Behind Every Successful Farmer Is A Wife Who Works In Town.

One of the first things Charlie ever spoke to me about was my job. I'm a teacher. He seemed genuinely interested and beamed from ear to ear about what an excellent career path I had chosen, and all the opportunities it would unlock for me.

He neglected to mention that (right beside nursing) teaching is music to a romancing farmers ears. A wife who teaches is essentially a permanent solution to a bad season. I am the drought relief. Bills can be paid, mouths will be fed, ends will be met. No pressure. Of course, he didn't mention this fact to me until just after we were married.

In the seven years and four months that CP and I have been married, I have been pregnant and or breastfeeding for five years and four months. That leaves a mere two years of us just being married with no strings attached. Allegedly. Except that kids are strings. And I have three of them.

Furthermore, in the seven years and four months that we have been married, I have really only worked one year and four months at a full time permanent rate, and also done the occasional day of relief teaching. In other words, I haven't been a very reliable source of drought relief. Thank goodness for mostly good seasons throughout that time.

And now, here I am, three weeks into my new permanent part time teaching appointment. I have committed to three days teaching, every week until the end of the year. But what does it all mean?

1. A messy house.
2. Quicker, easier meals. Roasts have become a weekend luxury. Meals also require some considerable forward planning these days. After homework, baths for children and a small amount of cleaning in the afternoons, it's best to have defrosted something in advance, or even cooked it the weekend before.
3. Less me time. And less ME time equals less blogging. * Insert sad face *
4. Lobbying hard with the other Kindy Mums to help me with pick up and drop off times for Darcy, because the opening and closing times fall at the most inconvenient times possible for a teaching Mum.
5. Getting organised.
6. Hairy armpits and legs, and a skunk look hair do as my roots grow out, as I no longer have any time whatsoever to look after myself.
6. Time to find someone who can come and help out with looking after Sam. But I'll save that blog for another day...
7. Missing out on key social events, and having to live vicariously through my friends. Who would have guessed that spare change would come at the expense of my social life?!
8. More drought relief.

But not really the drought relief part. The farm is doing just fine on its own.

It doesn't need my help at all.

*Insert happy face *

PS: Would like to add as an afterthought: My sister called to let me know that 'I have had it very lucky by being able to stay home for as long as I have. Many people do not (financially speaking) have the same opportunities that I have had.' Plus I have had a bloody good time in the process - mostly. She was also worried about what people might think about my husband, and reminded me that 'I knew what I was marrying when we got married.' So mostly for my lovely sister's benefit, but also for anyone else who doesn't realise that I mostly use poetic licence to some degree in many of my blogs, I would like to remind you all that I have been truly blessed, and that I am grateful for so much in my life. Sadly that isn't what makes a good blog. But rest assured, all things this end are (mostly) very good in my life. Love you Hannah! xxx

Is It Hot Enough For Ya?

It's Australia Day, and Mother Nature is slapping us in the face, with the best reminder possible that we live in this vast land down under, by hitting us with a whopping 40c+ day today. 10 minutes ago (at 7pm) I went outside and checked our thermometer, and it was still 38 degrees Celsius. Mother Nature likes to remind us who is the boss occasionally. And especially this January.

CP and I have just taken the kids out for a swim in our 'pool'. This is our pool.

If it looks like a gravel pit, that's because it is a gravel pit. It's not too bad actually. It's semi-clear (not so much now that we have been swimming in it). It's a fantastic temperature. And since it was originally used solely as a pit where gravel was extracted, the bottom of it (gravel) is significantly more 'safe' to me than a dam. Generally speaking, I like my 'pool gravel' to be cemented together, and the water to be filtered. But beggars can't be choosers. Especially when Mother Nature throws a curve ball at you like she did today.

Pools are an aspect of our lives that CP and I differ greatly on. I am a firm believer in putting one in now, so that we can gain maximum usage out of it now, while the kids are little. I think this comes from having grown up with a pool. CP on the other hand is not a pool fan. He calls them mosquito breeders. He sees dollar signs, time being eaten up, and more jobs for him (and he is probably right), but I still see far more positives. CP could happily spend the rest of his life not ever stepping foot in water other than to bathe. I just can't fathom that...

This is CP doing his best David Hasselhof impersonation. There's no reason for putting it on here, except that it makes me smile.

The real irony of today's heat wave, is that we are in the midst of the worst flood in recorded history (for this district anyway). We are literally cut off from any of the three surrounding towns, by water so deep that it is not safe to drive a 4 wheel drive through. It is slow moving water, and because the rivers around us have been taking it in turns with their peaks and drops, this has left us isolated for almost four weeks, with another three to go. At least. There has been the odd day where we've made a break when the water is low enough to restock our supplies, but for the most part we have been stuck.

This is actually taken in last year's flood. But there is water (exactly the same) there again. This also isn't us driving. We aren't crazy enough to do that, but this pic shows the kind of water cutting us off. The water is deep like this for kilometres.

The crazy thing about this flood is that it's almost drought weather. One of my friends laughed about how she was watering her garden using the flood water that was metres from her back fence, because it was so dry wherever the water hadn't reached. If that isn't irony, I don't know what is. This is what happens when you don't get the rain that causes a flood, but rather, you get the floodwaters that start up north and meander down a river system that will ultimately affect you. Slow moving water. And it's just that.
Sss... llllll..................ooooooowwwwwww.......

So here I am, in the air conditioned comfort of my bedroom. I'm lamenting the death of my lounge room air conditioner.And how it will be weeks before anyone will be able to make it to our house to fix it. Thank goodness we had the common sense to put air conditioning in every room. I'm sure that many hardened country locals would think I am 'soft'. I like to think I am a true believer in putting modern technology to use. It's there. I use it. Easy. I'm not going to sit around talking about 'the old days' when it's currently 'the new days'... I am thinking about how grateful I am not to have my butt sticking to the leather of a chair and giving me third degree burns. Or how lovely it is in my room not breathing in that THICK hot air that clogs your throat. You can only imagine how horrid it feels if you have experienced it first hand. Or if you've ever stepped off a plane from Europe in the winter, into an Australian summer. It's like a big hot smack to the head.

It's hot, dry, and if I didn't know better, only a few months away from even more droughty weather. You'd never know it flying overhead though. A massive sea of inland water.

I guess if you choose to live out here, it's part of the package. I don't mind it so much anymore. As long as my survival technology keeps working. (Ie: fridges, air con and internet). And actually, with the exception of yesterday and today, Mother Nature has been considerably kind with the summer temperatures. We have had a glorious summer. If you don't count all the flood water. But nothing like Mother Nature to bring everything home and remind you of how tiny you are in the grand scheme of things.

Here's to fantastic weather for the rest of 2011. Whatever that may be...

The Proposal

This is the last photo of me while I was still, technically speaking, 'on the market'. Even though I wasn't really. CP and I had been dating for just over 2 years at the time the photo was taken. It was Easter 2003. The next day CP asked me to marry him.

This is where CP asked me to marry him. Except that it was empty. And there were drought cracks because it had been dry for so long. And there were burrs. And we had about 6 dogs surrounding us, running like mad, excited to be off the chain. Now it is looking very different. We were sitting on the pipe to the left of the photograph. 


I knew he was going to ask me. I had thought (hoped) he would do it the day the first photograph was taken. My parents had arrived in St George on the Friday. Over dinner, CP asked my father for permission to marry me. It's all a little blurry now, but I think he may have said something along the lines of "I know it's a little old fashioned, but it's still important to me..." To which my father replied something to the effect of "If you need me to supply a ladder so that you can just run away together..." And that was that. We had all but sealed the deal. All I had to do was wait. I knew he would ask me that weekend because my family was out and we were all heading down to the farm so that our families could meet. And we had spoken about it for so long that it was no surprise. 


On the Saturday night we did the big family dinner thing on the farm. Still nothing. Not that I can blame him. It's not like in the movies with romantic backdrops and sentimental background music to help things along. It would have been too nerve racking for CP to do it with all the family around. Even though he knew I would still say yes. 


I was really starting to think it wasn't going to happen. Time was slipping away quickly. I think I even started to think that maybe it wouldn't happen this weekend (which would have been fine too), and so I stopped getting my hopes up. 


On Sunday morning, CP and I went for a walk. This was all very normal. When I had stayed at the farm previously, it was common practice for us to take the dogs for a walk and sit down and have big 'talks' along the way. And so it was on this day. We sat on the pipe beside the empty dam. I swatted the flies away from my face. My hand a continuous window wiper. CP sat beside me and held my hand. He spoke about how different things looked after it rained. He told me that this was the farm at its worst, and that you couldn't imagine how amazing things could be with a little bit of water. He spoke to me about how hard things were for a farmer during a drought, and that if I could love him like this - at his worst - then I could only ever expect things to get better. And then as we sat there surveying the damage of 5 years of drought (or more), CP asked me to marry him. 


There was no ring, no bended knee and no formalities. It was just the two of us, making a verbal agreement. And then we walked hand in hand back to the house.


After someone asks you to marry them, and you experience a whole range of emotions in a single moment, the minutes afterwards are somewhat more subdued. At least they were for us. We felt like we had the best secret in the world. The thought of racing home (ringless) and announcing that we were engaged, just seemed a little too cheesy for my liking. So we kind of just hung around smiling goofily for a good half hour before I really felt that something needed to be said. 


We told both sets of parents within minutes of deciding that it was what we needed to do. And it was more like,"So, yeah, CP and I have decided to get married. So I guess, ummm, I guess that means we are engaged." than cliched romantic moment. But more than anything it was 'us'. It was our style. Our way of doing things. Even though it was no surprise to me, it was not at all what I expected. There were no tears, just an incredible feeling of joy. 


Every time I drive past the dam, I think about that day. I think about the farm at its worst, and how lucky we have been since then. I think about how far we have come together, and as individuals. And I am so grateful to be a part of this. And while now I proudly display two rings on a very special finger, our marriage is about more than that. It's about us making a life together, and creating a future for 3 very special little people. It's about sharing this life with people we love, and making a home for us all. And I think we are getting better at it all the time.