The Deluge

Sabina and I are at the Warragul show today, showing off Sabina's pony Tornado. Showing is taxing, and between classes we sneak away and have a ride.

Pete is cycling from Melbourne to the farm, as part of his training for the Baw Baw classic.

He calls me on the phone. "I am just outside of Pakenham, and there is a massive black cloud chasing me. It doesn't look pretty. You may need to pick me up, I'll call you again."

Pick him up??! Sabina, float, pony, and he wants me to pick him up? Sheesh.

We wait around for almost an hour, but then the rain drops start falling. Big, heavy rain drops. I bundle Sabina in the car, pony on the float, and we head off.

The rain starts coming down in merciless sheets as we drive. Then it eases off. The phone rings. It's Pete. Come and pick him up from Robin Hood Hotel. Fabulous. I U-turn.

The wind is strong, and with some trepidation I watch the tops of the trees get blown about. I pray with all my might, that a branch doesn't drop on us. With car and float, we make a pretty unmissable target.

Then, in Drouin West, just as we pass the Primary School and the CFA, the deluge commences. Initially we get sheets of rain, just like before, Then it gets stronger, and heavier. A few cars pull off. I understand that according to the laws of probability we are safer moving, and so I drive on, albeit slowly.

I can barely see the road in front of me. Then the rain gets heavier still, and I can no longer see the end of my own bonnet. My entire focus is on that one point where the rain meets the front of my car. It amazes me that a year and one month ago, this area was ungulfed in flames.

Eventually the rain eases off somewhat, and I can start seeing some of the road again. Just in time, as a big puddle looms in front of us. Hydroplaning over it with a float is not my idea of fun. Luckily, I know this road like the back of my hand, and I can judge the depth of this puddle to the centimetre.

We arrive at the Robin Hood Hotel. The wind still howling, the rain still pouring. But we are away from trees and flying branches. I breathe a sigh of relief and sit back in my seat. "Mama", Sabina perks up in the back seat. "You know how you always tell me to be quiet when the weather is on the radio?" I nod. "Well, Mama, did they tell you about this?!" she asks. I laugh. "No, Sabina, they didn't. They just said a couple of passing showers."

We see Peter standing under the eves of the Pub, huddled into an alcove. His bike resting against the wall of the pub, half in the rain. "Mama, I can use the umbrella from my show bag to go and get Papa!" I allow her to have her fun, much to the protests of the father being rescued. For he knows that he has to get saturated regardless, while putting the bike on the roof, and that a Dora umbrella is no match for this force of nature, nor is it truly wide enough for a paddler's shoulders.

I must admit I am somewhat surprised that he is standing outside the pub. I was expecting him to be inside, putting away a beer. But all is explained when bike is on the roof, and Peter and Sabina are safely in the car. "The pub is flooded", he says. "I got here, two minutes before the rain hit. Got myself inside the pub. Then it started pouring. Just outside at first. Then inside. Water started coming in everywhere. Under the doors, through the windows, down the light fittings. I swear, you could stand your glass on the bar, and it would fill with water in seconds. It was drier under the eves outside."

We drive home in the pouring rain, and watch how half of the gravel road to our farm is getting eroded away by instant mini creeks.

Meanwhile ... back at the ranch ...

Everything is fine. The back patio is looking quite flooded, and all the boots standing under the eves are pretty much full of water. I am talking, to the brim. But inside, the house is nice and dry, the sheds are nice and dry, and the horses have kept themselves nicely hidden from the sheer impact of the rain.

Warragul Show Fireworks

The Warragul show starts this afternoon and continues into tomorrow.

We grab a quick dinner at the pub, and go into the show just as it's getting dark.

Sabina is mesmerised by all things flashing and sparkling, and we are immediately drawn to a stand selling flashing ... well ... just about everything. One flashing fairy wand later, and we go towards the rides.

Sabina rides the Merry-go-round, then a coursel with swings. Next we approach the Cha-Cha, a three arm swirling thing that utilizes G-forces. I ask whether there is an age limit. No, no age limit. I suspect this is incorrect, but since Sabina is my daughter, and I love all things G-force, I decide we will go on it together.

The Cha-Cha starts spinning, and Sabina squeals with joy as the first G-forces make our legs feel weightless. Then it goes faster and faster. I love it, but I am somewhat concerned about Sabina. This is a pretty full on ride for a little girl. She's laughing all the way.

We watch the fireworks. Sabina is spellbound by the "fire in the sky". Then we grab some fairy floss, a lolly pop, and of course the obligatory show bag.

Twilight Athletics

This afternoon, after school, Sabina's school has organised Twilight Athletics at the local track. The track is impressive, as is the organisation. Children and teachers are seated in the grass area on the oval (inside the running track), while parents are watching from the stands (outside the running track).

The afternoon commences with an official opening ceremony which includes a parade of all the athletes. The athletes have been grouped into four teams: green, gold, red and blue. Sabina is in the Gold team.

Once the games are declared open, children are called up to the running track and to the long jump. Finally, I see that the Prep children are being prepared for a run.

Parents, of course, are supposed to stay in the stands, and be good spectators. But of course, "rules" per se never meant much to me, and the coach in me takes over. I run out to the group of prep children. Sabina is overjoyed to see me. But to me, this is not about mother and daughter joy. This is about strategy, tactics and running the race.

I squat down, hold her hand and say "now listen little girl. I want you to run like a leopard. Will you run like the leopard for me? Will you? Will YOU run like the LEOPARD?" Sabina nods with some uncertainty. The other children turn around and look at me with awe. "I am going to run like the leopard", says one girl. "Me too", says another. All of a sudden I am surrounded by 20 or so preps all wanting to run like the leopard. Wow. This is so cool.

I continue my little speel to Sabina about running like the leopard, until I feel she is sufficiently pumped. "I'll be at the finish line", I call out, and head to the other end of the track.

I see her line up, the starter's gun fires, and the girls are running. I can see Sabina stretching her legs and putting on some serious speed. But I also see her looking around. "Go Sabina! You go GIRL! Go Gold!", I cheer. "Go! Go! Go!". Eight girls bound across the finish line. It's clear to me that Sabina didn't come first. Maybe third? Maybe fourth? Then I see a man run up to her and hand her the red ribbon. Wow. Second. She did run like the leopard!

The games continue, and at the end Gold team comes second. Sabina is so proud, she thinks her team came first.

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.

From Bright

Australia Day!

Sabina is amazed to see all the people with Australian flag tatoos (temporary ones), Australian capes and hats. Of course she wants one too!

We pack up, depart our accommodation, and drive straight up the hill to Fiona's. She's got three girls Sabina's age - great play time for everyone. We sit on the deck, watching the trees on the nearby hills. We're pretty much in the middle of Bright, but because we're a bit up the hill, you wouldn't know the town exists.

Later we drive to Milawa for lunch, where we pick up some cheeses from the renowned Milawa cheese factory. We're barely back on the main road, when Sabina says "I already want to be there!". We laugh.

Some of the length of the journey is eased by me singing. Everything from Polish folk songs I used to sing in a choir, to Polish Christmas carols, to anything else that comes to mind. Sabina sings along with me, which leaves me proud as pie.

The Recovery

Today is recovery day, and the boys compare notes and reminisce about the ride. They show off photos and tan lines.

We take a short drive down to Wandilligong, and go into the hedge maze. The maze has us totally puzzled as we wander around the same region of it for about 1/2 an hour. Finally I put my foot down, we apply the right hand rule, and with amazing ease complete the maze. Lunch follows.

Today is also Peter's birthday. In the afternoon we setup for afternoon tea outside. (Yet another hot day.) Two chocolate cakes, and two schnapps decorate the table. Friends roll in from all directions. The adults dig into the delicacies, the kids jump in the pool.

In the evening we pop out to a restaurant for dinner. Afterwards we wander over to the Bright Brewery. It's owned and run by our friends, Scott and Fiona, and we get involved in drying the dishes (in our Sunday best). But it's good to chat and catch up. As always, Fiona has some out left field ideas.

The Audax

The alarm rings. My alarm. It's 5am. You see, it is the job of "da wife" to wake up "da husband" so he is on time for the start of his ride. Sheesh. I am sure this wasn't in my wedding vows. Or was it?

Pete is gone before I know it. I am sure that ouside the world hums with multi-thousand dollar bikes, but I sleep on.

Sabina and I enjoy a lovely girls day out. First shopping for a present for Papa's birthday, then the obligatory cappucino, followed by shopping for afternoon tea delicacies, water guns and a surf mat. It is 30+ deg C again today. And we go back to our accommodation for a dip in the pool. The water guns and surf mat are a hit.

I get the odd update from Pete. "At Falls". "At Bright". Then I get one from the ride organisers - "Peter has just reached Mt Buffalo". We get out of the pool, and into town, where we stand cheering just before the finish line. (Was cheering part of my vows?)

Finally Peter finishes his ride, and we race after him. Sabina ignores all barriers and jumps into the race finish with Papa, proudly holding onto his bike.

In Bright

The little town of 2,500 people is buzzing. Over 30,000 visitors have descended on the town for the long weekend. A large proportion of them will be participating in the Audax Alpine Classic. The Audax (as it's commonly known) is a gruelling bike ride (push bike) any way you take it.

The short distance is Bright-Tawonga Gap-Mt Beauty-Tawonga Gap-Bright. 64km. You may be tempted to ask why isn't it just called "Bright-Mt Beauty-Bright"? When you have cycled up Tawonga Gap, you'll know why.

The other short distance is Bright-Mt Buffalo-Bright. 70km. From Mt Buffalo you will be able look back on Tawonga Gap and laugh.

Then there is Bright-Tawonga Gap-Falls Creek-Tawonga Gap-Bright. 130km. The only time you'll be laughing here is when you finish in Bright and realise, that the rider behind you is doing the 200km.

Then Bright-Tawonga Gap-Mt Beauty-Tawonga Gap-Bright-Mt Buffalo-Bright. 140km. See laughing instructions for the 70km ride.

Then there is the real McCoy, the original Audax, Bright-Falls Creek-Bright-Mt Buffalo-Bright. 200km. Over moutains. Laugh only when you finish.

And finally, the new special for this year, the ACE250. Bright-Mt Hotham-Omeo-Falls Creek-Bright. 250km. Over mountains. It's no laughing matter. It even has qualifying rides in order to enter.

So what are we doing here? Well, of course, Peter the bike riding endurance junkie, is doing the realy McCoy Audax 200km over mountains. His friends have more sanity, and they are only doing the 140km. Nice. Sabina ... well she's just ridden the 1km into town for an ice cream, and quite frankly I've been dragging her bike for the last 200m while she's been skipping along beside me.

We sit down at a cafe with our ice creams, and enjoy the hot day. 30+ deg C. The place is crawling with lycra lizards, dogs, children and bikini beauties. Bikes, bikes and more bikes are everywhere. And they are expensive machines too. Most of them standing in bike racks, or leaning against light posts. Unlocked. The waitress comments that they are running out of food.

Well, we're not! The cycling boys (men, perhaps) are so hung up on getting their carbs before the big day, that we've got more pasta, and more meat sauce of various kinds, than you can poke a stick at!

After dinner the boys double check their bikes, and pack their bags. Questions like "one spare tube or two?", "magnesium drink or protein drink?", "gel or pre-mixed drink?" are dominating the conversation. Everyone hits the sack early. I find a good book on the shelf. It swallows me whole. I finally manage to free myself from it just after midnight.

To Bright

We're taking a break from our farm this weekend, and heading up to Bright. We're supposed to leave at 7pm, but these plans always seem to slip. Especially when children are involved.

Then we get a call from Pete's mate. He is already up in Bright, and he's forgotten his cycling shoes. Can we please pick them up from his house? Thank goodness we're late.

Sabina wonders how can he put the shoes on the front porch if he is not home?

We pick up the shoes and drive off, into the night, up the Hume Highway.

Sabina is very excited about the trip, and attempts to stay awake the whole way. "I already want to be there", she moans. We look at each other and smile. "It's a long way", she comments. All day I had tried to prepare her for the long drive. I failed. Eventually she falls asleep.

We drive into Bright, and head to our accommodation. Our friends are still up, enjoying a drink or two.

After the storm

Last night there was a massive storm with strong winds, thunder and lightening and very heavy rain. We have two shining gums growing near our front gate, and one of them dropped a branch on the fence. Right on the stay. The stay was broken, the post snapped off. The wire is kinked, but amazingly, not broken.

Pete's day is taken up with fixing the fence while Sabina and I bring back soil and fill in gaps around the new path.

Haying Recovery

Friends with kids arrive at lunchtime, and Sabina is overjoyed to have playmates her age. The path is heavily utilized as they chase each other on bikes and scooters.

In the meantime, Pete and I are welcoming, but dazed. I suspect that our friends just think we're relaxed. They probably think it's a lovely change from our normal "pants on fire" energy.

Bob's Bevvy of Beauties

Mid morning - nothing.

I call mum. "Listen, don't come at lunchtime. He hasn't even flipped the hay yet. So if it does happen today it will happen later. I don't want to call and hassle him. I'll let you know."

"Ok", mum is very understanding.

And then the calvalcade rolls in. First the raking tractor. No flipping required. Soon afterwards the baler. One tractor follows the other a few laps apart. The ute, the truck and the loading arm are on standby in the adjacent paddock. Another ute and tractor are in the adjacent paddock, picking up the round bales. Each tractor is driven by a beautiful girl, smiling in the sunshine. Bob sits on his quad bike supervising.

What we don't see, but we do know, is that Bob's Bevvy of Beauties extends right back to the farmhouse, where R is probably very busy feeding the haying brigade.

I ring my mum. "Ok. We might do one truckful before dinner, but we'll take Sabina with us. Then we will go to the pub for dinner. Can you meet us back at the farm at 8pm?"

"We'll be there", she says.

In the meantime, someone had loaded the truck. I help Pete unload the 80 odd bales. We wash up, and go for dinner at the pub, loading up on protein.

After dinner mum and dad look after Sabina, while we collect our precious hay. The loading arm is fantastic. Sometimes the bales are so close together that they end up on the ramp one after another, 5 at a time. I hear them drop onto the truck with a thud as Pete fails to keep up with the workload. And I'm barely idling forward.

The hay is very rich this year and we cough and sneeze constantly.

Finally, at 2am the work is done. 308 bales put away in the shed, another 108 sitting on the truck for Bob. 100 bales already at Bob's. 80 bales still sitting in the paddock. That makes approximately 600 bales.

Drying

We're expecting a tractor any minute to come and flip the hay. We run over to the front of the house regularly and check. Nothing. The cut grass lies drying in the sun.

Bob's Cutting

When mum and dad left yesterday, they gazed at the long grass in the haying paddock, and promised to return at haying time.

Today, we are woken by the noise of the tractor. Pete and I run to the window, and stick our noses to the glass in the same manner as Sabina awaiting Santa. Our neighbour, Bob, is cutting his top paddock. We're next!

I ring mum and dad to tell them the good news. We'll be making hay within the next three days. They're on standby.

Sure enough, after lunch, the tractor enters our paddock, and the grass tumbles down, as though struck by a sickle. But hey, if that's Bob on the tractor, then he's become much younger, and grown a cute little goatie. Oh, and who's that sexy babe in the yellow top riding the tractor with him?

Meanwhile, another tractor is flipping the hay in Bob's top paddock. The driver is sporting a pigtail, and a red singlet with spagetti straps. That's not Bob either.

Then we notice the red quad bike. Bob is standing next to it, arms crossed against his chest, at least 4 dogs yapping around him. He's busily supervising his "bevvy of beauties".

In the evening the phone grows hot. I call Bob, and he confirms he will bale us on Tuesday. Then I call mum and we speculate on the time.

Boxing Day guests

Guests arrive. Namely, my parents and their friends. My mum brings more pots than burners on a stove, and very soon the entire kitchen is bubbling, while mum is chopping a salad. Sheesh!

We sit down to a very festive lunch. Mum's turkey, naturally, is perfect. I catch up on that half baked advice, and get my 1000 questions answered.

Sabina participates in the conversation as though there was no age difference. Once finished, she dances around in her princess dress and tiara.

After lunch we go for a walk in the state forest. I manage to convince the guests that we can do a little loop. So off we go. Commenting on the long grass (yet to be cut hay) in the paddocks as we walk along Carol road. Admiring the tall pines lining Invert track. Revelling in the stillness and serenity of the valley. Then huffing and puffing up PP2 track.

Upon our return the guests groan as we offer dessert. We finish off by singing Christmas carols in the evening.

The Christmas turkey

I have decided to brave making a turkey for Christmas this year. I've taken my mum's advice and am doing legs and breasts, rather than the whole bird. As usual my mum gave some other advice, half of which I've forgotten, and half of which is unprecise and leaves me with a 1000 unanswered questions. In the meantime, the family keeps hanging around like bush flies, wondering when's lunch.

Eventually, for better or worse the bird is in the oven, and I prepare veggies while basting religously every 20 minutes. The basting causes me grief. Every time I open the oven, pull the foil off, and baste, the oven loses temperature. The good housewife probably does it with such speed that it doesn't matter. Not so me. And so I worry whether to increase the temperature to compensate for my clumsiness.

We set a festive table, white tablecloth, fine china, silverware, napkins, candles and bon bons. Out come the turkey, potatoes, veggies and salad. The taste test ... it's edible, but you just about need a steak knife to carve it! Total failure. Although Sabina manages to put most of the leg away with relative ease. Pete munches on the dry meat in silence, fastidiously avoiding the stuffing, and supplementing with lots of cranberry sauce. The stuffing is the only part that's delicious!

Opening presents, and dessert make up for lost ground.

The Princess

Someone apparently saw a flash of red outside, and now Sabina sits at the window, nose pressed to the glass, in the hope to see Santa. Then on the other side of the house there is a knock on the door. "Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas". The door slams shut.

Sabina runs the length of the house. There's no Santa, but on the patio there is a huge sack full of presents. Sabina runs outside. It appears that Santa and his sleigh have already gone.
We bring the sack inside, and Sabina opens her first present. It's a blue princess dress with a tiara.

"Wow!", squeals the little girl with glee, eyes sparkling. "This is just what I wanted!" She gazes lovingly in the direction where Santa had left the sack. Of course her Christmas eve dress is dumped by the wayside, and for the rest of the evening we enjoy the presence of this dainty little princess in a blue dress and a tiara.

Oh Christmas Tree

Today we go to our local supplier and pick a Christmas tree. We pick the nice bushy one, that's not too tall.

When we get home, Pete puts it in the Christmas tree stand, and checks the height. Ooops. We have to cut about 75cm off. When that's done, we aim it at the dooreway. Oh dear, it's a tight squeeze.

Finally it's inside and we dress it up. It takes up almost a quarter of the room. We admire it from the far corner. It looks fantastic, and smells great. But I am left wondering why we make this mistake every year - we think we've got the right size tree, and then when we bring it inside it's far bigger than expected.

Still ... it looks great.

The path

For months we've been making preparations for the path around the farmhouse. Finally it went in during the week, and this morning I get a good view of it in daylight.

Oh dear. It's the wrong colour. I mean ... it's probably the colour we chose, but it's not the colour in the colour chart, and it's not a great match for the house. If I was one of those rich people, I would rip it up and start again. But I'm not rich, and I have to live with it.

The path itself actually looks good. But it transforms the house from a farm house into ... well not quite a castle, because a castle would have a moat, but into something reasonably sofisticated.

So much for us being farmers. More like city slickers in farm clothes. Ughh.

Still five

We drive into Warragul today and visit a couple of shops. Sabina runs up to the counter and calls out "I'm five! I'm FIVE!". The staff behind the counter try to conceal their laughter.

She puts a finger in the air. There is a band aid on it. "Look, I've got a band aid! And I'm five! I'm FIVE!". Grins all around. "And do you know what's under the band aid?", she continues. The shop assistant shakes her head politely. Sabina looks at her seriously. "Sneaky, nasty blood!".

As we leave the shop, Sabina skips and dances, chanting, "I'm five! I'm FIVE!".

The performance is repeated at every shop we visit.