Tour de France

My husband doesn't watch T.V. - Tour De France being his one and only exception, when he sits up half the night for three weeks, transfixed by two hundred guys on bicycles.  On the odd occasion I watch the beginning with him, hoping to poke him in the ribs as they show off some stunning chateaux.  I'll be honest - I also enjoy the culinary segment presented by Gabriel Gate'.

Well the other day, Gabriel Gate' dished up a recipe for leg of lamb, Normandy style.  With sheep grazing in the foreground, and Mt St Michel in the background, who could resist?

So I told my daughter that tonight Gabriel Gate' was coming to cook dinner.  "Gabriel who?", she asked.  So I explained.  She gazed at me.  So I dug out my best French accent, and tried to impersonate the famous chef.  Aha ... now she understood.  Except that she forgot his name.

So, all afternoon she kept asking "So, when is Master Chef coming?"

When we finally made it into the kitchen, I impersonated Gabriel again, just to set the scene.  By now she memorised his surname - well, sort of.  So, every time I turned my back it was "Hey, Gateaux!"

And if I turned around and spoke normally I was heavily reprimanded that "you are not Mama any more, you are Gateaux, speak like Gateaux!"

As the dinner preparations went on, and our conversation continued - me speaking with ze sexy French accent, and flirting like a true Frenchman, while the little girl batted her lashes, blushed, smiled and encouraged me to go on, we eventually moved onto first name basis.  Except my female form must have cast an influence, and so it became "Hey Gabriella!".

Eventually, dinner was served.  Given how much play acting and French talking oozed over it anything could have been forgiven, but it was not only edible, but delicious!  I was allowed to become Mama again as long as Gabriel made the odd appearance.

Run Guinea Pig! RUN!!!

My daughter received a DVD of "White Tuft, the little beaver" for Christmas.  The DVD is fantastic, filmed in the Canadian forest, with no visible human intervention whatsoever.  That's right, a real river, with real beavers, wolves, owls, lynxes, you name it.

Living in Australia, my daughter had never heard of beavers before.  So the start of the movie was littered with questions.  What are these animals?  What do they do?  Where do they live?  What do they eat?  And of course, what are they called again?

Then the part came in the movie, when White Tuft, the little beaver is being chased by wolves.  Earlier on, we were told that White Tuft's father was taken by wolves.  So the danger was obvious.

And, what are they called again?

At first Sabina tried to run off the couch in fear for the little beaver.  But, curiousity drew her back to the screen.  Yet, she couldn't watch the little fellow being followed by these wolves.  So in the end, she just screamed "Run guinea pig!  RUN!!!"

(Come to think of it, there are many similarities between the beaver and the guinea pig.)

V/Line

A strange set of events led to me catching the train from Warragul back into town.

My husband dropped me off at the station in Warragul, which was crowded with school kids. They were obviously catching the country train on their way home from school.

The train was quite long, and so most of the carriages were close to empty. I settled into a couple of adjacent seats. But I could have quite easily occupied 8! The rowdy school kids must have gone another carriage, because it was quiet in ours.

The train hooted along, flashing past green paddocks with grazing fresians, and stopping at all the country stations along the way. As we got closer to the city, the paddocks became smaller, and the cows were replaced by horses, the barbed wire by post and rail. Part of me wondered why we couldn't have bought a nice horse property here, part of me knew. The state forest.

When we joined with the suburban train track, the train really started zooming along. I sat in my seat, reading my (Harry Potter) book, glancing out the window occasionally. Just in time to spot the down boom gates, and long queues of cars waiting for my royal carriage to pass. The train driver hooted the horn regularly just to let everyone know, that this train was coming through.

I found my journey "rejuvenating".

I disembarked at a suburban station, and caught the bus home. The bus trip was not "rejuvenating" per se ... "entertaining" is probably more appropriate. There was some lout at the back giving non-stop commentary ... on everything. Everything that caught his attention, be it the ad for zero coke, or the driver that didn't give way, or the sign on the local primary school. And of course, as we drove via the University he got stuck into the uni students as well. But with good humour, and he knew when to stop.

It wasn't a short trip, but I arrived home extremely refreshed, and with a smile on my face. Now to the best part. How much did I pay for all this pleasure?

$3.80.

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

So, I have successfully read "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone" to Sabina. But, where did I get the book from? Well, I borrowed it from a trusted friend. Of course, she happened to have the whole set of books in a box, so she lent me the entire box.

Having enjoyed the first book, I quickly moved onto the second book. I ... moved onto the second book - not the entire family. I didn't want to start a trend, so I read the second book in secret. But, of course, inadvertently, at some point, I left it visible. Well, eyes started sparking, and mouths started watering, when the remainder of the family saw the second book lying around, my bookmark clearly somewhat through the book.

One pleading look from Sabina, and I was roped into reading the second book out aloud. We've had an absolutely brilliant time reading the second book as a family. There has been much discussion about every chapter, what happened yesterday, what clues have Harry, Ron and Hermione missed. We also have a good laugh at George and Fred's antics. (Sabina runs down the corridor screaming "Watch out! Heir of Slytherin coming through".)

My favourite moment was when Sabina actually worked out some of the clues, before they were given away in the story.

So ... it appears ... that I have started a trend after all.

The Nimbus 4000

(We've been reading "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone" to Sabina, so broomsticks and especially the Nimbus 2000 are fresh on her mind.)

This morning we're having a lazy family breakfast (at the ripe time of 11am!). Papa takes this opportunity to bring in my birthday present - which looks like a giant toblerone.

Between bites of egg, bacon and bread, we try to guess what could be hidden in such an odd shaped pakage. "Maybe it really is a giant toblerone?", I muse. "It's not a pair of riding boots, that's for sure." "Can't be a horse rug." "Doesn't exactly look like a book either." "Mama! I know! I know!", butts in Sabina. "It's a broom stick!" Given how much time I spend riding horses, it wouldn't at all surprise me if my husband was trying to divert my attention to riding something else. You know, to diversify. Broaden my horisons a bit.

"Mama! It's probably the Nimbus 2000!", exclaims Sabina.

"But Sabina, I'm not turning 20, or 200 or 2000", I comment.

"Ok then. It's a Nimbus 4000 then", the little girl can barely sit on the edge of her seat.

Having agreed that it's the Nimbus 4000, we open the mysterious package. We were close.

It turns out that the Nimbus 4000 is actually a portable horse yard (Retract-a-Fence), that you attach to your float, or to some other stationary device, such as a fence post.  Then you extend the remainder as far as you want to, creating either a yard, or a temporary fence (for example across your drive way, or in front of your shed).

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.

Long Tunnel Extended Gold Mine

Walhalla used to have a gold mine.  A few of them, actually.  We go on a tour of the Long Tunnel Extended Gold mine, which was the biggest, and most profitable.  Incidentally, it's the only mine that offers tours.  Entrances to all the other mines are closed off with heavily padlocked doors.

Just walking down the tunnel itself (actually, up the tunnel) is an amazing experience - seeing the light at the end of the tunnel (behind us) get smaller and smaller.  Eventually the tunnel forks, and we gaze up the left fork, the smaller fork - it just begs to be investigated.  We continue up the right fork into a huge double chamber - the size of a small house.

Here, our guide, Sheriff, explains to us how water continually seeps into the mine, and had to be pumped out. They had serious boilers in this chamber to provide the energy to pump this water out, and they had chimneys going directly from this chamber up 130m to the surface to get rid of all the smoke. Well they had all sorts of problems with debris dropping down said chimney, due to the heat of the smoke. So they lined it with bricks. Can you imagine? Working inside a chimney, 130m tall, merely 4 feet wide, lining it with bricks?

Sheriff shows us a map of all the tunnels, and where the gold was found. My jaw drops, because I realise that we are in the very top, very first tunnel. We're at the tunnel's end, where a shaft drops down 923m! That's almost a kilometre! Straight down, towards the centre of the earth. And this was dug out in the late 1800's, with relatively primitive tools! But the even more amazing thing is that there are tens of tunnels extending horizontally left and right off this shaft! Think about it. Kilometres and kilometres of tunnels, deep down under the earth. No light at the end of those tunnels. And that's where the gold was dug out from. All 13.7 tonnes of it.

I move away from the group, and find the shaft in a corner of the chamber. It's been sealed off, and made into a bit of a display. Behind the glass, on the right I can see a miner on a ladder. Blue uniform, a miner's lamp. Next to him, there is a trolley full of ore. The trolley is sitting in a cage - this is the real shaft, the big 1km hole in the ground. The trolley has wheels. I gaze down at the ground - I am standing on a pair of rails. Like train tracks. I gaze back down the tunnel - the train tracks run all the way to the end of that tunnel.

My mind comes alive. I can see trolleys being hauled up, being released from the cage and pushed down the tunnel, towards the light. They rattle as they roll. Men toil hard, feeding wood into the boilers, and getting trolleys out of the cage, their faces beading with sweat. I entertain visions from one of the Indiana Jones movies. A sneaky smile creeps onto my face.

Sabina, curious, comes over. She sees the miner behind the glass. "Mama, is he alive?", her eyes widen with childlish disbelief. I am so, so tempted to say "yes", but I resist. She is so innocent in her concern for the poor miner behind the glass.

"So, 20m below us is the water table", Sheriff's voice bellows over our thoughts. "And 300m below us are the stables." Sabina pricks up her ears. "Just before they closed the mine, they sent all the school kids in here, disassembled as much as they could and brought it up to the surface. Then they shot the ponies, got everyone out, and turned everything off. The entire mine flooded, and now we can only get 20m down the shaft." If you thought Sabina's eyes were big when she saw the miner, you should see them now. "But why did they shoot the pony?", she asks.

"We spoke to one of the women who, as a schoolgirl was sent into the mine to help disassemble equipment", Sheriff continues. "She said that there were trolleys loaded with ore. There is no evidence that those trolleys ever made it up to the surface. So we know there is gold down there." Everyone gets a little twinkle in their eye. Gold talks in mysterious ways. Sabina, tugs at my sleeve. "But Mama, why did they shoot they pony?".

Finally we turn back down the passage. There is light at the end of the tunnel. Sabina leads us out of the mine. The tour is over, but the question "why did they shoot the pony?" haunts us for the remainder of the day.

Walhalla Railway

We are spending the weekend in Walhalla, an old gold mining town. Sabina has already told all her school friends on Friday that she is off to "Walhalla-halla" for the weekend. Very cute.

Our first attraction is the Walhalla Railway.

When we arrive at the station, the train is already waiting.  Sabina gets all excited, jumping up and down, while I purchase tickets.  The train has two carriages pulled by a diesel engine.  The carriages have windows, which have all been dropped down, so the air in the train, is as fresh as outside the train.

The station master goes ahead with the full protocol of whistle, "All aboard!", wave the green flag, and we're off.  Sabina is jumping up and down with joy, sticking her neck out of the window, and grinning from ear to ear.

The train moves off slowly, and the red carriages creak and groan.  I poke my head out of the window too, and admire the creek below us.  We're in a deep gorge, with the road cutting a straight line somewhere up above us.  "There's brumbies up there", comments Sabina.

The valley is green and lush with ferns.  The train track is cut into the side of the hill.  As I look ahead, I can only see the rocky mountainside, that seems to suddenly disappear.  It looks like the train might just continue straight, and run off the edge.  But, it doesn't.  At the last moment, I see the green engine turn left, hugging the side of the mountain.

Another time, it looks like we might well scrape a rocky ledge.  It passes within hand's reach.  It's better than a Disneyland ride. 

We pass a tiny station called "Happy Valley", and eventually we cross the Thomson river, and end up at Thomson.  Here we have a chance to jump off and explore for a few minutes.  Visions of Menzies Creek station and their devine devonshire teas come whafting to me from the past.  The whistle of the train, now turned for home, brings me back to the present.  We board, and re-live the journey back to Walhalla.  Sabina's enthusiasm is unabating.

Kilos and shots

Recently I have been whingeing about all this weight I've been stacking on, while still claiming I could do a well posed shot. Check out the said shot.

I admit though, it would have looked better with that blonde wig.

Dogs

Hunters frequent the state forest next to our farm. They've been out there for days. They have a machine that makes different animal sounds. Even I can tell the difference between a real animal, and the hunters' machine sounds. And the horses usually pick up the hunters from 2km away. Mainly, they hunt deer with dogs and guns.

Well they are out there today, making their fake bird sounds. I wish they would just get over it, as I saddle up Bess and Tornado. Crownie is a bit stiff through the back, and Sabina is really keen for me to ride Bess.

We ride out. It's a gorgous day and just lovely to be out there. Somewhere in the distance the motorbikes are out, and I stay vigilant. Bess lacks forward. I put it down to her character, and the motorbike noises.

We stop for a break on the side of the road. Sabina enjoys sitting in the shade and eating her snack, while I hold the horse and pony. Tornado seems happy enough, but Bess is disturbed. She keeps gazing in the direction of home and feeling anxious. I find this rather odd, as she is such a placid easy going horse. Either she is really hanging out to go home, or I have an electric seat.

As we mount up, Bess spins around so fast that I almost fall off. Oddly enough, she spins around and wants to run away from home. Strange.

We head towards home. Sabina keeps hanging back and chatting - sometimes to me, sometimes to herself, sometimes to Tornado. Bess remains on edge. Then I see them, two grey shadows ambling hesitantly down the road. Hunting dogs? Strays? They look like two huge greyhounds - each standing taller than Tornado. Their coat looks unkept, and it gives them a wild, somewhat savage look. The one closer to us has his tail tucked under his legs.

When they see us, they hesitate. We are half their prey, and half their masters. They look confused. Sabina is torn out of her childlish fantasy pony ride. "Mama!" I take a more solid grip on my whip. Thank God I brought one, and thank God I brought the one that does damage. I move Bess to shield Sabina. "Go home!", I call out sternly. I wave the whip at them. "Go on! Go home!".

They turn around, take another look at us, then slowly walk back up the track. Sabina's got the hang of it now, and she's fully roaring at them like a ferocious tiger. Thanks to her endless tiger games she's actually got a roar worth reckoning. The dogs, break into a trot.
 
We follow the dogs. I keep a very watchful eye on them. Sabina goes back to ambling 20 metres behind me, but she keeps roaring. From the farm, Pete watches the strange procession. He can't see the dogs - just me, and a screaming Sabina behind me. He thinks that Sabina is just having a bad time, and waves to us with jolity.

Finally, when we're at the state forest gate, and I see the grey shapes slinking along at the bottom of the valley, I breathe a real sigh of relief. We start laughing at our adventure. Deep down I marvel at Bess' trust in me, and Tornado's calmness. What awesome horses we are so lucky to borrow and own. (Thanks Lisa!)

Mothers' Day

We celebrate Mothers' Day with a sleep in, presents for mum, and freshly baked croissants.

Well, it's a sleep in for me, but husband groans at the 7:40 start dictated by our little girl. On the days when I quietly get up and go horse riding, Sabina is quite capable of sleeping in till 8:30. 9:30 if you're really lucky.

While I am still lazing around in bed, Sabina brings me presents. Fist two drawings of a very happy mother. Then a notepad. She's very proud of her choice of notepad, but she's not sure if it will actually hit it off with mum. I can see that everything rides on my approval. Her happiness, her confidence, almost her entire existence. I marvel at the notepad, and repeatedly comment on how pretty it is, and how useful it will be.

The croissants for breaksfast - they are from Sabina's school. I organised them, I followed the instructions to thaw them last night, and I bake them this morning. I am still the mum. Even on Mothers' day. But it doesn't matter. Just eating these yummy croissants for breakfast together is fantastic.

Later we dash off to the local tree nursery and buy a golden elm, and a norwegian maple. The golden elm will go next to the sandpit to create a shady canopy. The norwegian maple will line the driveway.

Towards the end of the day we have an early dinner. The farrier is coming tomorrow, and I am staying the night at the farm, while Pete and Sabina are heading back to town by train. The train is running 15 minutes late. 20 minutes, by the time it hits town. My mother spends the better part of an hour waiting for them to arrive at their destination, so she can give them a lift home.

She's still a mum. Even on Mothers' day.

Training track

Sabina has just started primary school, and on Friday they are having Twilight Athletics.

Being an advocate of all things sporty, I cannot let her go unprepared. So we turn the driveway into a training track. We mark the start, we mark the finish.

We do a practice run. Sabina shows a lot of speed, but she is looking around so much that half of it is lost. And, she slows right down a metre from the finish line.

"Sabina", I kneel down to be at her level. "You're going to run fast. No looking around. Don't slow down before the finish line. Run like the leopard. Can you run like the leopard for me?" She nods.

We give it another go. Better.

Then we practice starts. "Ready, set, GO!", then "Ready, set, BANG!", just in case they have a starter's gun. Then a longer distance. I spur her on. "Mama, my legs hurt".

"Ok, time for some long jump."

We have a rest while I draw up the start of the long jump. She takes a run up, then smiles sideways at me as she takes the take off line in mid stride.

"Excellent", I say.

"Mama, now let's do it together!"

Valentines Day

I return from my horse riding, and I am greeted by a chocolate heart in a red wrapper hanging on the door. Hmmm ...

After my chocolate is consumed with delight together with my coffee we head off in the car towards Noojee. Then onwards to Toorongo falls. We park the car and proceed on foot. Sabina runs merrily up the path, stopping every now and then to see the water rushing over the rocks. After about 1km or so we arrive at the falls.


The waterfall is beautiful, especially after the recent rains. The water spreads out at the top and cascades down over the rocks like angel hair. We sit spellbound while Sabina eats a snack.

Then we continue on to another rapid. Sabina bounces along the path with renewed vigour. The rapid itself is pretty enough, but the platform jutting out into the river is really cool. It sits right over the middle of the river, with a rapid underneath, and it's made out of a metal mesh, so that you can actually see the water gushing below your feet.

We walk down another path back to the car, flicking off the odd leech. We try to avoid telling Sabina about the leeches, but when we do a full body scan at the car we have to fess up that they are not just mosquitos.

Walkie Talkie

Two days after Black Saturday we bought ourselves walkie talkies, a set of two, so that we could listen to local CFA communications. Since then we've found they are great for communicating around the farm, where we don't always have mobile phone reception. Recently, our daughter has been getting really good at using them too. So last week, my husband popped out and got himself a bigger, stronger model. (He'd been eyeing it off for 6 months apparently, and they just took $100 off.)

Today, we're getting ready for visitors. Sabina is inside colouring in some pictures, Pete is checking something out around the shed, and I am starting up the BBQ.

"Ksh. I'm on my way back. Do you need some help with the fire? Over. Ksh", says Pete.
"Oh yeah, that would be good", I respond.
"Ksh. I'm just finishing this picture! Ksh", butts in Sabina.

Pete appears around the corner. Sabina opens the door.

"Ksh. Number 89, number 89, cheeken parmeegiana with chyps and salad. Ksh", comes through on the walkie talkies. I laugh.

In passing

I return from my horse riding lesson and head inside for a well earned coffee. This is my third horse riding lesson in a row. On the way in, I pass my husband and daughter, who, having finished their indoor tasks, are heading out ... at midday.

"I'd like to have another horse riding lesson next week", I propose.
"What?!", gasps my husband. "I want my wife back!"

Mothers' Day

Mothers' Day was few months ago. I know. In our family, we have a particularly poor photo download and publish process. So I only found these snapshots recently, and thought they were worth sharing.

This year, for Mothers' Day, Sabina took me out horse riding in the state forest. As it was a bit of an "occasion", Crownie had to be plaited up.

We got to Dead Cow, and Sabina was so exhausted, that she needed to stop for a picnic.

This left me holding onto the horses.

Then we rode back home.

And here's a tip from Sabina. "This is a great way to celebrate Mothers' Day."

Afternoon tea

We're working outside, in the garden. Icy wind blows through the rocks we're trying to move with the tractor.

Three muffins.
Three minutes.
Gone.
Three smiles.
A chocolate crumb left in the corner.

Work resumes.

Cake

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

Dead Tired

I rode my horse this morning as usual, then I return to the house for a cup of tea and a sandwich. Sleepiness overtakes me, and I lie down on the carpet, watching my daughter play. She feeds me, and gives me a drink, and covers me up with the blanket. My husband gives me a sorry glance before heading outside. "Poor girl, what did that horse do to her?" He walks past my horse's paddock - the horse is lying down in the paddock. "OMG! What did she do to the horse?!"

More helpers

Ok, no one reads my blog. At least not the bit about how hard helping hands are expected to work at the ranch. Today, they arrive in hoards, loaded with bedding and supplies. I compare the head count to the room count and shrug my shoulders. After all, it's my husband who invited these people, he can worry about where they will sleep.

The primary task for today is a mountain bike ride. Pete's work mates vanish temporarily, only to reappear transformed as lycra lizards, wearing technically advanced helmets, and state of the art bladders. They hop on their two wheeled steeds and disappear up the track.

We are left to sit back, enjoy a cup of coffee and watch the view. I am so relaxed I feel out of place.

After about three hours, the men return, exhilerated. They jump in and out of the shower, and the fridge (for a beer). Chips roll into bowls. They light the bonfire, and the BBQ. Bottles of red wine appear on the side table, and it takes the women five tries to get the head count right for dinner. The table is heaving under the festive offerings, which come in waves from the hot BBQ. It's musical chairs around the table - if there is nothing left on your plate, then you must offer your seat to the next person. Just when everyone thinks they are full, the damper rolls in. It is delicious. Consumed in seconds.

The troops go to check out the bonfire. Within minutes they are back, soaking wet. "It's gone, all gone." Time for ice cream, and reading magazines, and putting your feet up, and going to bed.