You want me to go where??

‘Change’ affects all of us differently. For some people, changing is like a duck to water. No problems at all. For others change is much more difficult – impossible even. New friends, new job, new routine, new life.

“You’ll love it!” They said about my new job out west.

“So many young people and such a good social life!” They added.

This is all true. But it’s not until you get out of your black synthetic city pants and into a good pair of comfy jeans (literally and metaphorically) that you can fully appreciate it. Embracing change is easier (and happens faster) for some, and it doesn’t happen at all for others.

Rural living had never factored into my future plans. I was an inner city apartment kind of dreamer. I think that’s why I resisted it so much at first. And when I did finally embrace it, there was WAY too much local wine involved and I then spent the following twelve months apologising to everyone who witnessed my abysmal fall from grace. Not an ideal way to kick start your time in a rural community.

After my initial nose dive in small town socialising, I relied more on conversation and less on wine to see me through. It paid off. I made loads of great friends and began to see my time out west for what it was – an opportunity. An opportunity to meet new and interesting people. An opportunity to learn about such a different lifestyle to the one that I had known previously. An opportunity to learn about farming and other lines of work completely out of my comfort zone. As a teacher, I learned phrases that I’d never heard before: “piggin’”, “bull dust”, “lamb marking” and “stick picking” are only a few.

I finally grasped the importance of rural and regional areas on my previously sheltered life. Toowoomba was as far west as I had ever dared to venture. Australia ended there for me until I was sent out west to teach. A whole new world then opened up for me.

Change doesn’t have to be difficult, because (most importantly and in spite of my initial resistance), I also learned that not all farmers are grass chewing, big hat and boot wearing country folk, and even if they are, that might be exactly what you didn’t know you needed. And thankfully I figured that out quickly. It certainly worked in my favour all those years ago!

 

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.

 

 

'The Wild West' : Part 1

This story begins 10 years ago. With the assistance of copious amounts of alcohol baby brain and 'life', my memories are a little hazy. But this is how I remember the first part of my journey, and transition from city slicker, to farm girl.

When I took the phone call from District Office asking me if I would like to accept a teaching position in St George, I was devastated. I had asked for 'Part Time Casual, Brisbane' and was offered 'Full Time Permanent, St George.' Fate... or destiny? Whatever... I was off to the middle of nowhere, or else my name would be put on the bottom of the teaching list... never to be heard of in any school ever again!

After accepting the position (which initially I had only hoped to keep for 6 months, so that I could save enough money to go back to Europe), I spoke to the lady in charge of teacher housing in St George. I must have been crying at the time. Maybe I wasn't, but I'm sure my voice betrayed any feelings of angst I had carefully hidden away. The housing lady reassured me of this move, by telling me that St George boasted the 'largest shopping centre in South Western Queensland.' Instantly, I pictured underground parking, ramps, and at least 20 shops inside. I breathed a sigh of relief, and considered myself lucky not to have been sent to a town without, God forbid, a shopping centre.

The drive out west was one I shared with both my parents. We had the car packed to the brim with whatever bits and pieces I deemed essential at the time. Eg: black dress pants, synthetic clothing, no hats, heels etc. Looking back, nothing I had packed was appropriate. I had been told that my teacher accommodation was partially furnished, so I hadn't considered moving big ticket items until once I was officially settled (something I couldn't see happening in the 6 months I initially intended on staying for).

Things were good for the first 2 hours of the drive. By that stage, Toowoomba was the smallest town I had seen, and it was decent! Things were looking good. West of Toowoomba, fields of wheat, fruit and vegetables peppered the horizon. The earth grew more and more flat, and I saw real clouds for the first time in years.

Eventually we reached Dalby. With a McDonalds, Hungry Jacks and KFC, this town still passed my 'decency' standards. I checked the map for 'writing size' comparisons. St George was written in writing smaller than Dalby, so I knew the worst was yet to come. As the hours grew longer, we paused in Moonie. Moonie is LITERALLY a crossroads, with a handful of houses, a tiny school, and a road house. That's it. Or at least, that's what it was. By now we had lost radio. All radio. Or maybe there was still the ABC somewhere out there in the land of frequency, but it didn't matter. I would have  rathered running over hot coals than listening to an hour of power featuring Slim Dusty, and any number of 'stars' who have ever been associated with Nashville. Remember this was over ten years ago and I was fresh out of the concrete jungle.

In between the river of tears I shed consistently between Moonie and St George, some of the things I noticed were the tumble weeds (or windmill grass or roly polys). Were these things for real? Amazing. I thought you only ever saw these in country and westerns or Road Runner cartoons! The earth had turned a deep red-orange colour, the scrub had thinned, trees seemed shorter, and grass was almost non-existent. The roads themselves had narrowed. There were no markings, the bitumen itself was a more earthy colour, and not the coal black tar you see anywhere else. The roads here truly reflect the stones that go into them. There are deep ridges lining the sides of the road, so that if you steer slightly off centre, there is every chance you could roll your vehicle or spin out of contol - or both - depending on the speed at which you are travelling at the time. Which would be fast because the roads are so straight out here!

All this explains why Dad was driving close to the centre of the road. It is quite literally the safest place to be. Aside from the actual physical state of the road, there are kangaroos and other assorted wildlife that have a tendency to hurtle absent-mindedly onto the road.

The last town before St George is Westmar. A combined shop/pub/fuel stop, and a one-building school is all this 'town' has to offer. My breath caught in my throat and I wiped away even more tears. Being the hardened city slicker I was at that time, I was finding this all a bit much. I wondered frantically what St George would hold for me?

Driving into St George, I tried memorizing property names branded proudly on gates for the half an hour before we arrived. For whatever use I thought it would be. In my 'city head' I figured that children from these properties would attend the local high school. Ten years later, (with my 'country head' firmly in place) I realise that children from properties like those I passed on the drive into town, are more than likely enrolled at a boarding school far closer to my stomping ground, as opposed to the local high school. But I'll blog about that another time.

St George seemed pretty enough. Compared to the scenery I had been subject to for hours earlier, St George was virtually an oasis. Green centre strips with flowering trees, gardens in full bloom, and quaint country houses.

The inland fishing capital of Australia. Nice. As we drove down the 'main' street, I scanned furiously for the shopping centre I had heard so much about. And yet there was no sign of it. How could I miss that? On our second lap, my parents pointed it out to me. There, directly opposite the BP service station was the 4-Square supermarket.

This isn't it... but it's the closest picture I could find to the one in St George.

There were more tears.

I moved into a small teacher accommodation next to my school. I learned quickly not to hang washing on the line on a school day for fear of students stealing commenting on my under garments. I survived the first two weeks without 'city television'. I made a mental note to invest in several pairs of jeans. (Who would have guessed that you could dress them up and down to that extent?!) I vowed and declared never to be caught dead in a pair of black fitted pants at the local Pub... EVER... AGAIN!

And two weeks after promising never, ever, ever, to spend more than 6 months here, I met CP.

Life is funny like that.

Alice Constance Clark

My Nana, Alice Constance Clark, passed away 9 years ago. I was living in England at the time. She left behind 7 children and 17 grand children, many of whom now have their own children. My family and I still talk about her regularly. We laugh and reminisce about a woman who was intelligent, caring, hard working and dedicated. She loved her family and friends and was passionate about helping others. I'm sure I am right in saying that we all miss her terribly at some time or another.

It's funny the things you remember about people. So today I have tried to compile a list of things that I remember this amazing woman for. Some of them directly involve me, others may not. Some might be stories I have heard from others and some might be stories she told me herself. If you knew her, there might be some you don't agree with. But they are my memories. My images of a Nana who was nothing less than amazing.

So in no particular order:

1.  Phone calls with Nana always started with "Don't waste your money ringing me..." It was never a waste of money, and I loved ringing her. I did it regularly.

2.  When Nana sent you a 'letter', odds were on that it was probably a newspaper cutting of something she wanted you to know about because she thought it related to you in some way, or it contained a message she thought you should know. She possibly wrote 'Dear Jessie' at the top, and 'Love Nana' at the bottom, but it was rarely a 'letter'. Sometimes it was even a quick message scrawled out on a bank withdrawal form whilst she was lined up waiting to be served. My sister was living in Denmark after she finished high school. She once received a postcard from Nana (featuring tourist destinations around Queensland on the front) with nothing written on it other than 'Tell people to come here and visit.'

3. Nana always sent birthday cards when we were kids. Usually with money inside. We knew it was coming and we loved it.

4.  Whilst living in England, I had been having discussions with an elderly man who lived next door to us. He had been telling me about his experiences in the Second World War. It occurred to me that I had never asked my Grandparents what either of their involvement in the War was. So I phoned my Nana, armed with a page of questions that I wanted to ask her before the opportunity was lost to me forever. The questions ranged from her life experiences to her thoughts and beliefs on things. That phone call started with "Don't waste your money ringing me..." and finished with "I love you. Stay safe and enjoy your trip." Best phone call I ever had with her. She passed away a week later. I was devastated, but so incredibly relieved and satisfied.

5.   Nana first fell in love with Grandad when she was visiting his sister, who was a friend of hers. She remembered standing on the side of a cattle yard fence, watching him work. She said she knew then that she wanted to marry him.

6.  She called chicken, 'fowl'. And it used to make us laugh every single time.And she knew it made us laugh, and I'm sure that's why she said it in front of us half the time. She would laugh at us laughing at her.

7. She made me realise that 'old people' really don't get embarrassed easily. There was a 'bus incident' once that makes me laugh even thinking about it. I love that Nana didn't take herself too seriously, and was able to laugh at herself. And then she would remind us that we shouldn't laugh at her because she was old. And we would all laugh again.

8. I met CP the year before she passed away. I remember calling her and telling her I had met a farmer. She asked me what kind of farmer he was, and I told her he was a sheep and cattle farmer. She said something along the lines of 'That would have been great in the 60s Jessie, but you need to go and find yourself a cotton farmer. That's where money is nowadays.' But I know that she would be happy I was happy. And sheep aren't so bad these days either you know Nana!

9.  Nana used to tell us we would get fat if we ate the gristle on our meat. And then in the next breath, she would take the gristle off our plates and eat it herself. I used to tell her I would rather die fat and happy, but to this day I still don't eat the gristle on my meat.

10.  Nana used to think crazy things like 'you can get brain damage if you are left handed and try to write with your right hand.' (I am a left hander). I actually don't even know if she was joking, or if she really believed it, or if she just thought I shouldn't put strain on my brain when it was completely unnecessary... but every now and then I wonder what she would be thinking if she saw me trying to write with my right hand on occasion.

11.  Nana loved my sister Hannah, and my cousin Susan enormously. It's not a secret. I wouldn't call them favourites... okay, maybe a little. She loved us all dearly, but she had a soft spot for the two of them. Hannah lived in Rockhampton for a while and used to visit Nana regularly. I think when you are old and living on your own, a visit from a granchild is enough to elevate them to the position of favourite. Nana also used to tell Hannah she should try to be more like me. It's easy for your Nana not to see your faults when you live so far away from her! When we were very young though, Nana used to have a soft spot for my brother Jackson. I think he reminded her of one of her own brothers who had passed away when she was young.

12.  Nana worked tirelessly for Consumer Affairs. This must explain where I get my 'fighting bone' from. I won't let something unfair settle until it is fully resolved.

13. She was a driving instructor in her younger days. And she drove a Mini. I still think about her whenever I see a Mini.

14. She always thought of others first. She even received The Order Of Australia Medal from the Queen. It was for her volunteer work with the community. I don't think Nana thought she deserved it. But there couldn't have been a more deserving recipient. She was constantly doing things for the community in the way of Women's groups or local politicians offices.

15. Nana had a passion for travel. My grandparents never had much money (though they both worked hard). So it was nice that Nana could travel with my mother and some of her other children at different points in their lives. I have some fantastic stories my mother has told about her own travel adventures with her mother. Once, in Canada, there was an incident with a bear, while my mother was trying to take a photo. Funnily enough, history seems to be repeating. When my mother and sister traveled Canada together more recently, there was an incident in Canada involving too much snow and a camper van. And so the adventure gene continues...

16.   Nana once told my sister that there are seven days in the week, (and she had seven children), and it would have been nice if they didn't all ring Sunday. I used to try to ring her on a Wednesday incidentally.

17.   When I look at my mother I see Nana. Mum has always been very much like Nana, but as she ages, she is more and more like her. And I mean that in the best way possible. Her expressions, her mannerisms, and her face. They are so alike it is amazing. And my sister Hannah is so much like them too it is funny!

I miss Nana. But I have no regrets. Our time together was short, but it was quality, and I suppose that through memories like this, she lives on. I also believe that somewhere out there, this will make her smile.

Let Me Show You Around The Farm...

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be able to do this... And then my brother in law came home today in a helicopter. He has to fly back to the coast in a few days, and it must have been my lucky day, as he offered to take me for a flight. I've NEVER been in a helicopter before, and I thought that petting a dolphin was as good as this last month could get. I was wrong. This was just so much fun!

So if you have never been here before, then sit back, pretend you are up there with me, and take a look at the southern end of our property. And if you are already well versed in the lay out of our property, then enjoy these pictures from the air.

This first one is just me being so excited that I felt the need to photograph my perspective. That's everyone out front waving at me. In the background is the in-laws shed and the Hut (where our nanny stayed).

Okay, this time we are officially off the ground. I have no idea where exactly this is, but I imagine it would be heading just west of our house (as the crow flies ironically enough). Centre is a small dam. It all looks so flat, but at least it's green!

This time we have done a full sweep and are heading in an easterly direction again. It's quite hard to take a straight photo when your left arm is flapping about in the wind of a 2-seater helicopter. (Just in case you thought we were so high up that I actually captured the rounding edge of the planet). We are mostly sheep, and also some cattle out here. I didn't see too many of either on this flight - though in all fairness, the property is quite large compared to a city block. I did see a few kangaroos however. This is pretty much a standard photo of how the whole property would look from the air though.

I love this photo. Top right is the driveway out to the mailbox. From the part where it goes straight (just above the cluster of trees - top right of centre) to the mailbox (which you can't see in this photo) is about 1.5km. The building on the left is one of our shearers quarters. On the right (other side of the road from the shearers quarters) behind the trees is the shearing shed. These are the ones at the southern end of the property for anyone who has been here. The road bottom centre takes you to our house, another 1.5km away.

Top centre of this photo is the shearing shed. The majority of the photo is of the yards. They could use a good shower of rain (also ironically enough, given that 75% of Queensland is currently in flood). Technically we are in the 25%, even though we are completely surrounded by water. These yards are quite large. And there is a reason they are circular like this. It has to do with the way you move livestock through them. One day I will explain this better.

 This is my favourite photo of the day. On the left is our little house, with the shed behind it. Just in front of our house here, it looks like two patches of sand either side of grass. This is where we have extended our backyard, and the grass has only grown in the middle section as of yet. I have promised to have my kids christened when the lawn covers those two sandy areas. Stay tuned. On the right is my parents in law. Quite close. Some might say 'scarily close'... but luckily they are both lovely people, and it is also (conveniently) a safe walking distance for my children to get to on their daily visit. Wonderful. When CP and I first married, our house was there (smaller than it is today), but there were no trees on the right side of our house at all. (OK, maybe just the one). CP planted almost every tree between our place and his parents, and it has revolutionised my life.

I jokingly told my mother in law today that this will be a great photo for realestate.com . In the event of selling... anyone???? No... probably not too funny... especially coming from the daughter in law.

Anyway. That's us from the air.

What a day!

PS: To everyone affected by the floods of QLD, I am thinking of you and sending my very best thoughts and best wishes. Please make donations to support our Queenslanders in need!

Charlie...

This is him. The reason I now call the bush my home. CP... my very own version of The Marlborough Man. 

I think the picture above is my favourite picture of him. Even looking at it makes me happy. It just reminds me of all the physical things I love about him. And it says nothing about all the things that  irritate me about him! 

Warning: this is only going to be a shallow look at a man with a lot of depth.

Physically he embodies everything I never thought I would ever end up with. Except for the dark skin... mmmm lovely, dark skin. He is a real cowboy. Right down to the big hat and Wrangler jeans. And somewhere in the recesses of his wardrobe is a pair of calf high cowboy boots just itching to make an appearance. He comes complete with a farmers tan (which I had never even heard of until I moved out here), 5 o'clock shadow and rolled up sleeves. He drove a ute when we first met, listened to country music and spoke with that unmistakable western Queensland twang. Australia's answer to the USA's southern drawl. 

When I first moved out west to teach, friends and family joked that I would meet a farmer and get married. It will NEVER happen, I thought. And then I met him... straight out of rugby training. It wasn't the brooding, dark eyes, the thick head of dark hair, the chiseled jaw, or the arm muscles that rolled deliciously under his shirt. It was the talk of his travelling that really attracted me to him. Seriously! 

CP is a hard worker. He is never idle. As much as that pains me at times. 

He is a handy man, and I can honestly say that nothing attracts me more than a guy who can fix things for me. This goes back to when I was a teenager. I wasn't a kid who had boyfriends, but I'm sure even my mother would remember my 'gas man' fixation. Nothing was nicer than watching the guy who would come and change our gas bottles over. Ahhhhh. A handy man. But CP can fix a car, tractor, bike, piece of electrical equipment. You name it, he'll have a go at it. Sweet.

Even on a day when I am cranky with him for abandoning me during the witching hour with the kids, I still get excited when I hear the motorbike pull up in the shed, and the gate squeal open, and his heavy boots plodding across the verandah.

Oh, and I also love all of the pictures of him on our wedding day. He is just so dang cute! He scrubs up so well in a suit! *Sigh* Still smiling... 

There are so many things about him I love. I'm sure I could write one hell of a blog about CP that was of more substance, but I'll save that for when I'm a little older, and a little crustier. Today, is just my appreciation of some of his more, ummm, physical attributes.