*Edited - Hi! As there are so many new readers, I thought I would summarise who I am in a bit of a 'this is a bit about me' piece. x Jess x
I've been a Farmer's Wife and mother for ten years now. In my
previous life I was a 'coastie' and bonafide city slicker. After
accepting a teaching post in a remote area of Australia, and vowing
and declaring I would NEVER, EVER, EVER marry a farmer, it was a
position I suddenly found myself in.
Who would have guessed that the tall, dark and handsome guy who
drove a ute, wore RM Williams boots, an Akubra, and chewed grass,
would be the same guy who stole my heart?
Prior to getting married,
way back
in the dating days, I used to tag along on the back of
The Farmer's motorbike (the wind whistling through my hair, arms
tucked snugly around his waist) and dream about how we would be like
this forever. Acreage for as far as the eye could see. Sheep, cattle,
kangaroos and emus, dotted intermittently across the countryside.
Just The Farmer and I, alone and together. It was, of course, very
romantic. What I didn't realise at the time however, was that my
hormones were playing tricks on me. Those tricky
little pheromones were spinning throughout my body and
clouding rational thought.
After being married for ten years, I now find myself practically
begging The Farmer to take at least one of the kids out
on the bike with him, and to take his time coming home! Our lives
have become (at times) a mish-mash of overlapping schedules, that
directly relate to the amount of precipitation in the air and the
availability of man power at any given time. With three children we
find ourselves "high fiving" each other on crossover
between dropping kids at the bus stop (a mere 20km away) and heading
out to fix fences or pull stock who have become stranded in a dried
up dam.
Distance seems to be the main thing that people ask me about
living out here. Our property is very average for this area at just
over 20 000 acres. That's still several suburbs in a city when you
get down to it! We are 5km from our mailbox, and 10km to our nearest
neighbours. 40km away is the nearest 'town', where my children go to
school and where we can buy food staples. Although there is no pharmacy,
there is also a small hospital in this town, but they don't have
services to allow for child birth, so your best bet is to head to St
George, 100km away. It is in this town that I do the bulk of my
grocery shopping. I am 250km from my dentist in Goondiwindi. I
should also mention that I am 250km from my nearest McDonalds or KFC,
and yet we are still shown the same ads as city dwellers on our television in a
strange and torturous twist of fate! I am 500km from a decent cinema.
Toowoomba is the nearest 'major' city, and at 500km away (or 5 hours
in the car), I find I often bypass it to head to Brisbane (600 + odd
km away) where my family live, and where my daughter (who wears
glasses) has specialist appointments twice a year.
A typical day for me involves getting up at sunrise (who needs
clocks, when we live and work by the sun?). In the summer The Farmer
is out the door to try to fit in a few good hours of work before the
temperature starts nudging 40 degrees. Some days I barely have time
to kiss him goodbye, and then I spend the next hour or so begging my
children to get dressed and pack their school bags so that we don't
run late for the bus. The bus stop is, as I mentioned above, 20km
away. That's 20km of white rock gravel, which inevitably means flat
tyres on occasion, but also that we don't get bogged on one of the
rare days that it rains out here. The children then continue on for
another 20km on the bus before arriving at school for the day. The
bus carries five children, and I have a great friendship with the bus
driver. Where else in the world would your children's bus driver give
you their mobile number and get you to call if you have a change of
travel plans that day?
Since having children I only do relief teaching. Being close
enough to a primary school my children are able to attend is a
blessing. We have many friends who have to home school their children
because of the sheer remoteness of where they live. Anyone who has
ever had to educate their own children will tell you how hard this
is! Before I even had children, I knew that Boarding School (for high
school) wasn't even negotiable. It is just something that many
country families have to do for their children. It is not an easy
decision, and often it's the choice between boarding, home schooling
or long hours of travel in a bus. I am somewhat lucky in that my
mother is the Head of Boarding in a Boarding School in Brisbane, and
it's kind of like my daughters will be going to live with her.
On the days I am working, I will drive all of us into town
together. It's an 80km round trip. I know that 40km to 'town' is
nothing compared to other families across Australia. If I have
neglected to pick up milk or bread on my last trip to town, that's an
80km round trip for staples. It means that we need to be organised
out here. No ifs or buts. You just don't forget the 832876870 things
you need to get done when do you make the trip to town. Or you need
to have a good relationship with your neighbours.
I live 80 metres from my in laws. When I had romantic notions
about The Farmer and I being alone together, I neglected to factor in
our proximity to his parents.We share the farm together. They can not
only see how many days I have left my washing hanging out in the
scorching sun for, but I also have to wear clothes all the time, even
though we live in the middle of nowhere. Heaven forbid
they need
sugar or milk. I wouldn't even hear the car pull up to warn me! Our
other nearest neighbours are 10km away. Thankfully I really love
them. Loving your neighbours when you live in the back of beyond is
another small blessing, especially when you share fences with them.
Some days I feel more isolated than other days. We live in a
'black spot' for mobile phones. Luckily I can be reached by fellow
'Iphone users' over our wifi. Thankfully our internet speed has
improved too. We are still the slowest internet speeds in Australia
out here, but life is a lot easier than it was even two years ago.
When your job is internet reliant, it's nice to be able to access it
without wanting to pull your hair out every now and then. I also rely
on the internet, and specifically social networks to communicate with
my family. I send photos, videos and funny stories to my family and
friends. My children have I-devices that they message my family on. I
use the internet for clothes shopping, gift shopping and everything
else you can imagine. I have no idea how people out here survived
before the internet! They were clearly much stronger women than I am!
We also receive mail only twice a week out here. That means that all
my internet purchases arrive on one of two days, and I try
desperately to be the one who makes it to the mailbox first, so that
my in laws don't have a hernia when they see my bounty of goodies!
So back to my typical day. After the bus run I come home to do
some household chores. The Farmer usually arrives for 'smoko' around
this time. Smoko being the meal between breakfast and lunch that
preferably involves something sweet and home cooked washed down by
hot coffee or tea. Many farmer's wives join their husbands in working
the farm. As a teacher and mother I have never had the opportunity to
be a 'hands on' farmer's wife. I admire those women who help out on
the farm, but prospective farmer's wives should also know that it's
not a pre-requisite! Preg-testing cattle and penning up sheep can be
done on a voluntary basis! Next year when all of my children will be
at school, I have been promising The Farmer that I will be following
him around and learning all about the farm. He said if that's the
case, I should write a new blog and call it 'Sunburnt and Sore
Hands.' Everyone is a comedian around here. After smoko, I continue
with housework, cooking, baking, blogging and writing. I spend most
of the day watching the clock, so that I can collect my children from
the bus stop and bring them back for an afternoon at home. My
children spend the afternoons swimming in our pool, or riding bikes,
or tagging along with their Dad or Grandparents out in the paddock.
They feed the chooks and work dogs (I specifically mention that they
are working dogs) and play with our Jack Russell (our 'pet') in our
yard. Even though we still love and cherish our working dogs, they
aren't allowed the same 'yard privileges' that our terrior has!
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| Our baby Gypsy. |
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| These aren't ALL our dogs, but they are all the 'farm' dogs. |
There are kangaroos, emus and echidnas over my back fence and
sometimes even in my yard. I am still amazed by that. Amazed and
annoyed. Echidnas (as cute as they are) leave holes all around your
lawn. Kangaroos are a hazard on the road, and emus are aggressive
when you encounter them with their chicks. All that aside, they are
beautiful creatures, and I am privileged to be able to see them in
their natural environment on a daily basis. I'm glad my children can
grow up in this environment.
On the down side, living out here also means dangerous snakes! *
Gasp * Every single summer I
worry about my kids and brown snake bites. Touch wood - nothing has
happened so far. But in the (unlikely) event of a brown snake bite,
and given our remote location, it is fair to say my children probably
wouldn't survive, though a grown and healthy adult might have a
greater chance of survival. As my snakebite contingency plan generally consists of 1. DON'T DIE! I guess you could say that after that follows 2. Prevention is certainly the key. We have
an airstrip on our property, and a large selection of straight roads
that planes can, and do, land on for a variety of reasons. We have
also had helicopters land out here too. Thankfully, we have never had
an instance where the Flying Doctors were required, but it still
helps to be prepared if you ever do need them. Country kids are
taught from an early age to avoid long grass, and hollow logs, and
how to avoid snakes if they are ever unlucky enough to encounter them
in the paddock. Plus we all have up to date CPR certificates, and
keep a 'snake bite emergency' kit in a handy location inside our
house. Our little Jack Russell Terrior is a great little 'snake dog'
too, and she lets us know if there is anything out there for us to be
wary of. I am a regular caller to the 13HEALTH number. A background
in nursing might have been handy at times, but I have learned that
there is so much you can do for yourself at home, without having to
drive the kids all the way into town, only to be sent home with
Panadol. You can guarantee that if my child has arrived at hospital,
there's a good chance it's something serious!
Nobody told me about
country kids before I had three of my own. I used to worry about my
kids going missing or wandering off on the farm when they were
younger. I seriously thought that inserting GPS chips in my
children's arms was a legitimate way of keeping tabs on them. As
it turns out (and from experience), there's little chance of a child
running away out here. There really is nowhere to go, and the heat
and insects and fear of worse are enough to keep them close to home.
Country kids don't need summer clothes. They get around in the
nude. This is because it's too bloody hot to put anything on anyway.
Country kids don't really need winter clothes either- and for the
same reasons- except that their parents worry about chills and flus
and illness. Summers in the country are filled with mozzies and flies
and hoses in the garden. Country kids drink from an old tap, and
don't care about bacteria or germs, because they have built up a
serious immunity to such things from the time they've spent
outside.
Country kids love hats. The bigger, the better. No
outfit is complete without an Akubra or straw hat on top. Country
kids work up the genetic curse of the 'farmer tans' (sock lines and
sleeve marks on their arms and legs) while they are outside putting
in a hard day's work on the farm. They muster (on horseback, by
motorbike or even by car), plant, harvest, stick pick, water and
fence. They check stock, help with yard work, stock work and with
cropping. They are jacks of all trades, who build up an armory of
life skills (changing tyres and fixing machinery) before they even
reach high school.
Country kids own boots. Lots of boots. And
not soft suede dress ones. We're talking heavy duty working boots
that will ensure that tiny feet stay protected from an array of
accidents waiting to happen. Having said that, country kids also like
to go barefoot lots of the time too. Across burrs and prickles and
rocks. These kids are tough.
Country kids understand the life
cycle. Something is born and something dies. They watch dogs and cows
mating and understand that it takes two to make one. And likewise,
they know that the meat in the freezer comes from an actual (once
living) beast, and there is every conceivable chance that your
country kid helped get it from the paddock into the freezer in some
capacity.
Country kids love the rain. They speak in terms of how many
"points" or "inches" we have had, and happily
share that news with friends and neighbours. They understand the
effect of rain on a crop, and in harvesting. Country kids care about
the weather for more reasons than what it they can and can't do at
home today. Country people (and not just the kids) have an
appreciation for the value of water. We have access to three
different water sources on our farm. We have artesian water for the
stock, and dam water for stock as well. We also use dam water on our
lawns and for some household usage, until it runs out. And finally we
have tank water; the nicest water. Sadly, also the most likely to run
out when it doesn't rain. When it's gone, it's gone. There isn't a
back up plan, and so we value water as a resource above all other
resources.
Country kids ask questions like "who's car
tracks are they?" and "when can I help you muster?"
and "why do some sheep get fly blown and others don't?"
Country kids, like city kids, have a fascination with learning. But
the learning doesn't end on a trip away from the house. In fact, much
of the learning is done at home. Field trips are a way of life. My
kids can name all the paddocks (and that's no easy feat!), as well as
tell me what each paddock is used for and when. They know their way
around the farm better than I do, and give directions like 'past the
eagles nest,' and 'near that place where the emu's nest was.' They
know the difference between our own cattle and the agistment cattle.
They know the names of tools that Dad uses, and the difference
between graders and dozers and backhoes. They can differentiate
between lamb and beef when they eat it, and will happily tell me if I
have cooked the meat too long and made it tough. And my eldest is
eight years old.
My children and husband speak in 'farm terms'. When I was pregnant
I was 'in calf', and 'an old breeder cow'. When I was breast feeding
I was 'an old milker' or 'jersey'. When I gave birth there was 'one
on the ground'. They are all affectionate terms and not meant in
malice at all. Conveniently, my husband is 'a stud ram' and 'proven
sire'. Hmmm...
I may not be a country kid but I am raising three of my own. I am
certainly not a country girl but I am doing my best to be me, just
the way I am, in the environment I have chosen to live. It's not the
life I thought I would choose for myself, but I'm proud that I'm
giving it my best effort and enjoying every minute. Being a farmer's
wife and a mother in a remote area is all a juggling act – much
like mothers and wives everywhere. I'm a teacher, nurturer, cook,
cleaner, chauffeur, referee, book keeper, gardener, farm hand,
entertainer and a bunch of other positions! It's an adventure; and an
adventure that teaches me a little bit more about myself, and that
pushes me to new levels of understanding and confidence every day,
that's for sure!
