The Harvest

We don't produce anything much on our farm as yet (stray bunnies, blue tongues and ducks excepted). But we do get a good crop of hay. Good hay.

Normally, the harvest is in by mid December, but this year, due to glorious rain, the raking and baling is being done as we speak. The truck arrives with a loading arm, and a helping hand called Mitch. I jump behind the wheel and stare back at the loading arm. We've never had anything this civilised. "Just drive slowly forwards so that the loader can pick up the bales", Mitch gives me a friendly wave, then he jumps onto the moving truck. The loading arm is fantastic. It scoots alongside of the truck, and scoops up bale after bale. Mitch and Pete stack the bales on the truck. Boof boof. Oops, I think I just drove over one. Oh well.

When the truck is full, the loading arm gets detached and we drive the truck to the shed. Unloading time. I get into the fun, games, dust and sinking between hay bales of stacking the hay in the shed. Not to mention the tired hands, heavy lifting and severely scratched legs. Sneezing abounds. Mitch looks like he may have done this before. I swear that next year I will wear jeans.

With 100 bales per truck, our share in done in three truck fulls. We load up the forth truck, and Mitch drives it down to Bob's. I go in the house and start preparing dinner. I see the truck arrive, and the collection goes on. I feel somewhat excluded. What was that about the "farmer's wife"? Or was it "women on farms"? Whatever, I wave my hand.

The last truck load is comleted in late dusk. 652 blales. 648 put away, 1 driven over, 2 burst while loading, and 1 too crooked to load. A harvest this easy I have never done.

(2007, 580 bales. Pete and I collected the lot. Just Pete, just the truck, just me. Took us 8 hours, we finished at 3am. The next day we ate all the eggs and meat in the fridge, in an attempt to recover).

(2006, 248 bales. Pete and I collected the lot. Just Pete, just the truck, just me. Took 5 hours, finished at 2am. We recovered two days later).

Gone Paddling

The day dawns with a totally different feel to yesterday. The rain pitter patters on the roof, and passing showers drum out the hum of the generator. As we get dressed, as we eat breakfast, as we pack the cars and wash the dishes there is an unmistakable undercurrent in conversations. In every sentence, every word, there is a whisper of anticipation. Did the rain cause the river to rise? By how much? Will the gorge be "rocking"? Will the intricate patterns of the dislocation and graveyard rapids turn into wild flushing playgrounds?

On the way to the put in, Sabina sizes up Russell's van. "Mama, Russell doesn't have a house", she says. "He's got a car house".

The boys prepare to put in at the Bundarra river bridge. The water is certainly moving right along. I find a stick and throw it in, trying to show Sabina where Papa will paddle, and how fast he will be out of sight. The stick is too small and we lose sight of it in the first wave. I throw a bigger stick. Sabina watches it float down in silence.

We turn back to watch the paddling preparations and I explain the equipment to Sabina. "Cag to keep dry, deck to keep water out of the boat, vest to float, helmet". She's fascinated by the vest. So many buckles and fasteners, so many trinkets to play with. The boys show her that there's even a whistle.

Papa puts in, and Sabina insists on sitting in the boat with him. She has visions of sitting between his legs, while he paddles into the middle of the river. Pete and I look at each other, and Sabina quickly ends up back on the bank despite the protests. Papa paddles out, and surfs the nearby wave. The wave washes over the front of his boat. Over his deck. Sabina is speechless.
The boys look at us, wave, and float gracefully down the river. Within seconds they are out of sight.

The next group of paddlers arrive. Peak hour traffic! We look at them playing in the wave. "When I am like Papa, I will have a purple boat", anounces Sabina, "And I'll have a blue boat". "Why do you need two boats?" I ask. "For when one gets dirty". Of course. We watch the paddlers float down the river. Suddenly a wave of longing grips me and I jump up and down on the spot "I want to go paddling, I want to go paddling". Sabina holds my hand like a loving parent. The rain starts in earnest. "But where's Papa?" quizzes Sabina. I open my mouth to reply, change my mind, and just smile.

We jump in the car. We wave a farewell at the Blue Duck as we drive by, then we're back on the winding road to Omeo. Memories of Winter Classics return to me once more. The Mr Men team - we won our division that day. But out of a team of eight only two turned up to the presentation. They got up on the podium and hung a sign "Gone paddling".

On the last downhill before Omeo I stop by the side of the road and point out the skewbald horse in the paddock. "There Sabina. Isn't that Rain?". She looks on carefully. "Yes Mama, that's Rain. Hello Rain! Hello Rain!", she waves madly through the window. Rain looks at us, then returns to her mid-morning snooze.

We hang out together in Omeo for a while. Cappucino for me, babycino for Sabina. Rain stops and sun shines brightly. Art gallery, a visit to the playground, a walk in the park, where Sabina skips and runs carefree along the path singing praises. Then we drive back to Hinnomunjie bridge to pick up the boys.

I stiffen when I see that they are already there and out of the water. Late again. But they greet us with joy and laughter, and dive into the esky for a can of Bourbon and cola. "We've been here for an hour" they chid. I stutter. They look at me half with pity, half with the zest of life. "It rocked", I hear.

While I make tuna dip, the kaleidoscope of colour that is paddling equipment, is packed away. The only colours that remain are Russell in his cycling gear, and the green green grass on the banks of the Mitta. We give Russell a warm farewell, and he cycles off to pick up his van. We glance back at the take out one more time, and we too are on our way.

The Blue Duck

Papa has gone to Omeo to paddle the Mitta Mitta gorge. We depart the farm, with the aim of joining him for dinner. It's a beautiful, sunny day, and we enjoy the drive through the Latrobe valley. I point out the old locomotive in Trafalgar and the tall smoking chimneys of Morwell. Sabina marvels at the train line, which runs alongside the freeway for most of the way.

At Sale we do a stop to watch the TTT Showjumping. Sabina has to pat every horse, and every dog, and she has to drink the obligatory iced chocolate. Then we're off to Bairnsdale. Sale, Bairnsdale, only half an hour between them, right? Only if you're travelling at a 130km/h. Sheesh! I look at the clock. We're running late.

At precisely 4:18pm we leave the Bairnsdale Shell and head for Omeo. Surely, it's just an hour to Omeo, right? Wrong! I pass the "OM 110" sign, and shift in my seat. "Sh ... sh ... sugar", I breathe, "we no longer have to make it to the 5pm pick up at Hinnomunjie, but at this rate, we won't even be at the Bluck Duck at 6!" I step on it, and overtake the truck. Sabina is asking a 1000 questions; I watch for forgotten turn off signs.

The road dips, I indicate and accelerate. "Mama, not so fast! I don't want to go fast! Mama!". I choose deafness and overtake four cars in one shot. Bruthen lies peacefully ahead. Sabina calms down and returns to the 1000 questions. "Sabina, Mama can't answer your questions right now. I'm looking for a turn off". Sabina's questions become louder in protest. The quiet town is littered with too many tourist friendly signs. Buchan caves this way, snow fields that way, caves this way, snow fields ... I take the turn off. Within metres we're in the quiet of the Australian bush at sunset.

I overtake the pancake house car with trailer, and keep eating the kilometres. It's been a while since I've driven a winding road at speed and the first few corners catch me out. "Wheee!" I say to Sabina. "Wheee!". I re-group on the straight, and take the next turn with a bit more professionalism. Our car is automatic, but I use the gears regardless. Third, second, third, drive. "Oh look Sabina, Mulocky Creek". Third, drive, third. "And here, Bulocky Creek", I point out every sign, every feature, everything except the speed. Drive, third, second, third, second, third, drive.

We hit the Tambo, and the road straightens. I pass the white Subaru. "Zilber car, Mama. Zilber", Sabina corrects me. Then we slow down for Ensay. The sun is edging lower and in addition to changing gears, I keep changing the position of my sun visor. Down, up, down. Use the hand to block out the sun. Then third, second, third, drive. We drive. Oh, boy, do we drive. I pass another car and think "you're being passed by another Mr Men support vehicle". But that was another time. Another life. Deep down, I laugh a mad man's laugh.

"Mama I'm tired". We pass through Swifts Creek. "I know, but Omeo is just over the top of that hill." It's true. Not far now. I stay focused, and at precisely 5:36pm we roll over the hill into Omeo. I stop at the T-intersection. "Look, Sabina, that's Spirit isn't it?" I point out the buckskin right in front of us. "Yes, Mama, it's Spirit". That's the only break we get.

I turn right and soon we're out of Omeo. At the Hinnomunjie bridge turn off I hesitate. I look at the clock, shake my head, the boys are probably enjoying happy our by now. We drive up the hill. "Look Sabina, there's Rain." (Rain is a horse from the Spirit movie). "Where Mama?" "I'll show you tomorrow." "Aha. Mama it's a long way." "Yes", I answer and re-focus on the corner. The road is narrower here, the edge perilous. "Mama I'm tired". "I know sweetie." "Mama, it's a long way". Well I guess it's better than a constant "are we there yet". "How about I put on the fixing song?". "Yeah!", the little voice cheers up for a second. Midnight Oil sings out. I take another corner. The music is lost on me. "Mama, it's a long way".

On another turn I glimpse the river, the rapids. Memories rush back. Time shifts. Henry is sitting next to me, and we're on our way to yet another Winter Classic change over. We pass the sweeping turn of the Black Duck. The road keeps winding. I remember passing another support crew. "You're being passed by another Mr Men support vehicle", I laughed then. I laugh now. That mad man's laugh. On the CD, Peter Garrett laugh's the same laugh. I shudder and return to the present.

The little settlement that is the Blue Duck Hotel comes into view. "Look Sabina, we're here. We're at the Blue Duck". "Is that the Blue Duck, Mama?". "Yes!". "Yay! We're here! We made it! We made it!", celebrates Sabina. I stop the car, and turn around "Did you think we were going to just keep driving forever?". "Yes, Mama".

We park in front of the log cabin. There is no sight of Russell's van. I grab some grapes, and a little hand, and head down to the pub. When I open the door the warm atmosphere hits me so hard I need to steady myself. I feel like a long lost daughter coming home. The white (or maybe silver) haired man smiles as he gives me the key to the cabin. "Are you with the paddling boys?", he asks. "Yes".

Sabina insists that we sit down at a table to eat the grapes. She sits, while I stand over her in anticipation. "You sit here", she points to a chair. Gladly. I take up her offer, just before my knees buckle underneath me. When the grapes are almost finished, we head back up to the cabin. The van rolls in. So does the lightening. Soon Sabina is being hoisted up by three happy paddlers.

Later on, we head back to the pub for dinner. A steak like that I haven't seen for a very long time. We drink beer and reminisce. The lightening gets closer and eventually the rain thunders on the tin roof.

Tuna Dip

1 small can of tuna in springwater
1 small container of philadelphia cheese spread
1 small onion, very finely chopped
juice of half a lemon

Mix the ingredients into a creamy consistency. Server with crackers and fresh vegetable sticks.

Sabina learnt the recipe in kindy. Larrah (our baby sitter) comes over. I leave the ingredients with her and go to ride my horse. By the time I come back the dip is made and almost fully eaten. I savour it with crackers. Delicious.

Fixing Song

We're off to Warragul to pick up Papa from the train station. A Midnight Oil CD is happily playing. "Mama, that's the fixing song". "The fixing song?", I echo, as we go around one bend, then another, then take the pot hole between the wheels. I listen to the distinct "bang bang bang" rhythm of the song. It does sound like a hammer with background clutter. "Clever little girl", I think to myself, as we bounce over a rise and wind down into a valley.

We pull up at the station a whisker before the train arrives, and we bound out of the car like two little kids, screaming and running. There's the train, there's Papa waving from the window in the second carriage. The doors open and a screaming running bundle of joy runs into Papa's outstretched arms. It's like this every week. So much joy.

We belt up, crack open our cans, and cruise back towards the ranch. "Papa, Mama is playing the fixing song", says the little voice from the back. "Yeah?", Papa sounds interested, "does it sound a bit like 'Bob the Builder'?". "Yes, on the scaffolding". Bob the Builder on scaffolding? What's going on here?

Well, it turns out that when the workmen (and all workmen are "Bob the Builder" in Sabina's eyes) on the scaffolding at Oma and Opa's play loud songs, which Oma dislikes, she says that they are "fixing" something. Hence the "fixing song". The little girl is spot on. Wish the adults could keep up.

The Wombat

It's late and we're on our way to the farm. Sabina is happily sleeping in her booster seat. As we arrive in our little village, all the houses are fast asleep. We turn onto our gravel road, and I cruise along gently. At the top of the big dipper I spot a dark shadow in the dip, and slam the breaks on. The change in momentum jolts Sabina awake. But she doesn't utter a word. We stop three metres away from the wombat. "Hrmmmmfff", he says as he gazes into the high beam. I turn my lights down, leaving only the glimmer of parking lights and wombat spotters. "Hrmmmfff" the wombat gazes at the big wombat of a car. Midnight Oil plays in the background. "Hrmmmfff" the wombat decides to seek the cover of tall grass by the side of the road. Lights back on, we drive on. At the letter box, I stop and glance at Sabina. "Did you see the wombat?" She nods.

Duck!

We are returning from our ride in the state forest, Sabina on Tornado, me on foot. We're back in our paddock, slowly meandering down the hill. When suddenly. Duck! There, on the ground. It looks like it has just gone for a snooze. Sabina is very curious, "why is it there mama? what is it doing mama?". "It's sleeping", I respond, "it is going to sleep for a long time".

Later that day we return to take another look at the duck. Sabina has brought a stick - she has been told she cannot touch it with her hand. It lies peacefully still in the grass. Intact. Sabina gently touches the beak with the stick. "Why is it not moving mama?". "It's asleep". "When will it wake up?" "It won't wake up for a very long time". "Why does it sleep in the day? Will it wake up when it's night? Why is it sleeping? Can we roll it over?". "Yes". On the other side, it's also intact. Almost. There is a small dark red crusty spot where the bullet entered. "What's that mama?" "It's an 'auw-wa' (a point where he's been hurt)". "Ah-ha. Why is there an auw-wa there? Why is he asleep? When will he wake up? Why is he not moving mama?". "He will be asleep for a very long time. Come, we should go now". "I will stroke him, maybe he will feel better and wake up sooner", Sabina gently strokes the duck with the stick. "Yes, I am sure the stroking feels very nice". We take one last look and retreat.

The Ride

We've passed the last gate into the state forest. Sabina is on Tornado, and I'm leading them on foot. We chat that Tornado is a good boy, and about the forest and the trees. "There's my house", cries out Sabina when our house comes into view. "And there's Papa", she spots the man standing in front of the house, waving madly. "Hello Papa!". We ride further than last time, and Sabina is very sorry that we need to turn around.

On the way back, I suggest that maybe next time we will take a picnic lunch, and stop to eat, and Papa can join us by bike. Sabina is delighted. When we return home she runs inside and announces "Papa, we will take lunch and you come by bike".

Baby Ba's

Sabina rides out on Tornado. I am leading them on foot. We head out towards the state forest, and as we close the last gate, I spot a couple of young feeding lambs. "Look, Sabina! Look at the lambs! They are drinking milk from their mama." I smile at her. But hang on ... OMG! "Sabina!!! Look! Those lambs have just been born! Look they are still dirty. Mama is licking them. She's going to lick them clean. This is the first time they have stood up and drank milk. Oh, look, that one hasn't even found the milk yet!" On and on I go. Mesmerised by the gift of life. Sabina stares with content, but I don't think she quite realises the significance of the moment.

Let's ride

It's Sabina's idea. To ride Tornado. She insists that about three lead ropes need to be attached - two to act as the reins, and one for mama. She grabs the mane and tries to jump on like a red indian. I give her a gentle shove. We're off. "To the gate" she says. "How about through the paddock, to the top of the hill", I suggest. "Yes, to see the Ba's" (the sheep). Tornado powers up the hill, and Sabina sits there, solid as a rock, proud as pie. The "Ba's" are there, their huge rounded horns, and their, well, sheepish faces, staring at us. Sabina is thrilled.

We go through the gates and into the state forest. From the track I point out our house. "There's my house!", comes the little voice, followed by "Tornado is a very good boy". The little girl is very happy, and only my third gentle suggestion about turning back is accepted. At the turn around Sabina jumps off and decides to lead Tornado. She runs forwards a bit, then slows right down. The rope drags on the ground half the time. Sabina is in danger of tripping, and Tornado may well get wrapped in it. What a mess. Even Tornado gets a bit frustrated. I stop the whole show, and do some minor explaining. Just gently. The outcome is that I lead Tornado (with the three lead ropes), and Sabina walks along holding my hand.

Back at the farm, Sabina wants to let him go. She takes him into the paddock, and he's so keen to get back to his horsey friends, he pretty much trots off. Headstall and leadrope still attached. Oops. We catch him and get the gear off. Of course, the said headstall and asoorted lead ropes are now going back into the house, to be applied to indoor horse. Just turn a blind eye to the dirt.

Come on up

Sabina and I go out to feed the horses. Sabina stands on the hill and calls out to them "Come on up! Tornado! Come on up!" The little voice sings out over the mountains like a long forgotten ballad. I progress into the shed to make the feed. At one point I see Sabina duck around the corner of the shed. Then I hear the horses hooves. "She wouldn't go into the paddock by herself, would she?". I bolt out of the shed, scoop still in hand.

There is Sabina, in the paddock, together with the four horses and a pony, while the fifth horse is galloping straight at her. He stops right in front of her, and does a little buck. Fear rises in my throat and panic grips me. I look at the horses - no fear, no panic. Peace. To them, Sabina has just joined the herd, and they're happy to have her.

I calm myself - the situation will only become dangerous if I show any anxiety. I smile, walk up to the fence and ask Sabina to come out. "But I want to get Tornado, mama". "I know, but we need to get his headstall first". "Oh", she comes up to the fence and clambers out. I sigh relief.

Elven Child

I give Sabina a quick haircut. Nothing fancy, just enough to get the hair out of her eyes. The rest stays long, even the whisps of hair around her ears. I admire the finished product, and realise she distinctly looks like a child of one of the Elves from Lord of the Rings. Minus the pointy ears of course.

Later on, Sabina is enjoying the swing and I joke with her that she is the "Elven Child". "Who are you?", I ask her. "Avon Child" she responds with a smile. Hmm. I have a vision of Sabina walking into kindy, proudly declaring "I am the Avon Child". Not funny. "El-ven Child" I correct her.

The Snake

Quite a collection of toys have now made it the hay house. Kettle, fry pan, dog bowl. I even spot my cup and spoon in there. The toys are spread throughout the little home, and as we leave for the day I am acutely aware that hay is really good at burying stuff. "We need to put all the toys away" I insist. "Mama, but why?". "Well, if we don't put the toys away, then snake will come and get them". The hay flies as the toys are quickly put into a box. "Gee I'm smart", I think to myself.

Fast forward to 2:20am. Yes, I'm asleep, but I get woken up by a little wimpering voice. I race to Sabina's room, cuddle her and ask her what happened. "Ba" she says (Ba is her toy sheep). "What happened to Ba?" I ask. "Snake" says the little fragile voice. I shake my head, gee I'm smart.

The Hay House

We wonder down to the big shed and Sabina sees the stack of hay bales. "Mama, lets roll down some hay" she suggests. I figure I'll need some anyway, so we may as well. She is sitting about 6 bales high and pushing them off the edge - all smiles. But after eight bales, the fun has to stop. What to do next? Build a hay house, of course. We build a "u" shaped house, about three bales high, with a fourth bale on top as the roof. It's brilliant. Like life-sized Lego. We play "house" visiting each other, making tea, lunch and dinner. Deep down I'm wanting to build another hay house, or perhaps add an extension to this one. Maybe we could make it split level?

Buckets ... with water

There was a storm during the week, which blew my horse feed buckets down into Bob's valley. I manage to sell the bucket recovery trip to Sabina as an adventure, and we wander down together. I hold her little hand on the steep slope, and gently try to slow her down every now and then. I can't keep up! We find the first bucket and Sabina "ooohs" at the amount of water in it. We pick it up, as well as some rubbish, and go up to the next bucket. "But mama, why is there water in it?". We pick up more rubbish enroute to the third bucket. "Ooooh! Look water! Why is there water in the bucket?" She never asks "why is there water in the rain gauge", so why this fascination?

When papa comes home I encourage her to tell him about our bucket recovery trip. "Papa ... and there was water in the buckets!!!" is her wide eyed version of the story.

Jake's 21st

It's dark and drizzling as we make our way up the driveway. We're all warm and cozy in our winter gear and Sabina has gone overdrive with monologue. "That's why I have two hands, one to hold Mama and one to hold Papa". At the end of the driveway we swing right, up the hill, then down to Phil Hill's for a festive celebration of his youngest 21'st birthday. Half the town seems to be there - it's nice to finally meet our other neighbours.

Sabina is a bit shy initially, but by the time dinner is served she is happy to sit next to me. And what a dinner it is. Local pig, slow cooked on the spit, with perfect crackling, loads of oven roasted vegies, and salads a plenty. We tuck in as though we haven't eaten for a week. Some of the vegies look local too. And on the way to the kitchen we spot a couple of beautiful pumpkins.

It's way past Sabina's bedtime and we need to leave before she turns into a pumpkin. Thrilling conversations are cut short, and we wander slowly into the darkness and up the hill. Sabina bravely walks all the way home, but once she's in bed, we don't hear another peep.

Bed time for us? There are logs to be moved, apparently. I change coats and we go outside.

Sam's Birthday Party

We're off to Sam's first Birthday Party. Sabina is wearning her sparkling party stockings. She does a toy headcount: bear, lala (doll), fire truck ... Tornado? Yes, Tornado is coming to the party as well. "Is he in the trailer?". Yes. Half an hour down the road, "Is Tornado in the trailer?" Yes. One hour down the road, "Is Tornado in the trailer?" Yes. We get to Sam's. Maddie (Tornado's previous owner) runs out followed by a bunch of curious children. In the frenzy of children and a dog, Sabina hands over the lead rope. Just like the piped piper, Maddie and Tornado lead the children away.

We join the party, and manage to get some food into Sabina between goes on various swings, hand swipes into the lolly jar, and blowing bubbles. The trampoline ... the last frontier. I climb in with Sabina, but after a couple of minutes I am disposable. It's great to see children jumping up and down and laughing.

It's almost time to leave, and we explain that Tornado will stay here for a bit of a sleep over. "But why is he staying here?" the little voice is puzzled, and the question keeps ringing out all the way to the Yarrambat vineyard.

Three Wheels Good

Friends with children arrive. They bring their own tricycle. Sabina eyes it off with envy. "I want to have a turn. Sabina's turn!". Of course. Luckily we're able to quickly pull out Sabina's pink bicycle with training wheels. Jayden, unpurturbed by the colour, jumps on and zooms down the driveway. Sabina get's into motion after him. Add little Isaac into the equation, and you've got more traffic than in Paris.

Later in the afternoon we go to see Tornado. Sabina declares that she just wants to keep riding the tricycle. We leave her to it. In a flash the trike is forgotten and she's opening the gate. She'll lead Tornado around. Jayden is keen to have a ride. "No no no! It's Sabina's turn". Sheesh. She gets a ride, and jumps off reluctantly, not really sure whether Jayden deserves a turn. Jayden has a turn, not really sure whether Sabina deserves a turn. Sabina's turn. Jayden's turn. Sabina's turn. Jayden's turn. "Last ride", I declare. Sabina jumps up behind Jayden and they laugh and giggle aboard the pony.

Rolling Bales of Hay

It's time to put the hay out for the next week. I climb on top of the hay stack - the bale lands with a thud. "Mama, wait! I wanna do that, I wanna do that!" Sabina climbs up the five storeys of hay bales. I place a bale for her on the edge, she pushes it off ... "thud!". Childhood laughter rings out. "Again!". We roll another one, then another, then another, then one more ... eight in total. Feeding out ... child's play.

Cake

I bake a cake. It's not very good. They eat it in a day.

The Taxi

We go into town to pick up some horse food. It's not often we go into town, but it's not that rare either. When our shopping is done we pull into the carpark, next to the police car. "Oh, look mama, a taxi!".

Loose Pony II

It's dark when we drive up to the gate. It's closed as normal. No pony. We breathe a sigh of relief and drive in. We stop at the shed to feed the horses. Oh, and what's that little white and black hairy creature doing amongst the horses? "Tornado! Back to your paddock you go!"

Loose Pony

It's dark when I drive up to the gate. It's closed as normal, but something doesn't look right. What's that white and black hairy creature doing behind it? "Oh, Tornado, you're a naughty pony". He rushes off towards the house as though he understands. I drive in and close the gate behind me in a rush. Tornado trots back to the house and gives me a happy snort when I put him back in his paddock.