen. The stolen one was planted to replace one that was removed because my predecessor, old Gus, had planted it too close to a large liquidamber, and, because its base bark was damaged by buffoons on tractor mowers, it was not worth the huge expense of moving it. Better to start off with a new one, my arbourist said, and plant it away a bit. I put the new one in a large pot temporarily, not the ideal but better than having it too stolen, with a view to plant it in the autumn at leaf drop, by which time the thief may have moved on or fallen under a truck. For those who don't know, I am curator of Nobelius Heritage Park, an honourary position, as a part of the management committee of this council owned land.
In the meantime, a Vegetation Management plan for the park was started and during conversation with the consultant doing the plan I realized we had plenty of tulip trees in the park and there were higher priorities and limited space. With this on board and a heightened awareness of trees, in particular tulip trees which were never previously high on my list of favourites, come the autumn I saw fresh butter yellow tulip trees all over the district.
I was so impressed I planted the tulip tree at home, to replace a 25yo claret ash, the first tree we planted after our house was built. The ash tree never had coloured up well in autumn but gave precious late afternoon shade to the house in summer so it will be missed for a few years until the tulip tree gains some height. Lib wouldn't entertain any notion of removing the ash, but I finally talked her around, explaining the tulip tree is a quick grower and there's a golden ash attaining some height further from the house and in line with the late summer sun, and my arborist friend Steve agreed the claret ash was of poor form and would cause limb dropping problems in the future. Off came it's head and it will be part off next winter's firewood.
With this background, the new tulip tree is special to me and will be nurtured. One of the things I feel very fortunate about is that my life's path has involved me in planting trees. Our farm, which in 1972 was six and a half acres of weeds, a treeless, former potato paddock, is now a productive garden woodland of hundreds of trees and shrubs. Some of the first trees we planted, English oaks and pinoaks, which Meredith grew fom acorns have been removed because of the massive size they attained in 30 years, taking over the garden and resticting other more productive plants. When the garden is your livelihood you have to constantly renovate and refresh. I do the same at home on our acre and a half. And in the 12 acre Nob. Park the same role came my way, not in creating a commercial garden, but to maintain, improve and preserve the park for the future.
Of course I'd never been familiar with tulip trees because the foliage is of no market value, it doesn't 'keep' in the vase, and it doesn't produce edible nuts or fruit. So we have none at the farm. But the new addition at home is there for shade and autumn colour and I'll enjoy seeing its growth each year, as I do with other trees I plant.
My tree book describes the tulip tree well.
"You can hardly grow a more adaptable or less demanding tree, or one that grows faster. In the wild it grows in the Great Smokies and along the Ohio river, but its range reaches fom the Great Lakes to the Gulf of Mexico. Ideally it likes deep loose soil and a wet spring. A seedling with its prayers answered has grown 50 feet in 11 years, but tulip trees will soldier on in polluted air, mutilated by amateur tree surgeons, in disease (they catch few) and drought (provided there is a moist subsoil). They offer an individuality that makes one think of the gingko. There is no other leaf quite this shape. It keeps an even fresh medium green from spring to autumn then changes to a clear light yellow. As for the tulips, which open in May or June (northern hem.) it's a pity they are not often in reach: they are sumptuous flowers, beloved by bees, with pale green petals opening to show a soft orange lining and a noble array of parts."
Something tells me our tulip tree will have it's prayers answered.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Fears/ Pleasure, Failures/ Success
Regularly I meet with a lady friend, Maria, on Friday afternoons. Now before imaginations run wild I add that our liaison is academic, social and completely 'above board'. Maria runs a creative writing class at the local community hall in Emerald, a pleasant deviation from my normal activity when I can get there. She challenges students to think and explore. A couple of weeks ago the challenge was to make a list of things I fear, then write about something I really love and throw in some of my fears. By embracing both emotions the intensity of what you love increases because of its juxtaposition to what you fear.
I did not find this easy. Firstly, it was drilled into me over years and years that I'm not supposed to be afraid. A male upbringing thing maybe. But thinking about it, I have many fears. Here goes. I fear the loss of my physical abilities and senses. I would loathe to be blind, deaf, or para/quadraplegic, or ill in some way as to not enjoy food, or life. And I fear the same on behalf of my loved ones. These are immediate fears about what happens to people everyday by way of car accidents, diseases and illnesses such as cancer, stroke, heart attack etc, or a severe storm causing a tree or limb to hit house, car or body. And I fear other less direct and immediate things, like environmental calamities such as prolonged drought and degradation of land and sea that may affect us in the future.
So, far from being fearless as I once claimed, I'm easily spooked.
Now to something that I love. My family, my morning walk, the dawn chorus, the garden, trees, good food, wine, a hot bath, reading books. They are all there everyday, and everyday the pleasure is more intense when I think how fortunate I am to have them and be thankful that I haven't lost any of it.
The second part of the challenge was to list my failures then write about my successes.
Three failures spring to mind, but I'm sure there are more.
1. I have no tertiary education qualifications, besides an Advanced Certificate in Apiculture. I'm environmentally conscious but may have been more effective if I was a trained and qualified environmental scientist or engineer for example. Mind you there really wasn't much about in that area in my day, not that I recall anyway.
2. When I was a young boy of 6 or 7 I used to play a game in the back yard where I would arrange a table, chair and paper and pencil and say to my mother that I was going to write poetry. It was always the same, fun setting up, then I couldn't think of anything to write. A bat or ball, or both, soon took the place of pen and paper. Nearly 50 years on I still haven't written one verse of poetry.
3. I never learned to play a musical instrument. My parents insisted I learn the piano when I was a boy but I was hopeless I have to admit.
Now to my success.
Every morning on my walk I give thanks that I'm able to do so. Mind and body are reasonably sound and I have learnt much. I have not succumbed to anything chucked at me yet. They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. And I'm learning still. There is still time for good things. Perhaps the best is yet to come.
Maria once loaned me a book, one of many over time, a collection of essays by Australian author Charmian Clift. In one of these Charmian quoted an old Greek man she met at an ancient temple who said one of the most profound things she'd ever heard, " Nothing worth knowing ever happens further away than a day's mule ride." It reminded her of a saying by Confucius, something like, "A good man makes a good family, a good family makes a good neighbour, a good neighbour makes a good village, a good village makes a good state, a good state makes a good country." I delight in a warm greeting or a hearty wave from my neighbours on my morning walk. Success is different things to different people, which probably depends to some degree on a person's individual history. I won't go into mine now, beyond what I already have, but I'm hoping you've got the drift.
I did not find this easy. Firstly, it was drilled into me over years and years that I'm not supposed to be afraid. A male upbringing thing maybe. But thinking about it, I have many fears. Here goes. I fear the loss of my physical abilities and senses. I would loathe to be blind, deaf, or para/quadraplegic, or ill in some way as to not enjoy food, or life. And I fear the same on behalf of my loved ones. These are immediate fears about what happens to people everyday by way of car accidents, diseases and illnesses such as cancer, stroke, heart attack etc, or a severe storm causing a tree or limb to hit house, car or body. And I fear other less direct and immediate things, like environmental calamities such as prolonged drought and degradation of land and sea that may affect us in the future.
So, far from being fearless as I once claimed, I'm easily spooked.
Now to something that I love. My family, my morning walk, the dawn chorus, the garden, trees, good food, wine, a hot bath, reading books. They are all there everyday, and everyday the pleasure is more intense when I think how fortunate I am to have them and be thankful that I haven't lost any of it.
The second part of the challenge was to list my failures then write about my successes.
Three failures spring to mind, but I'm sure there are more.
1. I have no tertiary education qualifications, besides an Advanced Certificate in Apiculture. I'm environmentally conscious but may have been more effective if I was a trained and qualified environmental scientist or engineer for example. Mind you there really wasn't much about in that area in my day, not that I recall anyway.
2. When I was a young boy of 6 or 7 I used to play a game in the back yard where I would arrange a table, chair and paper and pencil and say to my mother that I was going to write poetry. It was always the same, fun setting up, then I couldn't think of anything to write. A bat or ball, or both, soon took the place of pen and paper. Nearly 50 years on I still haven't written one verse of poetry.
3. I never learned to play a musical instrument. My parents insisted I learn the piano when I was a boy but I was hopeless I have to admit.
Now to my success.
Every morning on my walk I give thanks that I'm able to do so. Mind and body are reasonably sound and I have learnt much. I have not succumbed to anything chucked at me yet. They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. And I'm learning still. There is still time for good things. Perhaps the best is yet to come.
Maria once loaned me a book, one of many over time, a collection of essays by Australian author Charmian Clift. In one of these Charmian quoted an old Greek man she met at an ancient temple who said one of the most profound things she'd ever heard, " Nothing worth knowing ever happens further away than a day's mule ride." It reminded her of a saying by Confucius, something like, "A good man makes a good family, a good family makes a good neighbour, a good neighbour makes a good village, a good village makes a good state, a good state makes a good country." I delight in a warm greeting or a hearty wave from my neighbours on my morning walk. Success is different things to different people, which probably depends to some degree on a person's individual history. I won't go into mine now, beyond what I already have, but I'm hoping you've got the drift.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Rain!
The red sky shepherds warning of Monday's sunrise was accurate. A strong wind blew up and Tuesday brought showers that were no value above nuisance. But last night it rained and kept up gently all night and into this morning. There was 22 ml in the gauge which was most welcome. I checked the stats in the post office window and in June we had 28ml (118ml is 32 year average) and July we had 87ml (112ml is the average), and we've had very little in August before this 22ml. It's El Ninio, so they are now saying, with very ugly predictions.
Following my last post, Safeway Pakenham did have oysters and Lib's birthday dinner was a success. She loved her presents and said it was the the best birthday she'd had. Good stuff hey! We'll all have to learn how to use the camera, that was part of my thinking, that it would be a family friendly thing and the boys would help us 'oldies' with it.
I'm so tired and looking forward to the weekend.
Following my last post, Safeway Pakenham did have oysters and Lib's birthday dinner was a success. She loved her presents and said it was the the best birthday she'd had. Good stuff hey! We'll all have to learn how to use the camera, that was part of my thinking, that it would be a family friendly thing and the boys would help us 'oldies' with it.
I'm so tired and looking forward to the weekend.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Rick on Crete
Checking my email at 5.30 am this morning I received news from Rick that he and Mon had explored Crete by motorbike the previous day and the temperature is 35-40C every day and he's not seen one cloud in the sky the whole time. They are now looking for a place to rest for a few days and swim and drink retsina. I had emailed him yesterday informing him that I'd had a bad round in the footy tipping and he is now the new leader, two ahead of me. With only two rounds to go it's not looking good for me and I really do want to win the free lunch at his expense. He is finding internet cafes and accessing his hotmail address back, because that's where I send the progressive scores. Amazing ain't it!
Today is Lib's 50th birthday. I have bought her a Pentax digital camera, some Samsari perfume, hand lotion, and a good supply of toothpicks, amongst other bits and pieces. She hasn't opened her presents yet as the boys left at 6.00am and she at 6.30. We'll have a little present opening ceremony with some champagne this evening. Her 'order' for dinner is carpetbag steak. The fillet steak is no problem but I'm having trouble sourcing a dozen shell oysters on a Tuesday. I rang the supermarket in Emerald that has them sometimes but not today. I'll ring Safeway at Pakenham and I hope they have some.
I asked Jod about the grey thrush and he said yes, that's what it would have been, except it's really a shrike thrush. I said I couldn't recall seeing one around Gembrook before so it must be an uncommon bird but he said no, they are around this area and he sees them at the farm now and again, but they're a shy bird, so are not seen often. He said they lay a white egg with brown and black spots at the fat end which he remembers from his bird egging days in his youth. His memory is almost unbelievable. He went on to say that the speckled thrush which used to be around Mt. Waverley when we were young in the 1960's lays sky blue eggs with similar spots on the fat end. Also called song thrush it is an introduced English bird which makes a similar nest to the native grey shrike thrush but it lines it with mud. He said Song thrush are rare now and were only ever around Melbourne, in the hills, and a few other places like Ballarat and Warragul. He added that I should look after them if I see them because they are almost extinct in England. Wow! What you can learn unexpectedly on any given day, just by looking and talking! I do see the odd song thrush here at Gembrook and I have elevated them to my 'treasured' list of things.
Today is Lib's 50th birthday. I have bought her a Pentax digital camera, some Samsari perfume, hand lotion, and a good supply of toothpicks, amongst other bits and pieces. She hasn't opened her presents yet as the boys left at 6.00am and she at 6.30. We'll have a little present opening ceremony with some champagne this evening. Her 'order' for dinner is carpetbag steak. The fillet steak is no problem but I'm having trouble sourcing a dozen shell oysters on a Tuesday. I rang the supermarket in Emerald that has them sometimes but not today. I'll ring Safeway at Pakenham and I hope they have some.
I asked Jod about the grey thrush and he said yes, that's what it would have been, except it's really a shrike thrush. I said I couldn't recall seeing one around Gembrook before so it must be an uncommon bird but he said no, they are around this area and he sees them at the farm now and again, but they're a shy bird, so are not seen often. He said they lay a white egg with brown and black spots at the fat end which he remembers from his bird egging days in his youth. His memory is almost unbelievable. He went on to say that the speckled thrush which used to be around Mt. Waverley when we were young in the 1960's lays sky blue eggs with similar spots on the fat end. Also called song thrush it is an introduced English bird which makes a similar nest to the native grey shrike thrush but it lines it with mud. He said Song thrush are rare now and were only ever around Melbourne, in the hills, and a few other places like Ballarat and Warragul. He added that I should look after them if I see them because they are almost extinct in England. Wow! What you can learn unexpectedly on any given day, just by looking and talking! I do see the odd song thrush here at Gembrook and I have elevated them to my 'treasured' list of things.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Red Sky and Grey Thrush
At the footy yesterday our team, the Melbourne Demons, had a big win over the Kangaroos after a tardy start. We were 20 points the worse at halftime but ended up winning by 50. 'Flash' Davey and skipper Neitz set it up with scintillating play in the third quarter.
On my morning walk today the sunrise was red (or deep pink) which is the 'shepherd's warning'. We certainly need rain. The charts in the window of the post office show that rainfall for June and July were very much below the 30 year average (I can't recall the exact readings) and I believe Melbourne's water storages are at 47% of capacity with no snow melt runoff likely in the months to come because there is very little snow, so it is serious with the prospect of a long hot summer ahead.
Lately the birds are noisy before I leave the house for my walk. Raucous wattlebirds and the 'whip crack' of the male Eastern whipbird, followed immediately by the answering sharp whistle of the female, draw me hurriedly out to join them in celebration and thanks for the new day. This morning a bird I don't usually see flew up from the gravel in front of me on Quinn Rd, taking refuge in a cotoneaster. It's movement was 'soft' and it was about the size of a blackbird. As I passed I slowed and looked into the tree seeing a superb creature with a grey breast and darker wings and tail. It's eyes were coal black. I assume it was a grey thrush but I'll have to ask Jod about it later.
On my morning walk today the sunrise was red (or deep pink) which is the 'shepherd's warning'. We certainly need rain. The charts in the window of the post office show that rainfall for June and July were very much below the 30 year average (I can't recall the exact readings) and I believe Melbourne's water storages are at 47% of capacity with no snow melt runoff likely in the months to come because there is very little snow, so it is serious with the prospect of a long hot summer ahead.
Lately the birds are noisy before I leave the house for my walk. Raucous wattlebirds and the 'whip crack' of the male Eastern whipbird, followed immediately by the answering sharp whistle of the female, draw me hurriedly out to join them in celebration and thanks for the new day. This morning a bird I don't usually see flew up from the gravel in front of me on Quinn Rd, taking refuge in a cotoneaster. It's movement was 'soft' and it was about the size of a blackbird. As I passed I slowed and looked into the tree seeing a superb creature with a grey breast and darker wings and tail. It's eyes were coal black. I assume it was a grey thrush but I'll have to ask Jod about it later.
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Jimmy Buffet
Yesterday morning, Saturday, after my morning walk I played a music CD, 'A Pirates Treasure, 20 Jimmy Buffet Gems'. In no time at all I felt laid back and relaxed and at peace with my demons, after 3 weeks of busy busy work and running around with little time for self indulgence. Jimmy Buffet can do this for me, he's a bit like on old mate, I having first enjoyed his songs as a young man more 30 years ago. He's of my generation although about 5 years or so older. His style would not appeal to everybody, in fact many may think he's a Bogan. But there's a humour in his work that comes with the raunchy, irreverent, boozy nature of it. It soothes me. It frees me of guilt from my errant youth, and reminds me that it's OK to let my hair down and be humanly fallible.
When the boys were young they often came with me on days when Lib worked. A couple of days a week I'd do deliveries around Melbourne, foliage and flowers to florists and herbs and flowers to restaurants. I'd play cassette tapes in the van. Gordon liked Jimmy Buffet, and when he was older he'd sometimes buy me a gift for Xmas off the net so a couple of Jimmy Buffet CDs kept me up to speed and last year a book written by Jimmy titled 'A Salty Piece of Land' turned up for my birthday. It was a good read and I laughed and laughed. It's so good to laugh. I've always been too serious, trying to put wrongs right. Jimmy B helps me lighten up and lose some baggage, though I may go 6 months without playing him.
On Friday night Lib and I had dinner with Huiet and Wilma at their house. A pleasant evening with good food and conversation and some games of pool. I hadn't handled a pool cue for many years and Hueit was too good for me. Last night we again had dinner out, this time at John and Raelene's at Avonsleigh, who made the evening a bit of a celebration for Lib's 50th birthday (complete with '50th' balloons and tiara) which is on Tuesday the 22nd. They have recently returned from a few weeks in the south of France staying in holiday cabins in 3 three French villages so the evening had a French flavour with apperatif and wine being French (John bought it at Dan Murphy Berwick) and we watched the modern equivalent of a slide show on the new giant flatscreen via ipod. The meal was good old Aussie beef, ozzo bucco, topped with mashed potato and parsley. Bon appetit! The slide show was followed by some DVD's of live reunion concerts of Roy Orbison and some of the Willbury crew, The Everley Brothers and Simon and Garfuncle. Gord picked us up a little worse for wear and we got home after 2.00am.
Today we're going to the footy in Melbourne and taking Raelene who hasn't been to the AFL for decades. We are leaving soon so I'd better sign off and do some household chores before we go.
When the boys were young they often came with me on days when Lib worked. A couple of days a week I'd do deliveries around Melbourne, foliage and flowers to florists and herbs and flowers to restaurants. I'd play cassette tapes in the van. Gordon liked Jimmy Buffet, and when he was older he'd sometimes buy me a gift for Xmas off the net so a couple of Jimmy Buffet CDs kept me up to speed and last year a book written by Jimmy titled 'A Salty Piece of Land' turned up for my birthday. It was a good read and I laughed and laughed. It's so good to laugh. I've always been too serious, trying to put wrongs right. Jimmy B helps me lighten up and lose some baggage, though I may go 6 months without playing him.
On Friday night Lib and I had dinner with Huiet and Wilma at their house. A pleasant evening with good food and conversation and some games of pool. I hadn't handled a pool cue for many years and Hueit was too good for me. Last night we again had dinner out, this time at John and Raelene's at Avonsleigh, who made the evening a bit of a celebration for Lib's 50th birthday (complete with '50th' balloons and tiara) which is on Tuesday the 22nd. They have recently returned from a few weeks in the south of France staying in holiday cabins in 3 three French villages so the evening had a French flavour with apperatif and wine being French (John bought it at Dan Murphy Berwick) and we watched the modern equivalent of a slide show on the new giant flatscreen via ipod. The meal was good old Aussie beef, ozzo bucco, topped with mashed potato and parsley. Bon appetit! The slide show was followed by some DVD's of live reunion concerts of Roy Orbison and some of the Willbury crew, The Everley Brothers and Simon and Garfuncle. Gord picked us up a little worse for wear and we got home after 2.00am.
Today we're going to the footy in Melbourne and taking Raelene who hasn't been to the AFL for decades. We are leaving soon so I'd better sign off and do some household chores before we go.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Mrs.Cunliffe
Last Monday, August 7, Mrs.Cunliffe died.
That won't mean anything to any reader except Punjab. Jod told me she died the next day, after he'd seen the notice in the obituaries in the Herald Sun. Jod also told me that August 7 was Wayne's bithday. Had Wayne been alive he would have turned 57.
The Cunliffe's lived around the corner from us in Mt.Waverley. There were 3 children. Wayne was the same age as brother Jod, Barbara went through primary school in the same year as me, and Gary was in sister Meredith's year. We were baby boomers in the then outer suburban Mt. Waverley, which teemed with children and youth in the 1950's and 60's.
I don't remember a lot of Mrs. Cunliffe, except that it seemed every other day she would come to our door looking for Wayne. My mother was a working mother in the the 1960's and as many friend's mothers did, Mrs C. frowned on the freedom the neighbourhood kids had at the Williams house. She thought Jod and Wayne and their mates would be getting up to mischief, and she was often right. I remember once there was hell to pay when they'd been identified as the culprits marauding the streets tossing eggs at the front doors of people they didn't like. A step up from knick knock which had become boring.
Often she would send Barbara looking for Wayne with the message that if he wasn't home by such and such a time for his meal it would be given to the dog and he would get a hiding form his father. They must have kept to strict mealtimes at the Cunliffe's, something unknown in the Williams' house.
I remember one day Barbara came to the door, later in those Mt Waverley years, and I answered the knock. She said, "Wayne's been killed in a truck accident." That's all, just like that. She was in a state of high excitement, like shock in reverse. I asked was Joddy alright and she replied she didn't know, all she knew was that Wayne was dead.
Last Friday at the farm, Jod asked me to sign a card of condolence he was sending from our family to Mr. Cunliffe and family. I asked him what year it was that Wayne was killed and he told me with no hesitation, "It was 20th November 1970." Wayne was 21. Jod, Wayne, Ian (Punjab) and Ray McLoed, all mates through Mt Waverley primary school, had joined the Victorian Railways after leaving Syndal tech. and were firemen or trainee drivers. Jod and Wayne, perhaps looking for new adventure, had taken extended annual leave from the railways and made a trip to the Northern Territory for a working holiday. Wayne got work at the Darwin brickworks and Jod teamed up with a buffalo hunter and fisherman, or a "professional poacher" as Jod called him, and went fishing in Arnhemland where you weren't supposed to fish.
After 3 weeks, in which period Jod would have turned 21, they met in the Victoria Hotel in Darwin and had a few beers. Wayne had had enough of working in the heat at the brickworks and said he was getting out of there and going home. He could stand the humidity no longer and there was months of wet season ahead. He wanted Jod to come home with him as they had a chance to get a lift south from the mail truck driver whom they knew. Jod wavered, but at the last minute decided to stay for another trip into the bush for barramundi and the odd crocodile belly skin which sold even then for $3.45 per square inch. Jod's memory for detail never ceases to amaze me, and this despite the consumption of much beer for most of his adult life, which I think was the lure of the fishing trips into the bush, as the 'fisherman' had portable refrigeration. Wayne left in a shitty with Jod for not going back with him, which troubled Jod for many years, but the decision may well have saved his life because the truck left the road near Katherine and rolled on Wayne who was thrown from the cabin.
Jod didn't know this had happened. The police didn't know where to find him. Six days later after returning from the bush he was drinking in a pub when someone recognized him him as the mate of the young bloke who was killed in the recent truck accident. This was an enormous shock for Jod and he returned home straightaway.
I thought about all this on my morning walk today. It was 1 degree celsius when I left the house in a lifting fog at 7.00am. There were cockatoos screeching and magpies warbling as I went up Quinn Rd. The magpies must be close to feeding young so I could well be ducking swoops before long. I picked a bunch of grape hyacinths outside St. Silas church and teased the fenced in dogs that wait for me to pass their place. I hiss at them and do a threatening stance which infuriates them, but I'm sure it makes their day that much brighter, and it's a bit of fun for me and Snowy.
My new glasses are terrific. I can see the heavy budding on the messmate trees. Given stable weather next summer there could be a huge honey flow right here, like there was in 2003/4. And the other eucies are well budded too.
On the return towards home I saw a group of nine galahs sitting on the wires in front of Leo Buckley's house. They looked larger than normal galahs and it made me think so I stopped and looked back at them. They were enjoying the sun after a cold night and had feathers fluffed out to take in the warmth. Then I noticed several more doing the same thing in the top of a liquid amber in Leo's yard. I stood there for a few minutes watching them and many other birds in the top of a tall dead tree further back. They were minahs and mudlarks as well as galahs and possibly starlings, they were too far away to name by sight but when one took off and flew it could be identified by the flight. They were sunbaking, at 8.00am. In the the distance behind the dead tree a jet airliner was clearly visible, it's silvery fuselage catching the bright morning sun and reflecting it back. It was a wonderful morning to gaze about from a good site. (As I stood looking a neighbour, Anne, who also walks, came by. We discussed the basking galahs and I asked her had she ever seen them hanging upside down from the wires in a rainstorm after dry weather to which she replied she hadn't. I told her to watch for it in the warm weather. Funny buggers, galahs.) The twigs and branches of the deciduous trees make a stunning contrast with the bright morning sky. I will enjoy each type of tree bursting into leaf at different times and in different shades of green more than any spring before. I'm lucky to live in a place as scenic and peaceful as Gembrook. We've been here 25 years. In many ways it's a bit odd as far as towns or communities go, which I'll try to expand on another day, but it has much to recommend it.
That won't mean anything to any reader except Punjab. Jod told me she died the next day, after he'd seen the notice in the obituaries in the Herald Sun. Jod also told me that August 7 was Wayne's bithday. Had Wayne been alive he would have turned 57.
The Cunliffe's lived around the corner from us in Mt.Waverley. There were 3 children. Wayne was the same age as brother Jod, Barbara went through primary school in the same year as me, and Gary was in sister Meredith's year. We were baby boomers in the then outer suburban Mt. Waverley, which teemed with children and youth in the 1950's and 60's.
I don't remember a lot of Mrs. Cunliffe, except that it seemed every other day she would come to our door looking for Wayne. My mother was a working mother in the the 1960's and as many friend's mothers did, Mrs C. frowned on the freedom the neighbourhood kids had at the Williams house. She thought Jod and Wayne and their mates would be getting up to mischief, and she was often right. I remember once there was hell to pay when they'd been identified as the culprits marauding the streets tossing eggs at the front doors of people they didn't like. A step up from knick knock which had become boring.
Often she would send Barbara looking for Wayne with the message that if he wasn't home by such and such a time for his meal it would be given to the dog and he would get a hiding form his father. They must have kept to strict mealtimes at the Cunliffe's, something unknown in the Williams' house.
I remember one day Barbara came to the door, later in those Mt Waverley years, and I answered the knock. She said, "Wayne's been killed in a truck accident." That's all, just like that. She was in a state of high excitement, like shock in reverse. I asked was Joddy alright and she replied she didn't know, all she knew was that Wayne was dead.
Last Friday at the farm, Jod asked me to sign a card of condolence he was sending from our family to Mr. Cunliffe and family. I asked him what year it was that Wayne was killed and he told me with no hesitation, "It was 20th November 1970." Wayne was 21. Jod, Wayne, Ian (Punjab) and Ray McLoed, all mates through Mt Waverley primary school, had joined the Victorian Railways after leaving Syndal tech. and were firemen or trainee drivers. Jod and Wayne, perhaps looking for new adventure, had taken extended annual leave from the railways and made a trip to the Northern Territory for a working holiday. Wayne got work at the Darwin brickworks and Jod teamed up with a buffalo hunter and fisherman, or a "professional poacher" as Jod called him, and went fishing in Arnhemland where you weren't supposed to fish.
After 3 weeks, in which period Jod would have turned 21, they met in the Victoria Hotel in Darwin and had a few beers. Wayne had had enough of working in the heat at the brickworks and said he was getting out of there and going home. He could stand the humidity no longer and there was months of wet season ahead. He wanted Jod to come home with him as they had a chance to get a lift south from the mail truck driver whom they knew. Jod wavered, but at the last minute decided to stay for another trip into the bush for barramundi and the odd crocodile belly skin which sold even then for $3.45 per square inch. Jod's memory for detail never ceases to amaze me, and this despite the consumption of much beer for most of his adult life, which I think was the lure of the fishing trips into the bush, as the 'fisherman' had portable refrigeration. Wayne left in a shitty with Jod for not going back with him, which troubled Jod for many years, but the decision may well have saved his life because the truck left the road near Katherine and rolled on Wayne who was thrown from the cabin.
Jod didn't know this had happened. The police didn't know where to find him. Six days later after returning from the bush he was drinking in a pub when someone recognized him him as the mate of the young bloke who was killed in the recent truck accident. This was an enormous shock for Jod and he returned home straightaway.
I thought about all this on my morning walk today. It was 1 degree celsius when I left the house in a lifting fog at 7.00am. There were cockatoos screeching and magpies warbling as I went up Quinn Rd. The magpies must be close to feeding young so I could well be ducking swoops before long. I picked a bunch of grape hyacinths outside St. Silas church and teased the fenced in dogs that wait for me to pass their place. I hiss at them and do a threatening stance which infuriates them, but I'm sure it makes their day that much brighter, and it's a bit of fun for me and Snowy.
My new glasses are terrific. I can see the heavy budding on the messmate trees. Given stable weather next summer there could be a huge honey flow right here, like there was in 2003/4. And the other eucies are well budded too.
On the return towards home I saw a group of nine galahs sitting on the wires in front of Leo Buckley's house. They looked larger than normal galahs and it made me think so I stopped and looked back at them. They were enjoying the sun after a cold night and had feathers fluffed out to take in the warmth. Then I noticed several more doing the same thing in the top of a liquid amber in Leo's yard. I stood there for a few minutes watching them and many other birds in the top of a tall dead tree further back. They were minahs and mudlarks as well as galahs and possibly starlings, they were too far away to name by sight but when one took off and flew it could be identified by the flight. They were sunbaking, at 8.00am. In the the distance behind the dead tree a jet airliner was clearly visible, it's silvery fuselage catching the bright morning sun and reflecting it back. It was a wonderful morning to gaze about from a good site. (As I stood looking a neighbour, Anne, who also walks, came by. We discussed the basking galahs and I asked her had she ever seen them hanging upside down from the wires in a rainstorm after dry weather to which she replied she hadn't. I told her to watch for it in the warm weather. Funny buggers, galahs.) The twigs and branches of the deciduous trees make a stunning contrast with the bright morning sky. I will enjoy each type of tree bursting into leaf at different times and in different shades of green more than any spring before. I'm lucky to live in a place as scenic and peaceful as Gembrook. We've been here 25 years. In many ways it's a bit odd as far as towns or communities go, which I'll try to expand on another day, but it has much to recommend it.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Lyle Update
I haven't had time to blog for a while, and I don't now really, but I should update my friends on my dad's situation. He's doing well, he's 'stabilised', is what Lib told me is the correct term. Some days he doesn't get out of bed, others he does and watches television in the loungeroom. He moves about on a walking frame but tires quickly. It was a strange feeling that hit me, one day a couple of weeks ago when we had some sunny weather, when I drove into the farm and saw Lyle sitting in the sun on the front porch (it was the same day as my previous blog) in his walking frame that doubles as a chair. He had a blanket over his legs and a beanie on his head and was drinking a mug of tea. He looked geriatric, which he is I suppose, but I had never really thought of him that way until seeing him then, despite the seriousness of his condition. His debilitation suddenly was so stark and real. I had never seen him sitting on the front porch, and wasn't expecting to.
Another day he was going crook at Elvie, complaining that he hadn't slept for weeks since he went into hospital. Elvie calmly told him that wasn't true and that he shouldn't shout or he might have a heart attack, and I said something about the last thing Elvie needs is him shouting at her. When I told Lib this later she said they all get frustrated at not being able to do anything and get angry now and again.
For the most part he's in good spirits and is optimistic that he's improving. Yesterday he went to the urologist (uncle Geoff, Lyle's bro. took him) who said he will be able to help. I'm suspicious because it was after following the urologist's medication last time he became so ill and nearly died.
So we carry on. He's in a seemingly permanent state of of convalescence and all his food and drink has to be carefully monitored. It's difficult for Elv as she has to check on him all the time. He get's very cold and she has to help him with things like putting on his socks. All things considered we are getting on well.
Times up, I've got to fly.
Another day he was going crook at Elvie, complaining that he hadn't slept for weeks since he went into hospital. Elvie calmly told him that wasn't true and that he shouldn't shout or he might have a heart attack, and I said something about the last thing Elvie needs is him shouting at her. When I told Lib this later she said they all get frustrated at not being able to do anything and get angry now and again.
For the most part he's in good spirits and is optimistic that he's improving. Yesterday he went to the urologist (uncle Geoff, Lyle's bro. took him) who said he will be able to help. I'm suspicious because it was after following the urologist's medication last time he became so ill and nearly died.
So we carry on. He's in a seemingly permanent state of of convalescence and all his food and drink has to be carefully monitored. It's difficult for Elv as she has to check on him all the time. He get's very cold and she has to help him with things like putting on his socks. All things considered we are getting on well.
Times up, I've got to fly.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Thank God It's Friday
What a week it was! The sun is streaming through the parlour window and the thermometer outside says it's 18C. No sooner did I declare spring was here a couple of entries ago than I heard familiar chirping and saw 2 sparrows, damn it, outside on the deck wires, the first sparrows I've seen for months. No doubt the little buggers breed quicker than rabbits. Then a couple of blowies were in the house the same morning. They come down the chimney on the warmer days till we stop lighting the fire at night and close the chimney flue.
I resumed my morning walk after missing a day with the sore ankle, but I had a bad night with my back. Yesterday while Lib's car was serviced I sat in a nearby coffee shop doing my BAS, having printed out the GST report earlier and taking all the necessaries with me to finish it. Then to Emerald after the car was finished and to Theresa for my 1.30pm massage and manipulation appointment. She does a Chinese massage and she is the best I've known. Just a little slip of a thing she is too. After that I did a trip to Sassafrass to pick some daphne at a friend's place (light duties at Theresa's instruction). The back was very sensitive during the night but has come good now and I feel I am close to full recovery from the violent and nasty shock of the fall two days ago.
It shows me what a fine line we walk every day.
My mate Rick emailed me after reading the blog about the pink sky. "Red sky in the evening, shepherd's delight, Red sky in the morning, shepherd's warning," is the saying he says, and apparently there's a solid scientific explanation for it which he can't remember.
I resumed my morning walk after missing a day with the sore ankle, but I had a bad night with my back. Yesterday while Lib's car was serviced I sat in a nearby coffee shop doing my BAS, having printed out the GST report earlier and taking all the necessaries with me to finish it. Then to Emerald after the car was finished and to Theresa for my 1.30pm massage and manipulation appointment. She does a Chinese massage and she is the best I've known. Just a little slip of a thing she is too. After that I did a trip to Sassafrass to pick some daphne at a friend's place (light duties at Theresa's instruction). The back was very sensitive during the night but has come good now and I feel I am close to full recovery from the violent and nasty shock of the fall two days ago.
It shows me what a fine line we walk every day.
My mate Rick emailed me after reading the blog about the pink sky. "Red sky in the evening, shepherd's delight, Red sky in the morning, shepherd's warning," is the saying he says, and apparently there's a solid scientific explanation for it which he can't remember.
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Humpty Dumpty Had a Big Fall
Since my last entry Robbie's mid year report came and it was excellent. His teachers say he has a good understanding of all the concepts in the two maths and physics and chemistry. Even his English teacher was complimentary and he hates English.
Yesterday after dropping him off at Emerald I worked again on Steve's hedge. I needed 50 bunches for an order for pick up that afternoon. After the first few bunches I moved my ladder along the hedge. It's an orchardist's ladder, a tripod, a set of rungs between two legs and a leg at the front which moves in or out and the legs can be carefully positioned on uneven terrain to obtain reasonable stability. But you must be careful in setting up, which becomes instinctive. The ground at Steve's is level and does not present difficulty.
I went to the second top rung, at 7ft, from where I brace myself with my shins on the top rung. This leads to sore shins which callous and bleed often because the skin there is so thin and does not get a chance to heal properly, but that's another story. This time when I reached the top, the ladder moved suddenly. I fell. but somehow my right lower leg was stuck between the two top rungs. So as I went down I swung to vertical head first, my ankle being reefed out by my body weight and I landed miraculously on my upper back with a very powerful jolt.
The fall would have only taken one second but in that time I had visualised a wrecked knee or a broken neck as the brain tried to keep up with the event. Fortunately I could stand straight away but was aware of pain in my back and didn't feel I could walk for a while. I gradually recovered composure and looked at the ladder to see what had gone wrong. The third leg, which I had positioned inside the hedge, had fallen into a hole beneath the surface causing me to lose footing. I had never had this happen before. I've had the ladder tip sideways and even fall straight down flat when the legs have slipped on concrete where they couldn't get a hold, but I would not have anticipated the front single leg dropping a foot suddenly into a hole.
I gingerly finished the 50 bunches, more slowly than I would normally and aware of pain in my ankle and back. Then it was off to Cockatoo to pick thirty bunches of pitto at Craig and Leanne's. The ankle was very sore when I finished and I went home for lunch. Lib had the day off because she swapped shifts with someone as a favour and had worked last Saturday. It was a lovely day and she was doing a good job of pruning the hydrangeas and enjoying the sunshine. I had made another curry last Saturday when she was at work which we'd had for dinner last night, and we had the leftovers for lunch.
After sitting down for lunch and a cuppa, my ankle became so sore that walking caused excruciating pain. A phone message had come through that a customer wanted as many winter poker flowers as I could find that afternoon so I knew I was going to have a hard time of it. Meredith helped me pick the pokers and I was very pleased to be finished. On the way home I bought an ankle bandage from the chemist and some anti-inflammatory tablets. I didn't feel well at all. After tea Lib bandaged my ankle and I went straight to bed, where I lay awake for hours with aching in the ankle. After awhile I found that if I pointed my big toe down gently then lifted it up the other way as far I could the aching would stop for 3 or 4 seconds. These little breaks were blissfull. The pain eventually subsided and I fell asleep.
When I got out of bed at 5.30am I could barely walk on it it was so painful but I decided I had two choices, either go back to bed and stay off the ankle in which case it would probably seize up and take much rehab later, or keep moving and functioning and endure some pain but come good quicker, which I chose. Besides I have to get Robbie to Emerald to catch the bus and Lib's car to Bruno's in Ferntree Gully for a service where it is booked in at 9.30.
Yesterday after dropping him off at Emerald I worked again on Steve's hedge. I needed 50 bunches for an order for pick up that afternoon. After the first few bunches I moved my ladder along the hedge. It's an orchardist's ladder, a tripod, a set of rungs between two legs and a leg at the front which moves in or out and the legs can be carefully positioned on uneven terrain to obtain reasonable stability. But you must be careful in setting up, which becomes instinctive. The ground at Steve's is level and does not present difficulty.
I went to the second top rung, at 7ft, from where I brace myself with my shins on the top rung. This leads to sore shins which callous and bleed often because the skin there is so thin and does not get a chance to heal properly, but that's another story. This time when I reached the top, the ladder moved suddenly. I fell. but somehow my right lower leg was stuck between the two top rungs. So as I went down I swung to vertical head first, my ankle being reefed out by my body weight and I landed miraculously on my upper back with a very powerful jolt.
The fall would have only taken one second but in that time I had visualised a wrecked knee or a broken neck as the brain tried to keep up with the event. Fortunately I could stand straight away but was aware of pain in my back and didn't feel I could walk for a while. I gradually recovered composure and looked at the ladder to see what had gone wrong. The third leg, which I had positioned inside the hedge, had fallen into a hole beneath the surface causing me to lose footing. I had never had this happen before. I've had the ladder tip sideways and even fall straight down flat when the legs have slipped on concrete where they couldn't get a hold, but I would not have anticipated the front single leg dropping a foot suddenly into a hole.
I gingerly finished the 50 bunches, more slowly than I would normally and aware of pain in my ankle and back. Then it was off to Cockatoo to pick thirty bunches of pitto at Craig and Leanne's. The ankle was very sore when I finished and I went home for lunch. Lib had the day off because she swapped shifts with someone as a favour and had worked last Saturday. It was a lovely day and she was doing a good job of pruning the hydrangeas and enjoying the sunshine. I had made another curry last Saturday when she was at work which we'd had for dinner last night, and we had the leftovers for lunch.
After sitting down for lunch and a cuppa, my ankle became so sore that walking caused excruciating pain. A phone message had come through that a customer wanted as many winter poker flowers as I could find that afternoon so I knew I was going to have a hard time of it. Meredith helped me pick the pokers and I was very pleased to be finished. On the way home I bought an ankle bandage from the chemist and some anti-inflammatory tablets. I didn't feel well at all. After tea Lib bandaged my ankle and I went straight to bed, where I lay awake for hours with aching in the ankle. After awhile I found that if I pointed my big toe down gently then lifted it up the other way as far I could the aching would stop for 3 or 4 seconds. These little breaks were blissfull. The pain eventually subsided and I fell asleep.
When I got out of bed at 5.30am I could barely walk on it it was so painful but I decided I had two choices, either go back to bed and stay off the ankle in which case it would probably seize up and take much rehab later, or keep moving and functioning and endure some pain but come good quicker, which I chose. Besides I have to get Robbie to Emerald to catch the bus and Lib's car to Bruno's in Ferntree Gully for a service where it is booked in at 9.30.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Oh No! Where's Snow?
On Wednesday and Thursday I drive Robbie to Emerald to catch an 8.55am bus to Belgrave railway station. This enables him to have an extra hour's sleep because if I didn't he'd have to catch a 7.30 bus from Gembrook. It's all to do with his timetable and I do what I can to help because he has 4 hours travelling to get to school and back each day. Throw in a couple of 5.30 starts and study late into the night and he has set himself a gruelling schedule by choosing Box Hill SC as his school for this crucial year 12.
Usually after dropping him off I might do a small job in Emerald and then go back to Gembrook to pick up my routine which revolves around what I have to pick in various places. I take Snowie with me for the ride these mornings, and leave her home in the afternoon when I return to Emerald with my pickings.
Last Wednesday I bit off more than I could chew by trying to pick ahead for Friday's orders, the intent was to give me a bit of a break on Thursday to do some work for Pat and Mal. I know this is a bit long winded but I'm setting the scene for you. I was so busy picking heaps of cherry laurel at Steve's, then at Marjolain's, where I knew her next door neighbour had given permission to another bloke to pick the other side, and he was coming back soon to to do the top. So the competitive streak in me well and truly kicked in and I was going for the top hell for leather as far as I could reach from my side. Time got away on me and I realized after bunching it all at the farm that I didn't have time to get back to Gembrook to get my camellia at Keith's. It was nearly 3.00pm, I had not had lunch nor even stopped for a cup of tea since I left Gembrook in the morning, so was probably not thinking all that clearly, and I had to get to Cockatoo to pick green pitto and have it back to the farm by 5.00pm. And pick Gordy up at Belgrave at 5.30. Nobody should have to work like this, I said to myself.
I'll skip the camellia, I thought. No, I can get some good stuff just down Monbulk Rd. at Gail's where I hadn't picked for more than twelve months, but she had told me when I bumped into her in the street to go in and pick what I like any time. This I did and it was lovely rich dark green strong foliage just what 'Foxy' likes. I let 'Snowie' out for a walk while I picked and worked as quickly as I could, then loaded my camellia into the van and took off for Cockatoo, almost in a frenzy.
When I got to the end of Monbulk Rd. at the Emerald township and turned a little too fast I looked back to see if 'Snow' was OK. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I'd left her behind!
A sense of panic gripped me and I hurriedly turned around and tore back to Gail's. As I neared my eyes scoured the roadside for her then I spotted her running towards me right up the middle of the road with cars weaving around her. She had panicked of course at me tearing off and leaving her.
I was shaken, but hugely relieved to have found her before she was hit and killed. It gave me the fright of my life, and taught me a valuable lesson. SLOW DOWN YOU DICKHEAD. I nearly lost 'Snowie' and Lib and the boys would never have forgiven me.
We had a thunderstorm yesterday and it was lighter and warmer on my walk this morning. Spring is here, never mind we're still in July. Reading Jen's blog and the comments, it's been stinking hot in Nth. America, brutal is the word that keeps popping up. What do we have in store for us in the coming summer?
I went to Grace Delarues 90th birthday afternoon tea yesterday. Gracie's worth a blog entry one day when I have a bit of time.
Usually after dropping him off I might do a small job in Emerald and then go back to Gembrook to pick up my routine which revolves around what I have to pick in various places. I take Snowie with me for the ride these mornings, and leave her home in the afternoon when I return to Emerald with my pickings.
Last Wednesday I bit off more than I could chew by trying to pick ahead for Friday's orders, the intent was to give me a bit of a break on Thursday to do some work for Pat and Mal. I know this is a bit long winded but I'm setting the scene for you. I was so busy picking heaps of cherry laurel at Steve's, then at Marjolain's, where I knew her next door neighbour had given permission to another bloke to pick the other side, and he was coming back soon to to do the top. So the competitive streak in me well and truly kicked in and I was going for the top hell for leather as far as I could reach from my side. Time got away on me and I realized after bunching it all at the farm that I didn't have time to get back to Gembrook to get my camellia at Keith's. It was nearly 3.00pm, I had not had lunch nor even stopped for a cup of tea since I left Gembrook in the morning, so was probably not thinking all that clearly, and I had to get to Cockatoo to pick green pitto and have it back to the farm by 5.00pm. And pick Gordy up at Belgrave at 5.30. Nobody should have to work like this, I said to myself.
I'll skip the camellia, I thought. No, I can get some good stuff just down Monbulk Rd. at Gail's where I hadn't picked for more than twelve months, but she had told me when I bumped into her in the street to go in and pick what I like any time. This I did and it was lovely rich dark green strong foliage just what 'Foxy' likes. I let 'Snowie' out for a walk while I picked and worked as quickly as I could, then loaded my camellia into the van and took off for Cockatoo, almost in a frenzy.
When I got to the end of Monbulk Rd. at the Emerald township and turned a little too fast I looked back to see if 'Snow' was OK. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I'd left her behind!
A sense of panic gripped me and I hurriedly turned around and tore back to Gail's. As I neared my eyes scoured the roadside for her then I spotted her running towards me right up the middle of the road with cars weaving around her. She had panicked of course at me tearing off and leaving her.
I was shaken, but hugely relieved to have found her before she was hit and killed. It gave me the fright of my life, and taught me a valuable lesson. SLOW DOWN YOU DICKHEAD. I nearly lost 'Snowie' and Lib and the boys would never have forgiven me.
We had a thunderstorm yesterday and it was lighter and warmer on my walk this morning. Spring is here, never mind we're still in July. Reading Jen's blog and the comments, it's been stinking hot in Nth. America, brutal is the word that keeps popping up. What do we have in store for us in the coming summer?
I went to Grace Delarues 90th birthday afternoon tea yesterday. Gracie's worth a blog entry one day when I have a bit of time.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Pat and Mal
On my Friday morning walk I had a chat to Eileen J. I haven't seen Harry or the dentist's wife for ages. Maybe they are away. Eileen and her husband AJ owned the Gembrook hotel from the late 70's to the early 90's. I asked her about Noni Smith, as I knew they were friends. Noni died a few years ago. Nobody knew Noni had any children, so there was amazement when 7 sons turned up. No one knew either that Noni had been married to a wife bashing alcoholic in Melbourne and ran away, starting a new life at Gembrook and working for Doc Murphy in Emerald. Eileen didn't know. It was the solicitor who found the children she said.
I was so glad I was wearing my new glasses. The sunrise was magnificent, salmon pink clouds with lemon butter yellow whorled between. I could see so much better into the contrasting dark areas, seeing things I normally wouldn't, like smoke wisping slowly from chimney flues. A real treat. What is it they say about a pink sky meaning rain?
It rained last Saturday, 19 ml in total, and it was most welcome.I did a little bit of gardening between showers, and some wooding ( splitting wood to kindling and intermediate size for the week ahead), and listened to the footy.
Lib worked Sunday, I did an ox tail casserole and put it in the crockpot on the deck to cook all day on low, then after my walk started on a curry. I'd never done a curry before and I knew it was a bit different to a normal casserole, so the previous night while in the bath I rang Leo Buckley, who sowed the idea in my head for the curry the previous day when we were both buying the budget rump on market day special in the local supermarket. I followed his tips. While doing this my friend Rick arrived for a visit, crowing about his success so far, 5/5 to my 2/5, in our email footy tipping competition. It meant he'd caught me up in one swoop. He stayed for 2 or 3 hours. It was hard trying to remember Leo's instructions and concentrate on the curry with Rick yapping. We go back as friends to 1964 as twelve year olds at school. He's leaving in a few weeks for a holiday to Sweden where his wife has been working for three months and they are then going to the Greek Islands for a few weeks. What a life some people live! I have to say though, to Rick's credit, that he suggested I leave out the sultanas. He hates sultanas in curries and picks them out. When Lib got home I said I didn't put sultanas in and she said that was good because she doesn't like them in curry. I put the curry in the oven on low temp and Rick and I had a couple of small bets on Hobart race one, and Mornington race 2. We lost. ( I have an account with centrebet, mainly for the odd bet on the footy, you can bet as small as $1 on the computer, and watch the race on sattelite TV ) Rick left and I went to get a trailer load of horse manure for the garden from Len Ure who owns, trains and races trotting horses. He gathers all the manure from the paddocks into a big heap as this reduces worm infestation in the horses. The heap gets big and he's happy for me to make it smaller.
Everyone enjoyed the curry for tea the next night Monday. Monday to Wednesday were very busy picking days for me. As well as large amounts of cherry laurel and bay, finding daphne, pieris, japonica, hellaborus and early prunus have kept me running, which shows that spring is on us. There 18 ml more rain between Sunday night and Tuesday morning. Wednesday was bitterly cold, 4C after my walk and 7C when I got home at 5.30pm. I don't think the max. would have been much higher, and there was a vicious wind from the south east.
Thursday is my best day to to take a breather or catch up on things. Today I did a couple of hours gardening for Pat and Mal. Mal is a retired civil engineer (Scottish) with a passion for chrysanthemums and dahlias. He used to build skyscrapers in Singapore. He was head of Tarmac Int. far east section. His wife Pat is of Asian origin, very tall, well spoken and polite. Pat hasn't told me anything of her background, but another lady I have worked for who recommended me to Pat, said she was manager of the Hilton Hotel in Singapore or Hong Kong. Mal is doing a bit of part time work for his old company even though he's been retired for 5 years. They asked him to help out at a coal mine at Blackwater Qld. so he flies up every other week to Emerald Qld. then drives an hour and a half to Blackwater. Setting up the new plant is behind schedule and is costing the owners (BHP Billiton I think he said ) one million dollars every week it over runs. It will be a year behind by the time it is finished. Very little labour is employed. It's all computerised. One scoop of a big machine in seconds extracts more coal than a man would in a week. After crushing and grading by machines, the coal is loaded automatically by conveyors onto trains that take it to ships and then to China. Mal has a crook knee ( he was a paratrooper in the British army serving in Malaya and Thailand,) so they get me to help sometimes. Today I did 2.5 hours good solid work on a long handled spade digging over new garden beds.
Lyle is doing well, miraculously improving on last week, and his spirits are up. He's better at home and has picked up a bit as a result.
I was so glad I was wearing my new glasses. The sunrise was magnificent, salmon pink clouds with lemon butter yellow whorled between. I could see so much better into the contrasting dark areas, seeing things I normally wouldn't, like smoke wisping slowly from chimney flues. A real treat. What is it they say about a pink sky meaning rain?
It rained last Saturday, 19 ml in total, and it was most welcome.I did a little bit of gardening between showers, and some wooding ( splitting wood to kindling and intermediate size for the week ahead), and listened to the footy.
Lib worked Sunday, I did an ox tail casserole and put it in the crockpot on the deck to cook all day on low, then after my walk started on a curry. I'd never done a curry before and I knew it was a bit different to a normal casserole, so the previous night while in the bath I rang Leo Buckley, who sowed the idea in my head for the curry the previous day when we were both buying the budget rump on market day special in the local supermarket. I followed his tips. While doing this my friend Rick arrived for a visit, crowing about his success so far, 5/5 to my 2/5, in our email footy tipping competition. It meant he'd caught me up in one swoop. He stayed for 2 or 3 hours. It was hard trying to remember Leo's instructions and concentrate on the curry with Rick yapping. We go back as friends to 1964 as twelve year olds at school. He's leaving in a few weeks for a holiday to Sweden where his wife has been working for three months and they are then going to the Greek Islands for a few weeks. What a life some people live! I have to say though, to Rick's credit, that he suggested I leave out the sultanas. He hates sultanas in curries and picks them out. When Lib got home I said I didn't put sultanas in and she said that was good because she doesn't like them in curry. I put the curry in the oven on low temp and Rick and I had a couple of small bets on Hobart race one, and Mornington race 2. We lost. ( I have an account with centrebet, mainly for the odd bet on the footy, you can bet as small as $1 on the computer, and watch the race on sattelite TV ) Rick left and I went to get a trailer load of horse manure for the garden from Len Ure who owns, trains and races trotting horses. He gathers all the manure from the paddocks into a big heap as this reduces worm infestation in the horses. The heap gets big and he's happy for me to make it smaller.
Everyone enjoyed the curry for tea the next night Monday. Monday to Wednesday were very busy picking days for me. As well as large amounts of cherry laurel and bay, finding daphne, pieris, japonica, hellaborus and early prunus have kept me running, which shows that spring is on us. There 18 ml more rain between Sunday night and Tuesday morning. Wednesday was bitterly cold, 4C after my walk and 7C when I got home at 5.30pm. I don't think the max. would have been much higher, and there was a vicious wind from the south east.
Thursday is my best day to to take a breather or catch up on things. Today I did a couple of hours gardening for Pat and Mal. Mal is a retired civil engineer (Scottish) with a passion for chrysanthemums and dahlias. He used to build skyscrapers in Singapore. He was head of Tarmac Int. far east section. His wife Pat is of Asian origin, very tall, well spoken and polite. Pat hasn't told me anything of her background, but another lady I have worked for who recommended me to Pat, said she was manager of the Hilton Hotel in Singapore or Hong Kong. Mal is doing a bit of part time work for his old company even though he's been retired for 5 years. They asked him to help out at a coal mine at Blackwater Qld. so he flies up every other week to Emerald Qld. then drives an hour and a half to Blackwater. Setting up the new plant is behind schedule and is costing the owners (BHP Billiton I think he said ) one million dollars every week it over runs. It will be a year behind by the time it is finished. Very little labour is employed. It's all computerised. One scoop of a big machine in seconds extracts more coal than a man would in a week. After crushing and grading by machines, the coal is loaded automatically by conveyors onto trains that take it to ships and then to China. Mal has a crook knee ( he was a paratrooper in the British army serving in Malaya and Thailand,) so they get me to help sometimes. Today I did 2.5 hours good solid work on a long handled spade digging over new garden beds.
Lyle is doing well, miraculously improving on last week, and his spirits are up. He's better at home and has picked up a bit as a result.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Wind, Cold Snap
Monday 10 July
Ida's birthday! She turned 87. I haven't seen her since Boxing Day before last. She is in an aged care facility in Sale. She didn't know who I was. She has Alzheimer's. I first met her in 1995, in the local suppermarket when we started a conversation about footy. We became great friends, I called on her twice a week for years and we'd have coffee and a chat. She loved her garden and reading and sport, especially the Hawks, but also the tennis and swimming on TV. Me and the boys mowed her grass for years and I cut back her garden. Her daughter-in-law emails me now again and I'm good friends with her neice Glenda in Melbourne who keeps in touch. Her father George, Ida's brother, became a friend also. He tuns 90 this year and his family has asked me to write something for a book they are making for him for his birthday (people who have known George have been asked to write something about when they met him - a good idea!) Ida deteriorated quickly in the last stages, it was a difficult thing to see happen.
Happy birthday Ida.
The wind blew a gale all day and it was very cold.
Tues. 11 July
Gough Whitlam's 90th birthday! Who (of those old enough) could forget old Thunderface say on the steps of parliament house just after being 'sacked' as PM, "God well may save the Queen, because nothing will save the Governor General."
Happy birthday Gough. I didn't know it then but you were a great man. It was a date in Aust. history on which I think most people would remember where they were when they heard the news, it was so big at the time. I was in the Riverina NSW working an apiary on Paterson's Curse when I stopped to get a drink and turned on the truck radio. I jumped for joy.
I ask my friends to email me and tell me what they were doing when Gough was sacked.
My father Lyle came home from hospital this evening. They could not help him. He is not expected to live long. It is a difficult time for us, especially Elvie and Meredith who are nursing him.
Wednesday 12 July
The third very busy day in a row for me. Somehow Lyle's condition seems to have steeled my resolve and I found another gear. It was freezing cold and there were times my fingers felt like dropping off. As Lib went to work I asked her was there anything I could do to help her today. She said if I had time I could make a spaghetti sauce, which I did when I came in for lunch. I was flat out all day. Daphne is flowering and the customers are crying out for it. I'm picking a lot of laurel and camellia. While I was picking camellia at Keith's he told me a good joke but I don't have time to write it up. He is a funny man, he says the money I pay him for his camellia foliage is Viagra money.
Thursday 13 July
I've had a bit of time to regroup today, hence the blog entry. I was very happy to get an email from Punjab this morning, responding to my blog entry for him around the time of the winter solstice. It's very cold again, I just checked the thermometer, it's 10C. I'm about to have a bowl of Baxter's potato and leek soup for lunch ,yum, and some dark rye toast. I'll set the fire then go to Hueit's (he's away till mid August) to pick a few things and collect the eggs, then pick more laurel for 'Foxy' at Stiebolt's hedge on the Patch road then pick up Gordon at Belgrave at 5.30pm. It'll be nice to get home and watch the footy selections on satellite TV sitting by the fire with a few glasses of red.
Ida's birthday! She turned 87. I haven't seen her since Boxing Day before last. She is in an aged care facility in Sale. She didn't know who I was. She has Alzheimer's. I first met her in 1995, in the local suppermarket when we started a conversation about footy. We became great friends, I called on her twice a week for years and we'd have coffee and a chat. She loved her garden and reading and sport, especially the Hawks, but also the tennis and swimming on TV. Me and the boys mowed her grass for years and I cut back her garden. Her daughter-in-law emails me now again and I'm good friends with her neice Glenda in Melbourne who keeps in touch. Her father George, Ida's brother, became a friend also. He tuns 90 this year and his family has asked me to write something for a book they are making for him for his birthday (people who have known George have been asked to write something about when they met him - a good idea!) Ida deteriorated quickly in the last stages, it was a difficult thing to see happen.
Happy birthday Ida.
The wind blew a gale all day and it was very cold.
Tues. 11 July
Gough Whitlam's 90th birthday! Who (of those old enough) could forget old Thunderface say on the steps of parliament house just after being 'sacked' as PM, "God well may save the Queen, because nothing will save the Governor General."
Happy birthday Gough. I didn't know it then but you were a great man. It was a date in Aust. history on which I think most people would remember where they were when they heard the news, it was so big at the time. I was in the Riverina NSW working an apiary on Paterson's Curse when I stopped to get a drink and turned on the truck radio. I jumped for joy.
I ask my friends to email me and tell me what they were doing when Gough was sacked.
My father Lyle came home from hospital this evening. They could not help him. He is not expected to live long. It is a difficult time for us, especially Elvie and Meredith who are nursing him.
Wednesday 12 July
The third very busy day in a row for me. Somehow Lyle's condition seems to have steeled my resolve and I found another gear. It was freezing cold and there were times my fingers felt like dropping off. As Lib went to work I asked her was there anything I could do to help her today. She said if I had time I could make a spaghetti sauce, which I did when I came in for lunch. I was flat out all day. Daphne is flowering and the customers are crying out for it. I'm picking a lot of laurel and camellia. While I was picking camellia at Keith's he told me a good joke but I don't have time to write it up. He is a funny man, he says the money I pay him for his camellia foliage is Viagra money.
Thursday 13 July
I've had a bit of time to regroup today, hence the blog entry. I was very happy to get an email from Punjab this morning, responding to my blog entry for him around the time of the winter solstice. It's very cold again, I just checked the thermometer, it's 10C. I'm about to have a bowl of Baxter's potato and leek soup for lunch ,yum, and some dark rye toast. I'll set the fire then go to Hueit's (he's away till mid August) to pick a few things and collect the eggs, then pick more laurel for 'Foxy' at Stiebolt's hedge on the Patch road then pick up Gordon at Belgrave at 5.30pm. It'll be nice to get home and watch the footy selections on satellite TV sitting by the fire with a few glasses of red.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Two Ladies
As I worked in Emerald yesterday, I watched an old lady coming down the footpath towards me , slowly, and with a dog on a lead. My ladder was set up on the footpath and with pole cutters I was working above me cutting cherry laurel pieces from the hedge. They were falling onto the path. I descended the ladder and moved it and the cut foliage so as the old lady could pass without having to go around me, or worse, trip and fall.
As she reached me she thanked me and added that I needn't have stopped, she would have been happy to go around. She spoke with an Irish accent and I guessed she was over eighty years old, but she was well groomed and had an erect stance. Her white hair was neat and brushed and her whole face smiled, wide eyed. I liked her straight away.
I said, "No, the footpath is for people to walk on and it is up to me to make sure I don't create a hazard."
I added a gentle enquiry, "Are you of Irish origin?"
She replied that she was and told me that she came to Australia from Dublin in 1960. We had a short conversation. I learned that she and her husband had 5 children when they migrated and a sixth born in Australia. They lived at first in a migrant hostel in Altona. Her husband was a bricklayer and there was much building happening at the time and they would have been better off to stay in the hostel because it was cheap accomodation, but it was crowded and not the best place for their kids who were mixing with hordes of kids of many nationalities and getting up to mischief.
So after 3 months they moved to Cockatoo where they lived till 1983 when the bushfire burned their house, which was not insured. They also lost all their possessions. Her husband died in 1992 but three of her kids live close by. The others are spread around Australia but she sees them now and again. She has been back to Ireland twice since 1960 and said it is beautiful and is now a rich country. Everybody is at university she said.
She said her name was Breda (she spelled it for me) O'Gallaher, and asked me mine. She walks six km every day , which used to be 11km but she is slower and more careful now after having a fall not long ago. Walking and reading ensured she was never bored. She loved communicating with people and talked to as many as she could. Communication solved everything she said.
I asked was she Catholic and she said "Yes, I am. Are you?"
"No, I'm not, but some of my best friends are."
Breda then said, "It doesn't matter that your not Catholic. Even when we were in Ireland we had Protestant neighbours and Jewish. We all got along well, there was no problem. If someone needed help they were helped. I might have pointed to the Protestant church and said to the kids, " You don't go in there," but that was all."
I gave Breda a small pot of honey I had in my van (it was intended for Steve, whose hedge I was working) and thanked her for sharing a little of her story with me. She wanted to pay me for it and when I wouldn't accept the payment, saying it was a gift, she thanked me and said she hoped to bump into me again.
I felt good for the rest of the day. I had enjoyed meeting Breda.
The very next day I was again working the same hedge when Nadia came out of her gate and waved to me and slowly walked towards my van parked on the nature strip. Her little dog was in tow. I had dropped Robbie off at the bus in Emerald and needed a small amount of laurel to fill an order, and I had 'Snowy' in the van, standing on her box behind the driver's seat. I came down the ladder to say hello to Nadia who had spotted 'Snowy'. She said as she reached the van, "Bennjji", as she looked at 'Snowy' through the window.
I said, "No, that's 'Snowy'"
"I call them all 'Bennjji'", she said.
By this time her Bennjji and my Bennjji were touching noses and wagging tails at the open back of the van. Nadia smiled.
" How is your arm?" I asked. Some weeks ago while working in the same spot an ambulance had been outside Nadia's house and I saw her being wheeled out on a trolley and taken away. Then two weeks after that she came out with her arm in a sling and said that she had broken her upper arm in a fall and it was painfall and looked horrible. "Do you want to seee itt," she had said, her eyes half crazed, "Itt is bleeeeding."
"No, no," I quickly assured her, as I carried the box of old lettuces inside for her. Someone had left them at her gate for her ducks.
"The arm is a little better", she replied. "Much pain still. They are sending someone tomorrow to help me do exercise, to help it moove."
I've known Nadia for about fifteen years. I used to pick in her garden, an old garden esblished probably about 1930/40 and shared by dozens of Nadia's ducks. One day after watching me work thirty feet up a tree in pouring rain she told me she didn't want me coming anymore. If I fell out of the tree I would sue her, she said. I was happy not to come anyway, the more I got to know her the more she worried me and she was difficult to deal with, and, she was mistrusting or even paranoid. One of her ducks would die occassionally and she was convinced it was a neighbour sneaking in and killing them.
I did like her eccentricity. I remember describing her to my family as a seventy year old hippy. She wore colourful, loose fitting clothing that hung from her tall angular frame as did her tied back,long chestnut hair and extravagant necklaces. Her eyes held a wildness, gipsy-like would be a better description of her appearance than hippy.
She sometimes invited me in for a cup of herb tea and I accepted out of politeness, but I was never comfortable in her house. It was untidy and and crammed full of odd things and ornaments, like stuffed birds and medusa statues. Once she told me she grew up in Checkoslavakia and was 17 when the Germans came. They put her to work in a factory with other women and were not unkind to her. One soldier was very good to her. They told her how evil the Jews were. She believed the Jews were responsible for most of the trouble in the world, and was still fearful the Jews would come for her in the night. Then the Russians came. They were murdering pigs. My intuition suggested she had a German lover who was killed by the Russians. She also told me her daughter stole $10,000 from her and if she came near her she would 'keeel herr'. As she said this she waved around a ten inch kitchen knife menacingly, which left me in no doubt it was not an idle threat.
In the 1990's there were annual family picnic days held in Nobelius Park, I remember her wandering down with her 'Bennjji' after lunch, drawn by the music of the bushband. She won the the ladies nail driving competition easily, despite being decades older than her rivals. She could really handle a hammer.
Thinking of Breda yesterday and the honey, I reached into the van for the 500gm billy I again had for Steve, and offered it to Nadia, saying it will help her arm.
"I want to pay you for it," she said, "What is the price?"
Thinking quickly I said it was $2.
She looked at 'Snowy' and said, "Hee iss a terrible liar."
She went inside and came out with two $2 coins and put them in the van, then said, "I want to buy some more. Do you have more?"
I found a 1kg billy and she went inside again and came out with four $2 coins.
So Steve missed out again. I'll catch up with him next time.
As she reached me she thanked me and added that I needn't have stopped, she would have been happy to go around. She spoke with an Irish accent and I guessed she was over eighty years old, but she was well groomed and had an erect stance. Her white hair was neat and brushed and her whole face smiled, wide eyed. I liked her straight away.
I said, "No, the footpath is for people to walk on and it is up to me to make sure I don't create a hazard."
I added a gentle enquiry, "Are you of Irish origin?"
She replied that she was and told me that she came to Australia from Dublin in 1960. We had a short conversation. I learned that she and her husband had 5 children when they migrated and a sixth born in Australia. They lived at first in a migrant hostel in Altona. Her husband was a bricklayer and there was much building happening at the time and they would have been better off to stay in the hostel because it was cheap accomodation, but it was crowded and not the best place for their kids who were mixing with hordes of kids of many nationalities and getting up to mischief.
So after 3 months they moved to Cockatoo where they lived till 1983 when the bushfire burned their house, which was not insured. They also lost all their possessions. Her husband died in 1992 but three of her kids live close by. The others are spread around Australia but she sees them now and again. She has been back to Ireland twice since 1960 and said it is beautiful and is now a rich country. Everybody is at university she said.
She said her name was Breda (she spelled it for me) O'Gallaher, and asked me mine. She walks six km every day , which used to be 11km but she is slower and more careful now after having a fall not long ago. Walking and reading ensured she was never bored. She loved communicating with people and talked to as many as she could. Communication solved everything she said.
I asked was she Catholic and she said "Yes, I am. Are you?"
"No, I'm not, but some of my best friends are."
Breda then said, "It doesn't matter that your not Catholic. Even when we were in Ireland we had Protestant neighbours and Jewish. We all got along well, there was no problem. If someone needed help they were helped. I might have pointed to the Protestant church and said to the kids, " You don't go in there," but that was all."
I gave Breda a small pot of honey I had in my van (it was intended for Steve, whose hedge I was working) and thanked her for sharing a little of her story with me. She wanted to pay me for it and when I wouldn't accept the payment, saying it was a gift, she thanked me and said she hoped to bump into me again.
I felt good for the rest of the day. I had enjoyed meeting Breda.
The very next day I was again working the same hedge when Nadia came out of her gate and waved to me and slowly walked towards my van parked on the nature strip. Her little dog was in tow. I had dropped Robbie off at the bus in Emerald and needed a small amount of laurel to fill an order, and I had 'Snowy' in the van, standing on her box behind the driver's seat. I came down the ladder to say hello to Nadia who had spotted 'Snowy'. She said as she reached the van, "Bennjji", as she looked at 'Snowy' through the window.
I said, "No, that's 'Snowy'"
"I call them all 'Bennjji'", she said.
By this time her Bennjji and my Bennjji were touching noses and wagging tails at the open back of the van. Nadia smiled.
" How is your arm?" I asked. Some weeks ago while working in the same spot an ambulance had been outside Nadia's house and I saw her being wheeled out on a trolley and taken away. Then two weeks after that she came out with her arm in a sling and said that she had broken her upper arm in a fall and it was painfall and looked horrible. "Do you want to seee itt," she had said, her eyes half crazed, "Itt is bleeeeding."
"No, no," I quickly assured her, as I carried the box of old lettuces inside for her. Someone had left them at her gate for her ducks.
"The arm is a little better", she replied. "Much pain still. They are sending someone tomorrow to help me do exercise, to help it moove."
I've known Nadia for about fifteen years. I used to pick in her garden, an old garden esblished probably about 1930/40 and shared by dozens of Nadia's ducks. One day after watching me work thirty feet up a tree in pouring rain she told me she didn't want me coming anymore. If I fell out of the tree I would sue her, she said. I was happy not to come anyway, the more I got to know her the more she worried me and she was difficult to deal with, and, she was mistrusting or even paranoid. One of her ducks would die occassionally and she was convinced it was a neighbour sneaking in and killing them.
I did like her eccentricity. I remember describing her to my family as a seventy year old hippy. She wore colourful, loose fitting clothing that hung from her tall angular frame as did her tied back,long chestnut hair and extravagant necklaces. Her eyes held a wildness, gipsy-like would be a better description of her appearance than hippy.
She sometimes invited me in for a cup of herb tea and I accepted out of politeness, but I was never comfortable in her house. It was untidy and and crammed full of odd things and ornaments, like stuffed birds and medusa statues. Once she told me she grew up in Checkoslavakia and was 17 when the Germans came. They put her to work in a factory with other women and were not unkind to her. One soldier was very good to her. They told her how evil the Jews were. She believed the Jews were responsible for most of the trouble in the world, and was still fearful the Jews would come for her in the night. Then the Russians came. They were murdering pigs. My intuition suggested she had a German lover who was killed by the Russians. She also told me her daughter stole $10,000 from her and if she came near her she would 'keeel herr'. As she said this she waved around a ten inch kitchen knife menacingly, which left me in no doubt it was not an idle threat.
In the 1990's there were annual family picnic days held in Nobelius Park, I remember her wandering down with her 'Bennjji' after lunch, drawn by the music of the bushband. She won the the ladies nail driving competition easily, despite being decades older than her rivals. She could really handle a hammer.
Thinking of Breda yesterday and the honey, I reached into the van for the 500gm billy I again had for Steve, and offered it to Nadia, saying it will help her arm.
"I want to pay you for it," she said, "What is the price?"
Thinking quickly I said it was $2.
She looked at 'Snowy' and said, "Hee iss a terrible liar."
She went inside and came out with two $2 coins and put them in the van, then said, "I want to buy some more. Do you have more?"
I found a 1kg billy and she went inside again and came out with four $2 coins.
So Steve missed out again. I'll catch up with him next time.
Good News, Bad News
Lleyton got beaten in the Wimbledon quarter finals overnight. HOORAY!
Sadly, for me, much of the news of the week has been politics. A lot of whoohah over the Government's IR laws. The Labour Party won a newspoll, they would have won an election if one was held last week, on the the strength of their stance against the Howard gov'ts IR laws.
Well, that leaves me totally stuffed. I'm dismayed, I loathe the Howard gov't and probably would have voted labour next time, but it looks like the next election will be fought on this issue, and the new IR laws are the only good thing the Gov't has done. I have always believed that an employer and employee should be able to make whatever arrangements they like without interference. Looks like I will remain in a political vaccuum. I agree with most of what Bob Brown says but he isn't going to be elected (PM), so he can say anything, which the others can't. But it looks like I'm a 'Green' again.
Sadly, for me, much of the news of the week has been politics. A lot of whoohah over the Government's IR laws. The Labour Party won a newspoll, they would have won an election if one was held last week, on the the strength of their stance against the Howard gov'ts IR laws.
Well, that leaves me totally stuffed. I'm dismayed, I loathe the Howard gov't and probably would have voted labour next time, but it looks like the next election will be fought on this issue, and the new IR laws are the only good thing the Gov't has done. I have always believed that an employer and employee should be able to make whatever arrangements they like without interference. Looks like I will remain in a political vaccuum. I agree with most of what Bob Brown says but he isn't going to be elected (PM), so he can say anything, which the others can't. But it looks like I'm a 'Green' again.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Beware of Dogs
Some weeks ago I bumped into a friend, Anita, who asked me to bring some empty bags to her place so she could rake up her autumn leaves and bag them for me. She does this every year and we are happy to have them as mulch. It slipped my mind for a while but one day I remembered and took round a big stack of bags. Oddly the big steel gates were closed which I had never encountered previously so I parked outside and carried the bags to where I leave them at the front door about 50 metres along the concrete drive.
About half way back to the gate I heard this roaring, whooshing, pounding sound behind me and turned my head back to see what the hell it was. It was the biggest rottwieler I have ever seen, it looked like a bull, in full charge, at me, thundering up the driveway from the other side of the house. I took a quick look at the gate but didn't think I'd make it if I took flight and would be brought down by this monster and probably have my throat ripped out.
So I turned to face the beast, not out of bravery, but thinking it was my best chance of survival. I reckon I was giving away about 20 kilos to it. Seeing me turn the dog slowed as if to reassess me and thankfully at that moment Anita's husband Garry, who'd heard the barking and snarling, was shouting to call it off. As it turned to him I moved towards the gate steadily and got out very shaky as it ran back. He tied the dog up as I yelled, "Jesus Gary, where did you get that bloody thing."
He came up and explained it was his daughter's dog and she was living with them while building a house. He was amazed I got all the way to the house and nearly back before it saw me. He said it was extremely savage at anything coming in the gate and it's name was 'Dozer', and not because it liked sleeping. I now realized that Anita had told me about Dozer and said I should leave the bags outside the gate, but I had forgotten.
Last Monday morning my phone rang and it was Mal B ringing to tell me there were several things in his garden that needed cutting back, things that I had cut before, about two years apart, and I was most welcome to come and pick there. I said I would call in that afternoon to have a look. He said they were going out but I could go there whenever I wanted as I knew my way around, but they had installed an automatic gate that was a bit tricky. There was a post in front, attached to the gate, that was a trigger to make the gate open, and if I gave it whack with my hand the gate would open and stay open long enough for me to get my van through. He said it was designed to work with a nudge from a car, but don't do that as it rocketed open too quickly. Sounded simple.
There were two dogs on the other side of the gate when I got there, barking and snarling, but the dogs were nothing like Dozer's formidable size, and were there two years earlier and didn't attack me so I thought once I'm in in they would be OK. So I whacked the post and the gate started to open slowly but this infuriated the dogs, who went berserk and started leaping at the other side of the gate. This had the effect on the gate of making it come back to closed, as there was another trigger post on the inside to make it go the other way.
I tried several times but the dogs could see they were winning and became more aggressive, so I gave it away, thinking I'll have to make other arrangements when Mal or Michelle are home.
But I needed some bay leaves as I had arranged my day around picking some at Mal's, so I thought for a minute and remembered Nigel's bay trees. When I got to Nigel's there was a sign on the gate, which had not been there before in the ten years I've been picking in his garden. You guessed it, "BEWARE OF THE DOG".
I looked around and couldn't see a dog, and I rattled the gate to make a dog hear if one was around. I was a bit toey after the fright I had with 'Dozer', but Nigel was the last person to have a savage dog I thought, so in I went up to the front door and knocked. Nigel, whom I hadn't seen for six months, opened the door to my relief and pointed to the trees with one hand while nodding and holding the phone in the other hand and talking.
Later he came out while I was picking and explained that he had been talking to his accountant when I came to the door. I asked him about the sign on the gate and he explained that his friend 'Pink' put that there while she was house minding for him recently. Nigel, in the years I have been picking in his garden, usually three or four times each winter, has been a retired rock star, a member of the successful band 'Split Enz', who loves a quiet life away from the spotlight and working in his garden. The band have just done a two week reunion tour of Australian capital cities which took 6 months to organize and was a huge success. The day Pink moved in she put the sign on the gate and one of her dogs died that night. Out of the blue, just died on the couch. Then the other one was put down the day Nigel came back, after suddenly becoming paralysed in the hind quarters a few days after the other one died, and after much veterinary expense failed to bring recovery. Pink was distraught and forgot to take the sign down, and Nigel said he had been in a daze since the end of the tour.
One thing for sure. I will take no liberties with dogs. 'Dozer' made sure of that.
About half way back to the gate I heard this roaring, whooshing, pounding sound behind me and turned my head back to see what the hell it was. It was the biggest rottwieler I have ever seen, it looked like a bull, in full charge, at me, thundering up the driveway from the other side of the house. I took a quick look at the gate but didn't think I'd make it if I took flight and would be brought down by this monster and probably have my throat ripped out.
So I turned to face the beast, not out of bravery, but thinking it was my best chance of survival. I reckon I was giving away about 20 kilos to it. Seeing me turn the dog slowed as if to reassess me and thankfully at that moment Anita's husband Garry, who'd heard the barking and snarling, was shouting to call it off. As it turned to him I moved towards the gate steadily and got out very shaky as it ran back. He tied the dog up as I yelled, "Jesus Gary, where did you get that bloody thing."
He came up and explained it was his daughter's dog and she was living with them while building a house. He was amazed I got all the way to the house and nearly back before it saw me. He said it was extremely savage at anything coming in the gate and it's name was 'Dozer', and not because it liked sleeping. I now realized that Anita had told me about Dozer and said I should leave the bags outside the gate, but I had forgotten.
Last Monday morning my phone rang and it was Mal B ringing to tell me there were several things in his garden that needed cutting back, things that I had cut before, about two years apart, and I was most welcome to come and pick there. I said I would call in that afternoon to have a look. He said they were going out but I could go there whenever I wanted as I knew my way around, but they had installed an automatic gate that was a bit tricky. There was a post in front, attached to the gate, that was a trigger to make the gate open, and if I gave it whack with my hand the gate would open and stay open long enough for me to get my van through. He said it was designed to work with a nudge from a car, but don't do that as it rocketed open too quickly. Sounded simple.
There were two dogs on the other side of the gate when I got there, barking and snarling, but the dogs were nothing like Dozer's formidable size, and were there two years earlier and didn't attack me so I thought once I'm in in they would be OK. So I whacked the post and the gate started to open slowly but this infuriated the dogs, who went berserk and started leaping at the other side of the gate. This had the effect on the gate of making it come back to closed, as there was another trigger post on the inside to make it go the other way.
I tried several times but the dogs could see they were winning and became more aggressive, so I gave it away, thinking I'll have to make other arrangements when Mal or Michelle are home.
But I needed some bay leaves as I had arranged my day around picking some at Mal's, so I thought for a minute and remembered Nigel's bay trees. When I got to Nigel's there was a sign on the gate, which had not been there before in the ten years I've been picking in his garden. You guessed it, "BEWARE OF THE DOG".
I looked around and couldn't see a dog, and I rattled the gate to make a dog hear if one was around. I was a bit toey after the fright I had with 'Dozer', but Nigel was the last person to have a savage dog I thought, so in I went up to the front door and knocked. Nigel, whom I hadn't seen for six months, opened the door to my relief and pointed to the trees with one hand while nodding and holding the phone in the other hand and talking.
Later he came out while I was picking and explained that he had been talking to his accountant when I came to the door. I asked him about the sign on the gate and he explained that his friend 'Pink' put that there while she was house minding for him recently. Nigel, in the years I have been picking in his garden, usually three or four times each winter, has been a retired rock star, a member of the successful band 'Split Enz', who loves a quiet life away from the spotlight and working in his garden. The band have just done a two week reunion tour of Australian capital cities which took 6 months to organize and was a huge success. The day Pink moved in she put the sign on the gate and one of her dogs died that night. Out of the blue, just died on the couch. Then the other one was put down the day Nigel came back, after suddenly becoming paralysed in the hind quarters a few days after the other one died, and after much veterinary expense failed to bring recovery. Pink was distraught and forgot to take the sign down, and Nigel said he had been in a daze since the end of the tour.
One thing for sure. I will take no liberties with dogs. 'Dozer' made sure of that.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Last Week of 05/06
It seems tidy that 30 Jun is Friday. I am pleased with myself today, for two reasons that immediately come to mind.
1. Our family business has survived another year. No mean feat.
2. Since I started walking early each morning at the beginning of January I have missed only two days. That adds to 179 times 4km = 716km, about Melbourne to Goulburn NSW I reckon.
It was an unusual week, and still has most of today to run. I don't have time to say much because I have a long list of things to do before an optometrist appointment at 1pm at Fountain Gate. More later.
Guess what happened. I got stuck behind a slow truck, got lost in a new estate with lots of roundabouts and circular roads (and lots of bollards preventing anything but going round in circles, talk about 'gone loopy') then parked at the wrong end of the mall and took ages to find the optometrist. I was 15 minutes late for my appointment so they wouldn't do me, saying there was not enough time before their next appt. at 1.30pm.
With disgust I bolted out of Fountain Gate shopping centre quickly, vowing never to step foot there again, and drove to the small mall at Endeavour Hills where I knew I could get a good feed of Turkish food at 'Ali Baba', and where I wanted to buy new socks and underwear for me and the boys at the 'Best and Less'. I go there once a year. (The optometrist used to be there). 'Ali Baba' had closed down and was boarded up with a big sign pronouncing 'watch this space'. So I bought some curried chicken from the Chinee next door which was lukewarm utter crap that made me feel sick two minutes after eating it. On the way out after my shopping I bought a Tattslotto ticket thinking there had to some reason for all this.
Back in Emerald I found the new optometrist and made an appt. for an eye test next week, which I should have done in the first place and ignored the letter from the one at Fountain Gate offering 50% off new glasses. When I arrived at the farm my mum seemed a little upset and began to tell me about it. Thankfully she put the kettle on and we had a cup of tea which I needed desperately.
About ten minutes before my arrival an ambulance had left taking my father Lyle to hospital. He had been crook for weeks, kidneys struggling, and had endured some horrible medication directed by a specialist to overcome excruciating pain in his hands. The pain went but he was feeling terrible, and had no appetite or energy and was basically lying down all day wasting away. Very hard on everybody, especially Elvie (Mum) and my sister Meredith who had been caring for him. They felt he was no longer well enough to go to the doctor so they arranged for the doctor to do a home visit on Thursday. Doctor was busy and couldn't make it and was then coming Friday, but after lunch Elvie rang the ambulance to have him taken to hospital so they could get to the bottom of it. He takes a large amount of prescribed medication and she felt something was wrong and it needed adjustment or the poor bugger would die of starvation or depression in a matter of days.
I had some end of financial year stuff to do (including having to buy the new version of book keeping software fom my accountant, at a cost of $250, so that what I give him at the end of next year can be read on his computer - we are up to version 6 since GST started in 2001). I was leaving at 6pm. when the phone rang. It was Dandenong hospital. The doctor was ringing to say that it seemed Lyle had had a heart attack some days ago which explained his debilitation. This doctor at the hospital knew dad because a very similar thing happened late last year but that time there was chest pain and the whole thing a little more straight forward.
At least he's in the right place now. The time will be out on this post, as I saved the early entry and came back to it. I'll have to work that out better.
1. Our family business has survived another year. No mean feat.
2. Since I started walking early each morning at the beginning of January I have missed only two days. That adds to 179 times 4km = 716km, about Melbourne to Goulburn NSW I reckon.
It was an unusual week, and still has most of today to run. I don't have time to say much because I have a long list of things to do before an optometrist appointment at 1pm at Fountain Gate. More later.
Guess what happened. I got stuck behind a slow truck, got lost in a new estate with lots of roundabouts and circular roads (and lots of bollards preventing anything but going round in circles, talk about 'gone loopy') then parked at the wrong end of the mall and took ages to find the optometrist. I was 15 minutes late for my appointment so they wouldn't do me, saying there was not enough time before their next appt. at 1.30pm.
With disgust I bolted out of Fountain Gate shopping centre quickly, vowing never to step foot there again, and drove to the small mall at Endeavour Hills where I knew I could get a good feed of Turkish food at 'Ali Baba', and where I wanted to buy new socks and underwear for me and the boys at the 'Best and Less'. I go there once a year. (The optometrist used to be there). 'Ali Baba' had closed down and was boarded up with a big sign pronouncing 'watch this space'. So I bought some curried chicken from the Chinee next door which was lukewarm utter crap that made me feel sick two minutes after eating it. On the way out after my shopping I bought a Tattslotto ticket thinking there had to some reason for all this.
Back in Emerald I found the new optometrist and made an appt. for an eye test next week, which I should have done in the first place and ignored the letter from the one at Fountain Gate offering 50% off new glasses. When I arrived at the farm my mum seemed a little upset and began to tell me about it. Thankfully she put the kettle on and we had a cup of tea which I needed desperately.
About ten minutes before my arrival an ambulance had left taking my father Lyle to hospital. He had been crook for weeks, kidneys struggling, and had endured some horrible medication directed by a specialist to overcome excruciating pain in his hands. The pain went but he was feeling terrible, and had no appetite or energy and was basically lying down all day wasting away. Very hard on everybody, especially Elvie (Mum) and my sister Meredith who had been caring for him. They felt he was no longer well enough to go to the doctor so they arranged for the doctor to do a home visit on Thursday. Doctor was busy and couldn't make it and was then coming Friday, but after lunch Elvie rang the ambulance to have him taken to hospital so they could get to the bottom of it. He takes a large amount of prescribed medication and she felt something was wrong and it needed adjustment or the poor bugger would die of starvation or depression in a matter of days.
I had some end of financial year stuff to do (including having to buy the new version of book keeping software fom my accountant, at a cost of $250, so that what I give him at the end of next year can be read on his computer - we are up to version 6 since GST started in 2001). I was leaving at 6pm. when the phone rang. It was Dandenong hospital. The doctor was ringing to say that it seemed Lyle had had a heart attack some days ago which explained his debilitation. This doctor at the hospital knew dad because a very similar thing happened late last year but that time there was chest pain and the whole thing a little more straight forward.
At least he's in the right place now. The time will be out on this post, as I saved the early entry and came back to it. I'll have to work that out better.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Sunday Market
On my walk this morning the stall holders were setting up for the monthly market held in the Puffing Billy station. It didn't open till 9am so I decided to come back later and maybe buy some some vegies. So I went back home and took Lib breakfast in bed ( OJ, bowl of fruit- cantelope, mandarin, kiwi fruit and passionfruit, and followed by toasted fruit muffin and peppermint tea.) I put the washing on and did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen, tasks I actually enjoy on the weekend, and then cleaned the filters on the reverse cycle air conditioner which has been working hard on these cold mornings.
Back at the market later having this time driven up, I bought a pumpkin for $1 and a kilo of brown onions and a tub of fetta cheese, thinking Lib might like the cheese with her lunch at work next week. They went in one enviro bag and 3 sausages and onions in bread from the RSL stall went in another, carefully placed so as not to spill out, not so easily done while I also had 'Snowy' on the lead. Lib and I shared the sausages for lunch, the boys still in bed.
I met a friend at the market and made an appointment to go to his house Tuesday morning to see what he wants me to do while he is going away for 6 weeks soon travelling to Alice Springs. I look after his chickens and plants when he goes away which I'm happy to do because it keeps us in eggs and I pick foliage etc. in the garden.
Late afternoon Lib's friend Raelene rang and asked us around for a bowl of whatever's going for dinner and a glass or two of red, but Lib declined. We had thawed a lump of bladebone steak and done the vegies for Sunday roast and were about to light the fire and going out on a cold Sunday night seemed to much of an effort. We had planned to go to Lakes Entrance for the weekend but changed our mind on Friday when the weather seemed so bleak. This has been the coldest winter for two decades and Lib hates the cold and doesn't like going anywhere when the weather's bad, I call it the 'winter blues'.
I started this entry early and saved it as a draft to finish later so the time will be out of wack, I think.
Back at the market later having this time driven up, I bought a pumpkin for $1 and a kilo of brown onions and a tub of fetta cheese, thinking Lib might like the cheese with her lunch at work next week. They went in one enviro bag and 3 sausages and onions in bread from the RSL stall went in another, carefully placed so as not to spill out, not so easily done while I also had 'Snowy' on the lead. Lib and I shared the sausages for lunch, the boys still in bed.
I met a friend at the market and made an appointment to go to his house Tuesday morning to see what he wants me to do while he is going away for 6 weeks soon travelling to Alice Springs. I look after his chickens and plants when he goes away which I'm happy to do because it keeps us in eggs and I pick foliage etc. in the garden.
Late afternoon Lib's friend Raelene rang and asked us around for a bowl of whatever's going for dinner and a glass or two of red, but Lib declined. We had thawed a lump of bladebone steak and done the vegies for Sunday roast and were about to light the fire and going out on a cold Sunday night seemed to much of an effort. We had planned to go to Lakes Entrance for the weekend but changed our mind on Friday when the weather seemed so bleak. This has been the coldest winter for two decades and Lib hates the cold and doesn't like going anywhere when the weather's bad, I call it the 'winter blues'.
I started this entry early and saved it as a draft to finish later so the time will be out of wack, I think.
Friday, June 23, 2006
2,4,6,8.....9
Each day this week after my early walk, I've noted the temperature on the thermometer at our back door. It is digital and also records daily max and min and humidity. Monday it was 2C, Tuesday 4C, Wednesday 6C, Thursday 8C. That would make you think it was going to rain and it did last night, but only 6ml. I was hoping for more, we've had very little rain for some weeks after a wet April.
It was 9C this morning. The rain had stopped. My walk was good as usual. I met three people and Glenda in the Post Office. All talked about the world cup football, Australia had just drawn 2 all with Croatia to go through to the second round. I watched the end of the match before going out.
Harry was one of the people I met. I asked him what was his name originally in Germany, thinking Harry was an English adaptation. (I have another Gembrook friend called Harry, born in Friesland northern Holland in 1935 who came to Australia to work on the Snowy Mtn. scheme in the 1950's. He confided to me once that Harry was not his real name, it was Huisse or something similar but he used Harry since coming to Australia.) Harry said it was actually Harry, it is a German name, and not short for Harold, which is also a German name. They are separate names in German.
I thought more about the missing wasp queens. It was a poor season for bees here and the nectar producing trees were 'off' in their cycle, as I said. But also with March so hot and dry then suddenly April wet and cold I think the wasps were caught unawares, like we were, with no time to do our usual autumn preparations for winter. I can't see the population of European wasps building up to be much of a problem next summer/autumn. I'll be watching. And for the sparrows.
It was 9C this morning. The rain had stopped. My walk was good as usual. I met three people and Glenda in the Post Office. All talked about the world cup football, Australia had just drawn 2 all with Croatia to go through to the second round. I watched the end of the match before going out.
Harry was one of the people I met. I asked him what was his name originally in Germany, thinking Harry was an English adaptation. (I have another Gembrook friend called Harry, born in Friesland northern Holland in 1935 who came to Australia to work on the Snowy Mtn. scheme in the 1950's. He confided to me once that Harry was not his real name, it was Huisse or something similar but he used Harry since coming to Australia.) Harry said it was actually Harry, it is a German name, and not short for Harold, which is also a German name. They are separate names in German.
I thought more about the missing wasp queens. It was a poor season for bees here and the nectar producing trees were 'off' in their cycle, as I said. But also with March so hot and dry then suddenly April wet and cold I think the wasps were caught unawares, like we were, with no time to do our usual autumn preparations for winter. I can't see the population of European wasps building up to be much of a problem next summer/autumn. I'll be watching. And for the sparrows.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Sparrows and Wasps
I haven't seen a sparrow at home for months. Not that I miss them, I can't stand the little beggars. But we have had masses of them for years, pooping on our deck and nesting everywhere. Now, none. I was doing a job in the the garden for Pat on the other side of town a while ago and when I mentioned it to her husband Mal he said the same was the case there, now that I had mentioned it.
Also, I have not had one European wasp queen come in the house with the firewood this winter. Other years on most armfulls of wood there is one or more of them, which are hibernating, and they come 'alive' when warm temps inside thaw them. None this year. There were very few flying outside in the late summer and autumn come to think of it, which is usually their peak time. And I only had to poison one nest in the garden last summer, normally it is several.
It must have been a lousy year for wasps, which fits, because it was a lousy year for bees, I didn't extract any honey as there was no surplus,I had to leave what the bees had on them to overwinter them. And it was extremely dry in late summer and March. Hot too. Maybe the sparrows died off. Must have. They are a species introduced from England and I've heard they can die off in the heat.
But I'll bet there will be some breeding in spring somewhere not far away and they'll soon be back.
Also, I have not had one European wasp queen come in the house with the firewood this winter. Other years on most armfulls of wood there is one or more of them, which are hibernating, and they come 'alive' when warm temps inside thaw them. None this year. There were very few flying outside in the late summer and autumn come to think of it, which is usually their peak time. And I only had to poison one nest in the garden last summer, normally it is several.
It must have been a lousy year for wasps, which fits, because it was a lousy year for bees, I didn't extract any honey as there was no surplus,I had to leave what the bees had on them to overwinter them. And it was extremely dry in late summer and March. Hot too. Maybe the sparrows died off. Must have. They are a species introduced from England and I've heard they can die off in the heat.
But I'll bet there will be some breeding in spring somewhere not far away and they'll soon be back.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)