FWAW RECAP EPISODE 7 - Let's Finish This Fairytale Already

Episode 7 – Let’s Finish This Fairytale Already…

I’ve just been watching that kid Fletcher on Australia’s Got Talent as I wait for this season finale to end. I’m actually, seriously, bawling my eyes out… not just because this kid is AMAZING, but because I know my television standards are about to drop significantly in the next 5 minutes. Clearly I’m tired.

There’s no time to dwell on this though, as FWAW is starting – and THANK GOODNESS it only took us 7 episodes to get here! Woohoo!

Bring it on…

Sam talks about how over the last 10 years this show has helped some of the ‘loneliest on the land’ (debatable) find true love. She also makes reference to these 6 ELIGIBLE Bush bachies. Ugh. This makes me so cranky. Eligible HOW? Massive mortgages? Or living off their in laws? Or what? It’s a stereotype that infuriates me. C’mon Sam… you should’ve argued that one. You know better. Tut tut.

Ahhhh we've all come so far!

Last Morning on The Farm:

Lance: Still thinking. Oh god. This is going to be just as painful as I think it will be…

Adam: Needs more alone time… *yawn*

Matt: Gabby is a hot mess. Promo Model (ahhh… so that’s what a Brand Ambassador really is) Aprilis sad too. Both girls cry on their drive back to… well… wherever. Matt is left contemplating life on the farm with no girls.

Jedd: He’s ‘keeping his emotion down’. Jedd has come such a long way. There is discussion about his ‘first favourite’ Sam (so what does that made photographer Kerry? Second favourite?) GASP – Kerry is unsure of her feelings though. This is obviously some editing code for something… but I am too tired to give a shit figure it out.

Julz: He has a fave – Mel. Alex is the good sport third wheel who stands idly by as Julz and Mel have a long and painfully sweet goodbye. Alex declares that Julz is batting above his average. Lots of ‘L word’ and kisses.

Girls are Gone:

The boys all have a week to decide who is their happily ever after.

Let’s Finish This Fairytale:

We head straight into the reunion in the Hunter Valley. This is all happening a month later. There’s lots of beer and cheers and… Lachie… who is still on this show too. Apparently. Sam enters and takes…

Julz: Sam starts by asking what Julz was hoping to get out of this experience? And Julz answers by giving the Donald Trump answer to ‘a wife’. We flash to the city break and see that Mel lives by the sea. Well done mate. Holidays at the coast from now until eternity. There’s lots of feel good tv. Kissing and butterflies and love. It’s ‘the start of something amazing.’ Sam asks to bring her out…

Mel emerges resplendent in pink. They kiss and poor Sam realises she is now the third wheel. Lots of love and then Julz can now go brag to the boys that he is a winner.

The cuteness!

Jedd: Sam asks about his date with Sam. Jedd says it was ‘amazing’, and then goes on to list all the amazing qualities about Kerry too. He decides to follow his heart, and so he chooses… (flash to city visit)…

KERRY??? WTF??? She is doing some kind of martial arts, and Jedd probably only chose her because he feared for his safety otherwise. They do some high tea date that is just awkward after awkward. My hot tip Jedd, is that if you have feelings for BOTH OF THEM at this stage, it probably isn’t going to work out. There is some awkward touching and then…

Sam asks if Jedd has invited anyone, and all of a sudden things become clearer… down the stairs comes SAM! Oh the sneaky sneaky shenanigans that go on behind the scenes at Channel 10.

Sam asks Sam how she feels about being chosen second Jedd meeting up with Kerry in the city, and Sam gives an answer not dissimilar to the one Louise gave to the press when Love Rat Blake Garvey ditched his first choice for her after the show on The Batchelor. Sam says she understands why he did it, and adds something about his cheeky sense of humour (followed by a lip rub – weird!). They say they enjoy each other’s company, and it looks like there is some real emotion there. Too early to tell for sure though.

Jedd with his first favourite...

Lachie: We are reminded again of his abysmal failure is all things dating in the past, but Lachie assures us that he is now closer to knowing what he needs. (Perhaps a vagina and a heartbeat?). He assures us that he has real chemistry with Belinda, and she is here… looking amazing too. They cozy up on the couch, and there is much ‘sense of humour’ and ‘chemistry’. Belinda says she loves the farm and is planning her next farm visit… unless it sells… right? (I know, I know… they are keeping the house and a tiny bit of land right?)

Jedd declares that Belinda is “bloody cool”. Nice one.

I'm still unconvinced... fingers crossed for Belinda though!

We are told that there is a SHOCK CONFESSION after the break that NO ONE SAW COMING… so it’s almost certainly going to be something else….

Lance: Talks about his overwhelming journey… boring boring… he chooses Lisa. She jumps all over him. He declares he is a mad salt man. And then….

LANCE DIDN’T BRING ANYONE HERE!

SHOCK HORROR!

Actually… Lisa IS there… but not on the couch.

We flash to earlier that day out in the vineyard. Lance confesses (only AFTER Lisa reminds him of her open heart) that he doesn’t have a full connection with her. He has no goosebumps. Lisa looks sad. She will live though…

I’m just not sure what Lance wants? At a guess I’d say he wants a rough around the edges worker who will keep him warm on those cold and lonely rodeo nights. He announces he is still looking for love.

The boys all insist that women will be knocking on his door.

Who could resist this face?

Okay….

Adam: Sam announces that Adam (although the baby of the bunch) has been the most sincere in his search for love. Yep. That cooking test was a true indicator of how life on the farm will really be. We get the pros and cons of Taryn and Hayley… He said life on the farm isn’t the same without his special someone. There is a slight avoidance of the ‘L word’.

We flash to Adam heading to a cool Sydney apartment to choose… HAYLEY!!! She has two dogs and they feel ‘cute’ together. They have never kissed before though, and Hayley declares that she wants to ‘start from the beginning and get to know each other all over again’ (clever girl). They kiss. They look very comfortable together, and I hope it works out for them.

Maybe Hayley will finally get around to that butchery course now!

Matt: This entire episode has been geared for this moment. Who did he choose? Gabby or April??? Gabby was ‘amazing’ and April (a tomboy in a beautiful package) ‘gets him’.

We flash to another area by the sea… and see… APRIL. She announces they are going to meet the family. There is skateboarding and a family gathering and Matt is lapping it up. They seem really at ease.

April walks down the stairs and there is loads of hand holding and cuddles. She is extremely comfortable around him and talks about how he ‘doesn’t realise how amazing he is’. Awww. Sweet.

                                       

Sam asks how this is going to work? They both admit they have spoken about it and now APRIL IS MOVING TO THE FARM NEXT WEEK! Wow… talk about moving along quickly. I guess when you know you know. I’d also imagine that leaving ‘Brand Ambassadorial-ship’ is easier than walking away from say, teaching. There is lots of love in the air. They throw the word around freely, and admit that they are confident this farmer has found a wife.

Their children will have amazing teeth!

THE END… sort of.

So apparently only three couples are still together. Any guesses on who it would be? Does anyone know? Who do you think? I’m going to say that Matt, Julz and Adam are still together with their ladies. Also - Ten bucks says Gabby was the one who spilled her guts to The Courier Mail today about broken hearts and ruined lives.

The McClymont Sister sing a song together and all the loved up couples dance and kiss.

THE END!

*drops mic and walks off*

Valentines Day Thoughts

Valentine’s Day

Valentine’s Day is just around the corner. Apparently love is supposed to be in the air, and everyone loves a good love story. And by ‘everyone’ I mean ‘I do’. Farmers (generally speaking – and I’m definitely up to you writing to me and proving me wrong) aren’t known for their repetitive romantic gestures.

I love my own love story. City girl meets country boy. It’s text book. We got engaged one Easter when my family were out visiting. The Farmer and I went for a walk out to inspect the empty house dams – completely decimated by the long term drought. As we sat there and discussed how awful things were as a result of the ongoing dry seasons, The Farmer reflected that if I could stand to see this place at its worst, then I would surely love it at its best. We discussed how things could only get better, and he asked me to marry him. There was no message written in the sky, or elaborate flash-mob dance concluding in a romantic proposal. There wasn’t even a bended knee (it probably would have ended in a burr infection in the joint anyway) or even a ring. That came later. But it was special to us, and certainly memorable.

I’ve also written before about some of the romantic gestures The Farmer has shown me over the years. He built me a grid, knowing how much I loathed getting the gate every day. He once remembered me telling someone how much I loved picnics, and bought me my own picnic blanket and basket set and took me on a picnic lunch one weekend. These are only two examples, but I think they summarise The Farmer’s romantic nature nicely. It’s business as usual on a farm.

I once read a book about the ‘Five Love Languages’. (The languages being words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts, quality time and physical touch). The Farmer is definitely an ‘acts of kindness’ kind of guy; the grid, the picnic, our garden. I’m probably more of a ‘words of affirmation’ and ‘quality time’ kind of girl. Our different love languages have caused plenty of fireworks over the years.

Even though I’m a hopeless romantic, I’m not a huge fan of Valentine’s Day. It’s truly just another day around here. There’s no big dinner in town, no flowers, no gifts, not even a Hallmark card. It’s completely unnecessary around here. Acts of service, words of affirmation and quality time and do happen at any time of year. Instead of celebrating with gifts, The Farmer will head off at day break and make his way back at sunset, with some time at home for lunch. We will have dinner as a family and celebrate each other. Just like we do most other days.

Do you have a romantic story to share? Head over to my Facebook page to share! “The Farmer’s Wife”. I’m also on Instagram: @jessthefarmerswife and Twitter: @jessfarmerswife

Season for Celebrations!

It’s The Celebration Season!

It’s November! And hallelujah, because the birthday season is upon us here on the farm. And by us, I mean Mr 7 and myself. So I suppose it’s not really a ‘birthday season’ as such, but rather a busy time of year where all sorts of celebrations are upon us, and as such, I occasionally feel like my birthday celebrations drag out for a few weeks at a time.

Last week was Halloween. We don’t celebrate it here on the farm, mostly because the logistics of it are a nightmare unto themselves. The scariest part of trick or treating would be the good hour or more spent driving around in the pathetic bid to trap the nearest five unsuspecting families into handing over their goodies. And given where we live, I’m assuming by ‘goodies’ we would be receiving scones or biscuits left in waiting for uninvited guests. And the cost of fuel itself would actually be the most horrific part of this freakish event. Instead we headed to a Halloween themed Disco for the kids. Much less scary for mummy.

This week Mr 6 turned 7. I pride myself on making my children birthday cakes that are fun and interesting. This is a tradition passed onto me from my own mother. This year there was a request for an ‘army’ themed ‘camouflage cake’.

The finished product!

 

After the original one stuck to the pan it was so camouflaged it didn’t even look like a cake. It didn’t stop me though. The second attempt was much better, and now we have a camouflaged cake AND trifle.

This week was also the Melbourne Cup. I was working, though my colleagues still managed to put on quite a lunch, and we all dressed up which is always fun!

Next week it’s my birthday. The Farmer isn’t big on birthdays, and that hasn’t really stopped me from celebrating in the past, but this year it doesn’t matter. Next week we are heading to the city to see a concert with some friends, so it’s a win-win for everyone.

After that it seems that the end of year celebrations all start to kick off with a vengeance. Work break up parties, club events, school presentations and *gasp* Christmas gatherings all start to snowball.

I do love a good celebration though. Any excuse will do. I’m off to dust off my heels and straighten out my party frocks.

What events do you have on the horizon? Let me know on facebook!

Country Adventure an Eye Opener for Boarders

A Country Adventure

 

Recently we had a group of students from a Brisbane Boarding School come to visit. Every year my mother (who is Head of Boarding) brings a group out to give them something of a country adventure. They stay in our shearer’s quarters, which are comfortable, but certainly not 5-star.

Some of the girls live on properties themselves, and appreciate the visit to somebody else’s place. For them it is a comparative experience.

“Our place hasn’t had rain for four years, so your place looks greener.”

“Our shearing quarters are a bit different to yours.”

“We have wheat at our place.”

Some of the girls are city girls who have never visited the country and are keen to see what it is all about. They’ve heard snippets from their friends and are eager to see it for themselves.

And some of the girls are international students who are about to have their minds blown. The size, the landscape (flat and desolate), the animals, the heat, the flies…

“Are you having fun Sarah?”

“I think so.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s amazing! But there are so many flies…”

And then finally, “This is so much fun! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

This year the girls were able to visit a farm that was harvesting wheat. They were able to go on a ride on a Header, and learn all about wheat production. At our place I showed them through the shearing shed. I explained how it all happens and what it looks, sounds and smells like when the shearers are in full swing. We talked about shearers, and contractors and Merino sheep. Most girls began to understand the process of something they didn’t even know existed until their visit out here.

We also took them to Lightning Ridge, an opal mining town only a few hours drive from home. They learned about opal mining, met some interesting characters and even saw the water park (an amazing place to visit in the summer that was entirely funded by the people of Lightning Ridge themselves).

They saw the small school that my own children attend, and it is only after the first day or so that you can see the pieces all fitting together in their minds. There is a whole world out there that is completely different to the ones they may come from. They are frightened, intrigued and ultimately mesmerised by the country, including the most hardened of students.

 

Even without an internet connection, air conditioning and unlimited access to water, they ALL still managed to have an incredible experience. It is a combination of the people, the animals, the knowledge and the landscapes that make this such a memorable trip for these girls. It’s such a wonderful opportunity, and I’m both excited and proud to be a part of the experience.

Farmer Speak

Farmer-speak

Last week I spoke about the things my children (and specifically my mini-me) say. As I am writing this piece on Father’s Day I have been thinking about some of the funny things I’ve heard The Farmer (and probably most country folk) say.

1. “Up the road” – This could mean any place between where you are standing at the point of conversation, to some place still in the state (or even interstate if you live close to the border). Eg: “We went to a party up the road on the weekend. We drove for almost a day to get there, but it was definitely worth it.”

2. “A few days ago” – Any time between a few days ago up until approximately a year ago. This is definitely a Farmer favourite. Eg: “Remember I spoke to you about that a few days ago?” “That was like, four months ago.” “Yeah.”

3. “Old mate” – Anyone. Absolutely anyone. Male or female, your guess is as good as mine. This one often leaves me truly stumped.  Eg: “I ran into old mate when I was in town. He said to say hello.”

4. “Later” – Any time between an hour and never. Often refers to jobs that need doing inside the house. There is literally a 50/50 chance or less that ‘later’ will ever actually happen. Eg: “Can you fix the door in the kids bedroom please?” “I’ll do it later.”

5. “She’ll be right” – It’s all good. I have this under control. As much certainty as I’m likely to get out of The Farmer. “Eg: “Do you need a hand tying that tourno down?” “Nah. She’ll be right, mate.”

6. “When it rains” – Any time between here and eternity. Often used to give an estimate on when you will be able to do something. The sad thing is that so much of our lives out here revolve around the weather, and Mother Nature marches to the beat of her own drum. Eg: “We’re hoping to do renovations when it rains.”

People, places and times in the bush are all fluid things. Sometimes it helps to have a bit of an imagination (and a fair grasp of the English language) to understand farmer-speak. Without the assistance of an actual translator, I am thoroughly enjoying the guessing game in the meantime.
Do you have any that you would add to the list? Let us know!

Spring Has Sprung!

Spring has sprung

I don’t care what the actual dates on the calendar say, I’m telling you Spring is well and truly here. I know this because I woke up a week ago with an itchy throat, red and itchy eyes, a runny nose and uncontrollable sneezing, and put it down to being the aftermath of the EKKA. And then it got worse, and I realised that it wasn’t a cold, it was much, much worse indeed.

For anyone who has never suffered from hay fever, let me tell you that it’s the serious pits! It’s a solid month (at least!) of sneezing and red and itchy eyes and generally frustrating cold-like symptoms. It’s waking up at night and not being able to get any relief at all from the symptoms until you pop another anti-histamine. (Yay for anti-histamines!)

My symptoms worsened after I had children. (There’s something you don’t sign up for when you have kids!) I live on a property loaded with Cyprus Pine. We have one particularly large pine tree out the front of our house, directly in front of my bedroom window. Every year at this time I reach a psychological breaking point and threaten to get out a chainsaw and cut the tree down  - like any completely rational person would; it’s usually sometime between large gusts of pollen flying through the air in August, to the final pollen drops in September. The crazy woman in me can think of nothing better than dropping that pollen-dropping tree to the ground and sawing it into a million pieces. And then The Farmer reminds me that in order to improve my hay fever I’m going to have to get out and cover 20000 acres and remove all the other pine trees as well. It’s a lose-lose situation. Also (in related news), Cyprus Pine is too fast burning to be decent fire wood anyway…

 

My Kryptonite!

 

Thankfully I know I’m not alone. Mr B next door suffers hay fever too. Harvesting wheat in a Cyprus Pine environment isn’t his cup of tea either for a few weeks each year.

So whilst there may not be any new shoots on our winter-stripped trees at the moment, I know that they aren’t far away at all. The Cyprus Pines never lie, and I find that I’m already looking forward to October. Bring on the end of all the pollen.

 

5 Things Country Boys Should Know About Bringing A City Girl Home

Last week I wrote about the ten essential items that a girl should bring with her on her journey into the outback, if she finds herself heading there for a bloke. It got me thinking… what things would be considered ‘essential’ knowledge for any guy bringing a girl to live on the farm with him?

In no particular order:

1.      You will need to turn a blind eye to the high number of packages now gracing the mailbox due to the influx of online shopping. You may also need to learn not to question the mad dash to the mailbox on mail days by the new female addition, as she races to hide the extent of online shopping addiction. Also, ‘it was on sale’, and ‘that old thing’ signal the end of a discussion.

2.      Closely linked to Number 1; provide sympathy (usually in the form of wine or chocolate) when internet access fails miserably in accordance with the new female’s high expectations of anticipated internet access. This will become more obvious when above mentioned online purchases cannot be made as a result of internet disappointments. Also stock your fridge with chocolate and wine. Seriously.

3.      Be mindful of the fact that the new female is not your mother or your grandmother. Her cooking may not live up to the high standards set by generations of bush women before her. There is every conceivable chance your smoko could be served out of the packet, and not the oven. (To be honest, I have made friends with the oven over the years, so this may change down the track). Also her cleaning skills may not be what you are used to either, but just ‘smile and wave’ in spite of this. You will make her day if she thinks you appreciate the effort.

4.      Teaching the new female to change a tyre would be giving her an invaluable life skill. It is a skill that she will definitely need over the years and that will see her out of many difficult situations. Of course there is every conceivable chance that she won’t listen. Like me. And thankfully country chivalry has paid off… so remember your country chivalry when you see a lady in distress on the side of the road; you know, just in case she doesn’t listen either.

5.      Provide the new female with appropriate headgear, footwear and clothing until she can adequately provide her own. I turned up out here with a small selection of caps (no wide brimmed, serious sun protection headgear), an array of synthetic clothing (only a small selection of which were practical for anything other than classroom teaching), and a large collection of sandals and flip-flop thongs. Thankfully I was able to borrow from The Farmer’s sister and mother until I was serious about sticking around, and purchased my own farm gear.

I started writing this piece with ten items in mind, but as it continued I found that the male species led much simpler lives than females and only ‘five things to remember’ would be essential. And after writing my last piece I realised that I could easily have written about the twenty most essential items a girl could bring with a farm to her. Us females are funny like that, unlike our male counterparts it would seem.

 

The Care Package

What are the essentials a young girl needs when she first leaves the bright lights of the city to move to the middle of nowhere to live on a farm to be closer to a Farmer?

This was put to me earlier this week, and after putting a call out on my Facebook page, I have compiled a list of the most essential items to take with you on your foray onto a farm.

In no particular order:

1. Bug spray. Especially fly spray. And if you can find one that either sprays automatically, or one of those electric zapper fancy-schmancy ones, even better. (And mouse traps too. Yuck.)

2. A subscription to Queensland’s premier rural newspaper, the QCL. (If not just for the Horoscope page, it is also a great source of information for people with an interest in all things ‘country’.)

The Horoscope page in the QCL is my personal favourite... if I do say so myself...

3. A laminated copy of a map of the property. Oh the times I could have used one of those in the beginning. Or even recently. Okay… it’s still very handy. I keep about 3 copies around our place… and one in the car.

4. The local publican’s number. You will be able to find almost anyone you are chasing at this number. Or someone who knows the whereabouts of the person you are chasing. Unlike other businesses in town, they will happily part with this information.

5. Hand cream. You can kiss goodbye to baby smooth skin.

6. A shovel. The legal equivalent of a shot gun. You’ll know why you need it, as soon as you need it.

7. Alcohol and chocolate – very handy for those moments when the internet is on the blink and or the power is out: which will happen. Frequently. And trust me, you want to have this in spades at home. It’s a long way into town if you’re short on your supply.

8. Gumboots and Napisan. It doesn’t always rain, but when it does, you’ll know all about it. Especially if you live on red soil; hence the Napisan. Also, don’t pack white. It has a short shelf life out here.

9. A good hat and sunscreen. You’ve never encountered real sun until you’ve headed out into some of those far flung places in Australia.

10. A beer stubby. It’s worse than hot for about 8 months of the year out here. You’ll be happier with a cold beverage.

House Dog vs Working Dog

There has been much discussion around these parts over the last few years about the purpose of certain dogs. We are top heavy when it comes to working dogs, and I have been a fierce activist for (what The Farmer calls) ‘lap dogs’ for as long as I can remember.

I grew up with a series of small dogs who were all much loved members of our family. My favourite one was a Jack Russell called ‘Tebo’, who I received for my birthday when I was in Year 5, and who I said goodbye to a month before I married at the age of 26. He was the dog who kept on living, and after him I couldn’t bring myself to get another small dog.

We usually run an average of about 10 dogs at any given time on The Farm. They are not all ours. Some belong to my in-laws, and others to The Farmer’s brother. Some are older and more experienced, some are better at yard work and others being out in the paddock mustering. Some are being trained up, and others are in retirement, but essentially, they are all sheep dogs and kelpies: working dogs. They all serve an important farm purpose. We love all of them, but they are not ‘curl up on your lap and have a sleep’ members of the family.

And then two years ago, after very powerful lobbying on my part, we introduced Gypsy (a Jack Russell) to the family. The Farmer was not instantly impressed. He often lamented the point of a dog that doesn’t serve a purpose. The purpose (I argued) is to teach us about true love and affection. To help us learn about loss (after she dies) and to bring us laughter and joy in the meantime.

 

 

Two years later and Gypsy is a bona fide member of our family. She is very protective, and a great snake dog. She barks when they are around and saw us through a few close calls this summer just gone. She joins us on trips in the car. She likes to be out on the property, surveying sheep and kangaroos and emus. She potters around the garden with Granny on the days when we can’t be at home with her, and she has found a special place in all of our hearts in the meantime. She’s not great at yard work, and she doesn’t have a head for mustering. But she is lovely company around the house, and that can be just as important as any other purpose a dog can serve.

The Long Drive West

The drive west always seems so much further than the drive east. At least for visitors. Maybe that’s why they do it so sporadically. To be fair, it’s always further for me as well. Although I love heading home, the thought of ‘getting away’ seems to make that drive east always go a little bit faster.

My brother and sister both came out to visit with their young families on the Queen’s Birthday long weekend. I always get so excited about having visitors to the farm for a number of reasons.

Before visitors arrive I love getting my house clean. Like really clean. Like scrubbing the glass on the windows and pulling hair out of the shower clean. I love baking and organising the pantry so that there will be plenty of food to go around. I can’t bear the thought of visitors thinking we go without because of where we live, so I always make sure there will be enough to go around. I always ensure we eat a variety of home grown meat with our visitors. We are incredibly proud of what we produce on the farm. And as city slickers, my brother and sister are always grateful for lamb they don’t have to pay for.

I organise an array of activities showcasing our fantastic local region. Before children, it was a day trip to the local winery. These days it’s a trip to The Ridge to see underground mines and hot springs. In the summer we all lounge outside by the pool, and in winter we head out in a farm vehicle to show the children sheep and kangaroos and emus. Preferably the live ones.

My brother arrived late Friday and stated that a friend of his from the city had told him that ‘if The Farmer asks you to help him out with fencing this weekend, you’re not really his friend.’ So fencing was out. But what about stick picking? We can always do with a bit of that – especially in the winter – and the more hands on deck the better. But as the cold snap kicked on over the weekend, it was wine and beer by the fireplace instead.

On Monday morning I was left with that hollow feeling you get when something really good comes to an end. As we waved my family off in their cars, I wondered if this is how my parents feel when we all pack up and head back to the farm?

And now that the weekend is over and I have packed up all the spare beds and moved the furniture, I can rest easy knowing that it will be some time before I have to go through all that effort again, all thanks to that long drive west.

 

 

Food Connoisseurs

I’m not the world’s best cook. It’s safe to say that there won’t be any cook books coming out of this little chicken any time soon. And I live with a family of food connoisseurs.

The Farmer is fairly accommodating. He is fairly happy to see any food cooked for him, and will (mostly) eat anything I serve up and be grateful for it. Except for my ‘special nachos’; he can’t stomach them at all. This is only a shame because it is also the children’s favourite meal. It’s loaded with salad and guacamole and meat, and The Farmer said he has just eaten it too many times to stomach it any more.

Mr 6 doesn’t like my roasts. Or any roasts. I’ve explained to him that this is a farmer staple, but he still won’t come to the party. He’s a sausage man from way back.

Miss 8 is fairly accommodating of my cooking. She isn’t a fan of chicken, but will eat almost everything else. Yesterday we were out walking and she explained to me that she suffers from guilt when eating fruit. She loves fruit, so this surprised me. I asked what she meant and she explained that she imagines that the bigger {mandarins} are the parents and the smaller ones are the children. She said she feels like she is killing them when she eats them.  I asked if she felt the same way when eating meat (which really does have to die in order to be eaten), and she said that eating meat doesn’t bother her at all. She’s a funny child.

Miss 10 is my fruit bat. She will eat whatever is put in front of her. Unless it is McDonalds or any other fast food outlet food. And I know I should celebrate that, but on the long drive to the city, the convenience of those food outlets is incredible.

I always prefer cooking to eating. Once I’ve spent time preparing something (and usually sampling as I go), it rarely holds any interest for me when it comes to eating. I am always so excited to eat food that has been prepared for me by someone else.

For now I will stick to my day job. I am better at teaching and mothering than I am at cooking. We all eat well, but I’m not setting out to win any medals. There’s plenty of time for improvement.

Easter and the Great Plagues

Easter has come and gone and thankfully we survived. The lead up is usually as crazy as the lead up to Christmas, and this year was really no different. It was full of plagues and planning and tired and cranky children and parents. We’re not a huge church going family – we’re lucky to make it there for weddings, funerals, Easter and Christenings. And this weekend we managed to combine two of them. (Easter and a Christening). It was the icing on an otherwise chaotic week.

I’m sure that somewhere in the Bible it speaks of the great plagues. I’m almost certain we have three of them at home at the moment.

Before Easter I usually hide a great stash of chocolate in anticipation of the big event. Knowing we have a few mice around at the moment I was especially careful about this. And then as the big night descended upon us, I opened my stash only to learn that mice had somehow managed to find their way into several items! I was horrified (and also thankful for the spares). The Easter Bunny also had to deny the request from the children for an egg hunt (other than a few little cue cards leading them to the refrigerator) as the thought of mice chasing chocolate throughout the house makes my skin crawl.

On top of mice, we also have rabbits. And crickets. We live at the Hayman Island for rabbits at the moment. They are everywhere. Rabbits and crickets (or grasshoppers?). It’s enough to send a former city-girl like myself a little stir-crazy. The noise, the movement, the damage. Maybe those aren’t three of the plagues mentioned in the Bible, but I did say that we aren’t a huge church going family.

Anyone who lives in rural areas will tell you that the ‘plagues’ all pass. They are always replaced by the next plague, and some are far worse – or better – than others, and occasionally you are lucky enough to have a reprieve from all of them. Right now I am inundated with critters I could live without and it’s taking its toll on me. If anyone asks me what I’ve been up to lately, it seems like a cop out to say ‘eradicating mice’, but you really have to see it to believe the hard work and determination it takes to have a minor win here!

Thankfully we spent most of the Easter weekend at home. It meant a few days of relaxing with the family.

And then it rained.

Five inches of bacon saving liquid gold. We were lucky, although sadly others are still waiting their turn. Such is the way of nature. We celebrated our own little win by running through puddles and taking photos. The only way we know how.

 

 

Like Christmas, Easter can be a stressful time, however the rain certainly took a lot of the pressure off at home. It meant we could stay inside and hang out over a movie or a puzzle. And more than eradicating pests and stressing over another big day, we got to spend it as a family with friends and relatives we love, and that’s really what Easter is all about to me anyway.

 

The Long Drive

As I have started submitting a column in the Queensland Country Life, I thought I would start posting the articles that are published on here, with the addition of pictures, so that you can see what and where I am talking about.

 

. . .

I had been dating The Farmer for about a week when he invited me out to the farm to see shearing in action. They were winding up the following week and so I had to decide quickly.

I explained to my boss about how shearing was finishing up that week and how I may never have the opportunity to see it again. The Principal agreed that it was a worthwhile occasion, and I completed all the relevant paperwork to take Friday afternoon off work.

The Farmer gave me the easiest directions to the shearing shed. They weren't necessarily the quickest directions, but they were by far the least complicated ones, and as this was to be my first foray into the world that was 'country driving', we agreed that this was for the best. The Farmer told me to pack my 'work clothes' for the trip.

Friday came around faster than I expected. I had put aside a pair of jeans (new) and a check shirt I had borrowed. Neither were what I would classify as 'work clothes', but as my 'work clothes' mostly consisted of dress skirts and pants and blouses, this was foreign ground for me. It would have to do. I left work at 1pm, and tried to recall the directions as I drove.

I was busy concentrating on counting the grids (was it six or seven I was supposed to cross?). I couldn't believe that I was driving on a 'road' with grids! Soon I had been driving for over an hour and I was starting to fret about the definite possibility that I was lost. In the very likely event of that happening I would either be forced to drink my own urine or eat a kangaroo carcass in order to survive before anybody would EVER find my fully dehydrated and emaciated body on this road to nowhere. For all I knew, I was already a goner. The road was less than ordinary. It was too far from anywhere, and I was really starting to wonder if The Farmer was even worth all this effort. Surely this couldn't be the road he lived on? It was rough. Pot holes were scattered haphazardly from one side to the other. The corrugation left me sore and tingly. I couldn't imagine myself driving on this road on a permanent basis. This would probably be my first and last visit to the farm.

 

Example of a corrugated road.

 

Just as I was about to give up and turn around, there it was in front of me. Across the roof of the shearing shed, clearly visible from the road, was The Farm. I visibly relaxed. I had survived, and was then able to see shearing in all of its magnificence, all explained to me by The Farmer.  It’s something I still love to see all these years later, I just don’t have to take time off work to do it anymore.

 

The Farmer doing his thing. Worth the drive!

 

I’ve also come to realise that it’s not the journey (all corrugated and long), but the destination that matters anyway.

 

Careers that might have assisted me in my transition to Farmer's Wife...

Whilst we all know that being a wife doesn’t require any previous education and training as such, there are a few careers that might have made my baptism of fire into the role, a little more calm in the beginning. (Or even now, truth be told).

As I am a teacher, The Farmer has often reminded me that I am the ‘drought relief’. It’s an inside joke around farming parts that you will always be the source of income, regardless of the weather, when you are a teacher, and as such, you are a catch of sorts. Of course, it’s all just fun and games. Any job off farm is almost certainly appreciated, however many wome have found that they are more useful (and perhaps better contibuters) by not working off-farm. Whatever floats your boat.

In all seriousness, teachers and nurses (and medical specialists) are prime candidates for snagging a farmer. New girls in farming towns are always the recipients of lots of male attention. And every year brings with it a new swag of female teachers and nurses.

Over the years I’ve often thought that being a teacher would be handy if you had to ever home school your kids. Thankfully I don’t. I HAVE attempted it during floods, when we’ve been stuck at home for a number of weeks. But I take my hat off to women who manage to educate their children at home. You are a breed of women who I could only ever aspire to be like. I found it to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Whilst being a teacher enables me to better understand curriculum, nothing prepares you for the test of endurance you undergo on a daily basis as a mother AND a home educator.

Being a nurse might have also been handy. If you could earn frequent flyer points from calling 13HEALTH, I would be able to fly around the world several times for free. I’ve become quite adept at diagnosing my kids over the years. Mothers everywhere develop that same level of medical ability at some point, but geez it would have been handy over the last few years. The times when we had  a 7mm gaping bloody lip, the fevers, broken collar bones, broken elbows, temperatures, flus, respiratory concerns, vomiting bugs… and god forbid if a snake bite had ever happened. Touch wood it hasn’t – and nor has anything else major – but a background in any first aide could be a god send on a farm.

There are other careers that might have proved useful over the years too.

 

The other day The Farmer came in at lunch and asked me if I would mind picking him up from the ‘4-corner yards’ in about half an hour. I must have screwed up my nose (and not because I didn’t want to do it, but because I hadn’t drawn those yards onto my map of the property). I KNOW where the yards are, but  The Farmer wanted me to go there HIS way (the quick way), and whilst I thought I had a fair idea where it was and what the best road to get there would be, I wasn’t 100% certain. The Farmer (correctly interpreting my screwed up nose as complete hopelessness) followed up with ‘you know the road?! Up where all those Brigalow trees are.’

*Cue the moment where I realised that a career in Botany might have come in handy. Eventually I found my way there (ok, so I may have kind of followed him out there after lunch, but the good news is that it was where I would have gone anyway). We were all winners.

And I have already forgotten what a Brigalow tree looks like again…

When we watch TV shows like My Kitchen Rules, I will occasionally hear The Farmer make a comment along the lines of ‘why don’t you ever cook meals like that?’ I generally respond with, ‘I DO! I just don’t stack it all up like that.’ Or something along those lines. Sometimes I think that a career as a Chef might have been useful on the farm. As it stands, I am pretty satisfied with my culinary ability. But cooking skills are always much appreciated on a farm.

I am ‘needlework challenged’. I don’t own a sewing machine, and the extent of my needle working skills is patching a hole, or adjusting a hem. Don’t worry, I disappoint myself too. Perhaps my perceived wastefulness could be mended (excuse the pun) by improving my skills as a seamstress.

Other careers that would have come in handy include (but are not limited to) being:

·         A vet (Hello?! Anyone remember the infamous incident where I contemplated calling a vet for a steer that was ill near our house in my early days on the farm? Read all about that sad and sorry tale here).  Being a vet would probably be THE handiest career to have chosen had I known I would end up a Farmer’s Wife at some point.

·         Truck Driver, general labourer, or even a tradie of some description (plumber, electrician, builder etc.). The Farmer always tells me I am the brain of our outfit, and he is the heavy lifter. Heavy lifting is certainly useful on accession. Like when you want to bring a piano into your house… (long story). But our water pump that has been playing up, broken oven and washing machine (and lawn mower now that I’m thinking about it) could have been fixed if I’d had the skills. The Farmer is generally too busted to do anything else by the time he gets home.

·         Mechanic. Who am I kidding? Whilst it would certainly be handy, I should learn how to change a tyre before I look at any benefit that being a mechanic would be for me. And learn how to use the Low 4WD gear in The Farmer’s work ute properly… perhaps muscles is really actually all I need, come to think of it…

·         Accountant. Oh my goodness, I loathe and despise bookwork as much as I loathe and despise the drought. I’d rather sit in a dentist chair and have a root canal done, than do books all the time.* Perhaps if I was more confident in that area, I wouldn’t fear it so much.

* I didn’t really mean that about the root canal. What kind of person would prefer that? ;)

·         A degree in Public Relations would also be ideal. As a member of the P and C, and any other number of committees, not to mention just the advocacy for farming that goes with living on the land, ALL require excellent PR skills. Something I could certainly use…

·         Counsellor – especially during the drought. I actually did start my Masters in Guidance and Counselling and having babies put that on ice for a while (read permanently). Some days I think that having skills in this area would be something of a godsend around here. (Or not just HERE, but here as in on a farm or in the country etc.)

Of course, whilst all of these professions would be handy, they are by no means a pre-requisite. Thank goodness. Pretty much all you need is a big heart, passion for the land and a good relationship with your partner to really make it work. That and being open minded, flexible and being able to think outside the square and work with what you already have. The rest will all fall into place eventually.

 

Poddy Lambs

When I first moved out west I thought people were calling PODDY lambs, POTTY lambs, and I couldn't (for the life of me) figure out why!

The origins of the word 'poddy' are officially unknown, however what is known is that it is English in origin, and stemmed from the UK around 1890-1895.

In any event, it's an orphaned animal, pertaining especially to lambs.

Sadly, there are times when a ewe will walk away from her baby/babies. This is especially common when the weather is 'drought-y'. The mother is often too weak to support her young, and will, quite literally, walk away from her babies. It's a sad fact of nature, and farmers do their best to make sure it doesn't happen.

Short of destocking, the only real option that will ensure a poddy lamb's survival is to hand rear it. This is a times consuming and expensive option, and can make selling the animal much harder to do at a later date. Poddy lambs are often given names, and become a much loved family pet. Much loved, but also a hidden cost in a drought.

Some farmers do it on a larger scale. Next door to where we live, they are currently caring for 10 poddy lambs. I posted these images on my blog facebook page, but for everyone else, here they are!

Enjoy. Total cuteness!

 

You're welcome!

Gypsy and The Working Dogs

It's been a bit quiet out here on the blogging front lately, but that's because we have a massive distraction.

Introducing Gypsy.

She's the new baby in these parts, and we are all in love with her. (Even the Farmer - who will acknowledge that she is a bit cute).

She's playful too. And a bit of a princess.

She is our first non-working dog. (Pretty sure she'll want to be a working dog though, once she sees what the other dogs get up to).

Gypsy joins these guys on the farm. These are our 'working dogs'. Some of them are nearing retirement, some of them are only pups who are still learning the ropes, and others are the heart and soul of the farm. They are the hardest working creatures around at shearing. Some of them are better in the paddock, and some of them are better 'yard workers'. All of them have very different personalities. They all have their own strengths. Some of them belong to The Farmer and I, and others belong to The Farmer's parents.

I'm off again to spend some more time with my new baby girl! x

Down The Rabbit Hole...

'Tree change' is the new 'sea change'. There are some people who want to swap their hectic city lives for the seemingly peaceful and serene life that the country offers.

I wasn't one of those people.

This is me back in my uni days. Probably about to head into the city on my fourth night out in a row.

For those of you who haven't read my book, I was slightly reluctant about moving to the country. Perhaps more than reluctant. In denial is more accurate. I wanted to save some money and move overseas. The country was a mere pit stop in my flash dance to a foreign country.

"You'll end up marrying a farmer." My friends and family would say.
"Why would anyone marry a farmer? And, clearly you all don't know me very well." Were my standard responses.

The country was some far away place that I had barely heard of. Life beyond the city limits was a twilight zone, and I was nervous of passing down the rabbit hole to find my way out west. And I was very much Alice in Wonderland in the beginning.

I wore inappropriate clothing, and found the locals somewhat different to myself. There were Mad Hatters for sure, except these ones also drove Utes and wore Wrangler jeans and boots. It was hard, nay impossible, to get a decent cocktail at the local pub. I knew no one.

And I was lonely. For all of 5 minutes.

That's right folks. Only 5 minutes. And after that I didn't really have time to scratch myself.

"Don't you get lonely out there in the never-never?" This is the number one question I get asked (only, not really in those exact words). And honestly, the answer is no. Sometimes I wish I had more quiet time.

The invitations are constant. This year alone I've attended numerous barbeques, get togethers,  birthday parties, a hens night, family gathering, numerous dinners and even a wedding (that I wasn't invited to, but that's another blog). That's not even touching on the school functions, community events, fund raisers and local celebrations.

If it's a tree change you're after, then I'm a strong advocate for life in the country. I give it two thumbs up, but it's not always easy. But what life is?

It doesn't matter where you move; city, sea or country. Cracking into a new community can be tricky. Rural communities are no different, except that there are some families who have been friends for generations, and breaking into that little circle can take some time. But it's not impossible.

Get involved in all things community. Yes, it's hard work at times, but anyone who's willing to involve themselves in these events, is also likely to appreciate your effort and then reciprocate the favour by inviting you to other social events. This goes for local committees, sports groups and school events.

Having children also helps, but isn't the be all and end all. Many of my good friends are people I met through having children. Before I married, I recall having a conversation with a local girl who told me that 'getting married and having children' would help cement my place in the community.' I was devastated at the time, but have since learned that it's true. But before we all go hating on the country, I find this also to be true in the city too. Of course in the city you can meet people at gyms and other businesses, but that sort of happens here too.

And people are so friendly here! We wave at complete strangers in cars (the one finger wave anyone?)

FYI - I usually stop this wave around Goondiwindi. Experience has taught me that's the limit...

Newcomers to rural communities are first viewed with some curiosity and suspicion, and are soon quickly welcomed into their social niche.

"But what about the isolation?" Another popular question I get asked.

I am geographically isolated from the nearest town (only 1/2 an hour, but still, that town has a population of 1000). After that there is St George, with a population of about 2000, slightly more facilities and schools. And then we are 2 1/2 hours from Goondiwindi - the nearest 'decent city', because it has a McDonalds. Finally we are 5 hours from Toowoomba, which is the 'city' closest to where we live, with a proper shopping mall and loads of fast food outlets. (The only real way to judge the size of a populated centre.)

Isolation from my family is no longer an issue thanks to the Internet. In the beginning I genuinely struggled with being away from friends and family, but 'life' seems to get in the way of my self pity these days.

These days I consider myself to be one of the lucky ones. I still make it to the city, where I indulge in a spot of binge shopping, movie watching and social purification. But then I get to come home to the farm. The golden silence, wide open spaces, clean country air and endless blue skies.

I'm well and truly down the rabbit hole in terms of where my life was and where it is now, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Apparently my friends and family knew me even better than I knew myself. x

Russell (next door), me and CP.