The Barrista's Perspective

Every morning that I get into work, I put my things down at my desk, and promptly head back out again, downstairs, to get a coffee.  The barrista sees me from a distance, and by the time I get to the counter, my coffee is work in progress.

You see, the barrista doesn't know my name, but he knows that I have the same coffee every day ... as do most of his patrons.  So, when he spots me on the horizon he thinks "Ah, here comes 'small cappuccino'".

And, that short, dark skinned man over there - well he is a "tall latte".  The blonde haired tall bloke - "small machiato".  The two giggling ladies - "regular extra strong cappucino" and "regular latte".

Having said all that, I have recently changed work locations.  With that comes a new coffee shop and a new barrista.  The coffee is as good as ever, but this barrista insists on being on first name basis with all her regular customers.  Mind you, she still knows what your regular choice of coffee is.

Full moon rising

It's school holidays. Sabina and I are here, full time at the farm. We have just weathered five days of storm. Howling winds, rain, and hail. It has been so bad, that even horse mad me refused to ride in some of this weather. So bad, that the guinea pigs got brought into the laundry at night.

Finally today, the wind has abated. The clouds even managed to part, and we basked in brief sunshine in the afternoon.

Now at dusk, as the sun sets, I wander outside to feed the horses. As I push the wheelbarrow from the house to the big shed, I am overwhelmed by the calmness. Over the last few days I have been so used to the force of the wind, that now I am surprised by the ease of movement, the effortlessness of pushing the wheelbarrow, the simplicity of walking.

There are so many new sounds too. The gentle crunch of my feet on the gravel driveway. The rustle of my clothes. And the noises of various evening creatures, rejoicing in life. Down by the dam the frogs are ribbit-ing along cheerfully.

As I walk merrily, a sight catches my eye. The clouds in the east are glowing a pale, lonely, cold glow. I stop and put down the handles of my wheelbarrow, and stare. The clouds move along very slowly changing their shape. The source of the light is also moving very, very slowly. Finally, the pale face surfaces from behind the cotton wool clouds. The sight of the full moon. Rising.

A sign from God

A couple of years ago I was leaning on the gate to the amphitheatre paddock and looking at the horses. Back then we still had Tosca and Princess as well as Crownie. I thought to myself "I know that I need to sell at least one of the horses, but I don't know which one". I sighed. "God, can you please give me a sign which horse to sell. But God, don't make it some subtle sign please, because I don't notice those. Can you please make it a really obvious, smack in your face kind of sign. Pretty please."

Then I turned away and went into the big shed. In the meantime, the horses ventured down the hill. Later on I came out of the big shed, with buckets of horse feed. I called the horses, and the herd came galloping up. All except for Princess. Princess was lagging behind, trotting, while a fountain of white liquid was pouring out of her nose. I stared at the horse, stupified. There was my most obvious sign from God. That's the horse I need to sell.

Morning Musings

It's wet, windy. Dark. The dawn is just starting to break through, and vague shadows appear in the landscape. The horses are grazing peacefully in the valley, each busily eating out it's own, carefully selected patch of grass. Unnoticed, a figure appears on the ridge, watches them, barely able to make out their shapes in the hazy light.

Suddenly, a voice pierces the air. One of the horses looks up. She knows this voice. She notices the lonely figure on the ridge - too small for a tree, too big for a fox. She flares her nostrils, and trots on. The other horses look at her, then search for the source of the voice. In a matter of seconds the herd is together, and galloping up towards the ridge.

Near the top they ease their pace. The ridge is sparse with trees. The horses spread out, and form a front - each one passing between two trees. For a moment, it looks like their numbers double. Their approach is frightening, imposing. In awe, I stand my ground.

The moment passes, and I turn to lead them towards the hay. They see it now, and trot on. For a short, unforgettable pause in time, I am part of the herd. I feel their heat, I hear their breathing, I understand their longing to always be together. As they overtake gently, I grab the one I am looking for. The dawn light wins the battle of the shadows. Night retreats. Day breaks.

Welcome!

My husband and I have just purchased a beautiful 37 acre (14 hectares) property in Victoria, Australia. Come on a journey with us, as we clean up, renovate, refence, learn to farm, experience the "tree change", laugh, cry and play on this beautiful property.