Exploring My Local Area

It's been over a month since my last blog post. To tell you the truth, I was beginning to think the name 'Country Clueless' was becoming redundant as I became more cluey and less prone to rookie disasters. But that's not really the case - yesterday I managed to bugger my new ride-on mower's blades by running over a rogue tree root. But instead of stopping immediately, I continued to mow, digging up the turf and creating what now appears to be crop-circles on my back lawn ... yep, still clueless. 

Good one, Jules!

In the meantime, I've been spending some time getting to know my local area a little better, partly for recreational reasons and partly for work. My neighbour Macca took me out one afternoon to show me his favourite fishing spots, and I used the opportunity to scout for summer swimming holes and picnic spots; and I was also invited on a media trip to ... drumroll ... The Blue Mountains, part of a much-needed push to bring tourists back to the area after the recent bush fires. And I figured why not take the opportunity to stay in some exquisite heritage B&Bs, dine in some of the best restaurants in the mountains and to explore the amazing shopping strip at Leura? All within distance of zipping home to feed my cat, which suited me down to the ground. 

Here are some of the gems I discovered: 

MOUNTAIN WHISPERS 
For inspiration for home decoration and styling, look no further than the four properties gracing the luxurious Mountain Whispers collection. Lovingly restored and decorated by the irrepressible Lorraine Allanson, each of these gorgeous heritage mountains homes reflects the 'golden era' of the Blue Mountains, with no detail overlooked. 

What started out a personal project has now taken over Lorraine's life, with her vision - to create unique, self-contained accommodation where travellers can enjoy hotel pampering in a homely environment - rewarded with a plethora of hospitality gongs. 

Lorraine's original renovation project was the grand old dame, Varenna, situated opposite the railway line on Station Street, Leura. This stately Edwardian home was built in 1906 and features a formal lounge/dining room, a fully functional kitchen, two bathrooms and three generous-sized bedrooms that can accommodate six. Each room is a treasure-trove of period furniture, with elaborate chandeliers, flocked wallpaper, oriental rugs and heavy drapes all adding to the olde-worlde ambience. 

Varenna at Leura

The glorious main bedroom at Varenna

Unlike other bed and breakfasts where guests are at the mercy of their hosts, Lorraine rents out the entire house, giving her guests the utmost of privacy whilst having every luxury - from soft fluffy robes and Egyptian cotton sheets, to a fridge stocked with bacon, eggs and vine-ripened tomatoes - on hand. 

A recent addition to Varenna's charms is a day spa located inside a converted garage; but trust me, this is no ordinary man cave! With a feature gas fire, glorious chandelier, sexy red tones and dim lighting, it's a oestregen-filled haven for massages, facials and makeup sessions - the perfect place to enjoy a girl's weekend, hen's night or a romantic break with a special someone. 

Varenna's day spa

While Varenna is the most elaborate of Lorraine's cottages, the others all have their charms which appeal to different tastes. Leura Rose is an inviting, classic Blue Mountains weatherboard house with a killer verandah for outdoor work and play; the popular Strawberry Patch is cute and intimate, best suited to couples; while The Gatsby near Echo Point is decorated in Art Deco style. 

While all the houses are self-contained, Lorraine is happy to arrange an in-house chef to whip up a special meal for a special occasion. We were fortunate enough to to be treated to the culinary talents of local boy Martin Wrighton of Matunga's Personal Chef Services, for a night of delicious indulgences served up in the most charming of locations. 

www.mountainwhispers.com.au 

LEURA GARAGE 
There's another converted garage in Leura that's causing a buzz - Leura Garage, a Darlinghurst-style casual dining restaurant that has brought a slice of city cool to the mountains. 

As the name suggests, this was once a filthy working motor mechanics workshop; and some features from these days have been retained such as the rough-hewn walls, wooden tresses and the car hoist (now a very impressive wine holder). Spanners and tools have been embedded into the concrete floor, tyres sit atop cupboards, while rusting mufflers are a feature of the bar. 

The old hoist is now a wine cellar!

The food is as fresh as the decor is grungy, with pots of herbs and garden greens gracing the shelves. Other produce is bought from a Kanimbla Valley farmer, local organic meat breeders or from the local Blackheath Grower's Markets (my favourites) - so you know it's gonna be tasty! 

Totally yummy!

Hugely popular with locals and visitors, Leura Garage doesn't take reservations (except on the communal table) - on weekends you might have to sit it out at the bar while you wait for a table to become available. Which isn't such a bad thing, with yummy cocktails and locals wines from Mudgee and Orange on offer. However, if I have one bugbear with this place, it's that it's not open in the mornings - if you require a coffee fix, you'll have to go elsewhere!

www.leuragarage.com.au 

JOSOPHAN'S FINE CHOCOLATES 
It didn't take me long to discover that Leura is a one-stop shopping strip, particularly when it comes to quirky gifts, antiques, retro clothing and homewares. 

But not being a chocoholic, I'd never called into Josophan's Fine Chocolate shop ... until this particular visit. Now, unfortunately, I've become a chocoholic, and it's become a staple on my shopping trips. 

That's how good this chocolate is - it's even made a convert of these savoury-preferring taste buds. 

The handmade - nay, hand-crafted - chocolates here are simply to die for, with amazing, mouth-watering concoctions such as Mango and chilli (my favourite), Mayan chilli (a blast from hell!), peanut butter cups, honey and saffron and basil and lime. 

Josophan's handcrafted chocolates melt in your mouth

Each delicious mouthful is made from luscious fair trade dark Belgian chocolate, with fresh herbs and flavours, no preservatives and creamy ganache fillings. 

Josophan's master chocolatier Nick Hardwidge enjoys his job - clearly!

Oh my ... so damn delicious, I can't begin to tell you! Unfortunately, the hand-made chocs only have a 7-day shelf life, so you really need to consume them in one fell swoop... 

www.josophans.com.au 

THE EVERGLADES 
This glorious National Trust property is one of Leura's hidden secrets and an absolute treasure that encapsulates the grandeur and majesty of the Upper Blue Mountains. Overlooking Jamieson Valley and boasting its own private waterfall and 12.5 acres of mature mountain gardens, this is a place to wander, explore, have a picnic lunch and get lost in time. 

The rambling house was designed and built in the 1930s as a weekend retreat for businessman Henri Van de Velde, and although it's been neglected in the past, the Trust is currently restoring this Art Deco gem. 

Cherry tree garden

But its the garden that inspires me - designed by master landscaper Paul Sorensen, it's like a larger, slightly better-tended version of my own Enchanted Garden, with nooks and crannies revealing many moods, seasonal colour and pure floral poetry. 

Everglade's own waterfall

I can't wait until the annual Shakespeare festival held in the grounds during January - looking up ticket information as we speak ... 

The garden stage at Everglades

www.everglades.org.au

Big Girls Toys

It's been a huge week at the Enchanted Garden, in terms of fulfilling country dreams. Hot on the heels of the fire crisis (during which I was NEVER in any real danger!), it soon became clear that in order to survive my relocation to the bush, I really had to invest in two essentials - a ride-on mower, and a fire pump. 

As it turned out, both were purchased from the power tools shop in Lithgow. The bloke who had been doing my lawns told me about a good-value secondhand mower that had just been traded in; I went straight out there on his advice and put a deposit on it. And what a little beauty it is - red and hot and oh so sexy!

Oooh, so pretty!

In the meantime, I also talked to the shop proprietor Rod about getting a fire pump; being at the height of the fire crisis, he said they were selling like hotcakes but he'd put one aside for me and bring it down and assemble it when he had a chance. 

Rod is one of those country characters you couldn't invent - he's lived in Hartley Vale for 60 years, knows the land and everyone on it like the back of his hand, and has an opinion about everyone and everything. Once he found out I was a journalist, he let fly with a barrage of spit-filled invective, slagging off everyone from local cops to drunken volunteer firies who were "going out there pissed as newts and just getting in everyone's way." He accused them of mismanaging the fires, disregarding local advice about backburning and killing the wildlife by setting fire to bushland in an irresponsible manner. Not the usual "let's salute our brave firies" mantra that accompanied bush-fire press, for sure.

I just laughed off his rant; but the following morning, my friend Ange who works at the Tele flicked me an article about the fires in Hartley. There was my mate Rod, in all his glory, letting fly to another journo. Clearly I hadn't done my job and published his story, so he found a more pro-active ear. 

http://m.dailytelegraph.com.au/news/rfs-accused-of-ignoring-advice-as-hartley-vale-faces-onslaught-from-wind-and-fire/story-fni0cx4q-1226745284988


Anyhoo, Rod is just one of the Lithgow locals who has taken me under his wing and decided that I need to be looked after - a project, in other words. After delivering my mower, he checked out my existing irrigation system and declared that it could be replaced by the fire pump he'd deliver later that week. 

Then my neighbour Macca got in on the case, saying he'd help set up the system, repair my broken ag pipes and get my watering system working properly so I had decent pressure. Between the two of them, I now have a brilliant watering system which will not only protect me from fire, but also keep my beautiful garden hydrated. 

My awesome new fire pump

In the meantime, Macca continues to treat me as his special pet. Today I came home to find he'd been in my garden whipper-snippering what I call 'scary gully' over near the dam. He told me he'd seen a five-foot brown snake heading that direction; and rather then let me be spooked, he got in there to clear away the long grass and make it less snake-friendly. He then continued along the dam bank, de-snaking to his heart's content. 

I'm the first to admit my limitations in terms of both machinery and know-how - so I'm totally grateful for the kindness and generosity of these good-hearted country blokes. Macca has become a good buddy - he certainly likes a chat, and we've had dinner together twice this week, shared a bottle of wine and the odd cup of green tea. It's great to know an experienced bushman and handyman has my back, and that a neighbour is within hollering distance if I'm ever in trouble. I'm not scared of snakes, but I do respect them and want them to keep their distance - so any clearing Macca wants to do, he's welcome. 

He declares it's also in his interest - if my block is clear of shit, it's better for him. He's also grateful that the place wasn't bought by "ferals" (and I don't think it hurts that I'm a single, slightly clueless woman either!)

After slaving away on my dam bank this afternoon, he decided to present me with another tool to add to my collection - a whipper snipper. He then attempted to give me a lesson in snippering, which is actually harder than it looks. I found getting the goddamn thing started a big enough challenge - much to Macca's amusement.  

Macca de-snaking the dam bank

So new tools, new toys - new necessities, I should say - now grace my shed. I think my life here in the country is pretty much complete!

Line of fire

My first blog in over a month, which I had planned to be all about my mega-awesome housewarming party and introducing my friends to The Enchanted Garden.

But alas, I'm sitting here all alone, drinking the red wine meant for the party sangria after a day spent sweating it out preparing my home for bushfire. 

So what the hell happened to Spring? It seemed to go from frost to 40 degrees in a heartbeat; I came back from my trip to the US to find out all the blossoms had fallen, the grass was singed from heat and dehydration and the summer roses in full bloom. My Spring Garden Party was looking more like a Summer Bake-off ... but then it was thwarted by nature. 

Goddamn natural disasters. 

On Wednesday, as I drove into Lithgow to buy a BBQ for the party (still sitting on the front verandah, unpacked), I saw a big fire starting on the hill behind the city. It looked pretty bad, but the firies were onto it. 

The Lithgow fire from Woolies carpark

The next day I had to come down to the city for a meeting at Blue hotel in Woolloomooloo; I decided to catch the train, parking my car at Mt Vic station. And during the 2.5 hours of boredom on the train, I watched the whole drama unfold on Facebook and the WWW. 

Needless to say, I was stranded down in Sydney; I stayed at Jo's, sans clean undies and toothbrush but at least I had a bed and peace of mind. 

But knowing my kitty was starving, I headed up on Saturday morning, to one very cranky cat and a house still thankfully in tact. 

I have been one of the lucky ones. The winds have been - and continue to be - in my favour. Cass is also fine so far in his paddock, and is the best of care with experienced bushies who have been through this many times. 

I don't need to reiterate just how awful these fires have been. Over 200 properties lost. People still being evacuated. Frayed nerves aplenty. My situation is minor compared to those who have had to grab their most precious belongings and run for their lives.

My handsome boy, against a smoky sky

I've also been blessed with great neighbours. Old Macca, who has the property on the right hand side of me, lives in Sydney, but we were in constant touch during the initial drama. He finally got up here this morning, and he kindly offered to come and blow all the leaves off my shed roof and the workshop out the back. He reassured me that my place is as clear and fire-proof as possible; all we have to do now is pray the wind stays kind. 

Macca cleaning the gutters of my shed

I also met my other neighbour today for the first time. I was heading into Lithgow but had stopped on the corner of Coxs River Rd to take a photo of the Mt Vic fire. A car pulled up, and a man asked, "Are you my neighbour?" It was Richard, the reclusive chef who lives next door at The Briars function centre. We exchanged details, and he's also offered his expertise and assistance if need be. 

Mt Vic fire from the corner of Coxs River Rd

Tragedies usually bring out the best in people; and even without anything major happening, I'm experiencing the support and friendship of country folk who don't hesitate in lending a hand. My horse community has been in constant touch with me, sharing news and offering to help out if necessary; and I've even changed my harsh views about the Lithgow folk, who really do have hearts of gold. My thoughts go out to those who have lost property - many of them are doing it tough.

Needless to say, I'm so friggin' happy here ... fires and all - no regrets at becoming a country bumpkin one little bit.

The Dead Duck

Part of my country fantasy has always been to have some chooks free-ranging around my property, laying lovely brown eggs and sitting on my lap to be stroked. 

The Enchanted Garden actually has an existing chook pen/shed ... but here's the thing - it totally terrifies me. It's all ramshackle and falling down, covered in rusty wire and fallen branches, and I'm sure inside it's festering with rats and snakes. Even though I've never actually stepped foot in there, as it's my 'scary place'. 

During the week when it was incredibly windy, a sheet blew off my clothesline, and ended up getting tangled on a thorny bush behind the Scary Chook Pen. I trod through the grass tentatively, talking loudly to scare off potential snakes, before finally untangling the sheet. Then I ran away as quickly as I could from the corner of my property I like the least. 

Another reason I'm reluctant to keep chickens is that I'm worried about foxes. I know there is a fox that stalks this area (my neighbour told me so) ... and one night, as I was lying in bed (it was well after midnight), I heard a duck quacking (weird at that time of night). My neighbour keeps ducks, or it may have been one of the wild ducks that swim on the many dams around here. Anyway, I hear "quack quack quack ... SQUAWWWWWKKKKKKKKKKKK!" Then silence. Dinner time for the Incredible Mr Fox, I'd say.

Today, my brother and his family came to visit, and as usual, I got them working for their supper in the garden. At least my brother Peter worked, while the kids Lachlan, Rohan and Alicia 'supervised' and Carolyn gave design advice.

Alicia pretending to work.

Peter, who is obviously built of much braver DNA than I, decided he wanted to check out inside the Scary Chook Pen ... and when he went inside, he found the corpse of a duck. I believe this may have been the very duck I heard being murdered by Mr Fox; and judging by its state of decay (body intact, head reduced to a skull), I think Foxy may have been snacking on the body intermittently. I was of course freaked out; but Peter decided that Ducky should have a decent burial. 

Here some pics of the funeral service, with Reverend Lachlan providing the eulogy.

A serious moment for Rohan and Lachlan

RIP, Ducky!

Spring Fever

It's been a ridiculously warm week here at Little Hartley - I've barely had the fire going, and when I have, it's made the house too hot. Yep, spring is sprung in The Enchanted Garden; the deciduous plants are all abloom, and the lawn has gone nuts. So I called in the Cavalry, in the form of a neighbour with a ride-on mower to finally cut the grass back and make the property look a little less like a hovel. 

The lawns looking neat at last!

Having neat lawns has made a huge difference, and it's made me realise just how desperately I need my own ride-on mower. I used to dream about buying a nice pair of shoes, or a pretty dress; these days, I lust after mowers, mulchers and whipper snippers. Anything to make this massive job easier. 

I've decided I want the 'back paddock' completely bulldozed, apart from the trees. The shrubbery, which I've been cutting back and weeding this week is pretty blah, so I would like to lose it altogether and just have trees and lawn out the back. Which one day might be Cass' paddock. I've been working my arse off this week trying to get this area under control; still a way to go, I've just started cutting back a hedge which I really don't like and would eventually like to remove completely. It's certainly worn me out, I'm sitting here aching like you wouldn't believe! 

The front garden, meanwhile, is ablaze with colour. The crabapple tree is just magnificent, hot pink blossoms buzzing with bees. And the wisteria is starting to come out, soon it will be a purple picture - my pride and joy. 

The gorgeous crabapple in bloom

Cass also has Spring Fever. On Friday, he decided he didn't want to be caught, running away from me in a merry game as soon as I got within a metre of him. His young chestnut girlfriend, who is skittish at the best of times, just encouraged him; soon all five horses in the paddock were galloping up and down, anywhere but near me. 

I couldn't help but smile at Cass' antics - he looks so handsome prancing around, shaking his blonde mane and tail, despite being an annoying shithead. In the end, my horsey pal Michelle had to come down and help me, with Cass finally succumbing to a bucket of bread and allowing himself to be caught. 

I took Cass out on the trails three times over the weekend; yesterday we went bush-bashing up a mountain, managing to get lost about 300 metres up a ridge. Then Cass got tangled in a fallen fence; I totally freaked out, thinking he was going to panic and slash his legs; but he stood there like an angel, trusting me completely as I untangled his feet and released him from the wire. My heart was pounding like crazy - think I was more scared than he was. 

Think there may be a bond forming between me and my pony ...

Bonding with my horse

I've been a little quiet of late, partly because I've been busy (I do work, you know!) ... and partly because, well, because country life is becoming sorta mundane now. It's not feeling nearly as bizarro as it first did, and I've even warmed to the friendly redneck locals in Lithgow. I don't even notice that they have no teeth now! 

Having said that, as spring approaches, I realise I've really bitten off more than I can chew with this garden. At this stage I don't own a mower, and it's all starting to look out of control. And however many hours I spend in the garden contributing to the bonfire pile, I know I've barely scratched the surface. Scratch being the operative word, goddamn thorn bushes! 

I've also been spending more time with my horse. In fact, this past weekend, I spent two whole days with him at a training clinic held across the way at Hartley Vale. 

The instructor was a guy called Mike Bingham, and he's a rare breed of horseman with gentle yet logical methods of getting the measure of your horse. He encourages people to see the world through the eyes of their horse - in other words, you as the rider become an extension of your mount. 

Mike's methods were particularly effective with Cass's ground work. I must admit that my pony has literally been walking all over me - I've been letting him get away with being a right bastard, blaming my inexperience as a horse owner. 

But the solution is simple - all I have to do is treat Cass as if I was another horse. If he walks right on top of me, back into him; if he refuses to lead (which he often does when he's feeling lazy), get up him. If he pins his ears back at me in distaste, let him have it back. It's not about force, it's just about letting him know who the dominant mare is - ie, me! 

Cass learning a bit of respect from Mike!

Mike also has some interesting theories about riding. For instance, to stop your horse clean, RIDE him into it, using your legs. Then, when you release the pressure on your calves, your horse should immediately stop. We were all stunned to see how this worked, with each and every horse. 

I also learnt about head and neck carriage, and how every movement of the horse is dependent on that part of the body. Until he gets his neck right, he can't get his back-end right. 

All technical stuff... but it was an awesome experience, I learnt a stack, and I think Cass finally has a bit of respect for me!

My B&B

I've become quite the hostess with the mostest since I've had a place to call my own. I've never really been able to entertain much in the past, as there has been room to have anyone stay over, let alone come for dinner. And now my pleas to "make sure you visit me!" are being heeded, my house has become a veritable B&B. 

In the past week I've had a revolving door of wonderful guests, starting with my daughter Jo, then Farmer Joe, then my friend Sam, and finally capping off a weekend with my sister Kerrie and brother-in-law Jim. It's been great, though my cooking skills have been somewhat put to the test. I'm finally mastering the art of poached eggs, though I must apologise for nearly burning my poor sister's mouth off with my extra-hot Thai green curry... 

Sam and her red wellies - they match the wheelbarrow!

But don't think just because you are my guest you get a free lunch. Uh-uh, no way - here in the Enchanted Garden you have to work for your keep. I sent poor Sam out into my garden while I was doing other work - in sub-zero temperatures, mind - while my poor sister and brother-in-law were set to work transforming my enormous, and very overgrown vegetable patch. 

Kerrie and Jim working for their keep

After clearing away mummified corn stalks, ginormous rhubarb and over-zealous dill, it appears only one healthy vegetable remains from the previous garden incarnation - spring onions. They love it, and have sprouted everywhere, even outside the actual garden in the grass. Only I can't think of a more useless vegetable to have a major crop of. 

Spring onions, anyone?

Anyone have a recipe where these tasty morsels from my own garden can be utilised?

And PS - anyone is more than welcome to come and stay here. Seriously. But gardening gloves and gumboots are recommended...

Cattle Country

When I said I was moving to the country, I felt like I was being a bit facetious. After all, this is hardly the Back of Bourke - I'm only two hours from Sydney, there are Surry Hills-style cafes just 10 minutes away and a wine bar up the road. Little Hartley is not so much a bush outpost, but more when lawyers buy weekend properties so they can get their 'tree-change' fix - you know, a few chooks, gardens to potter in and maybe a pony or two. 

Or so I thought. But so far my time here has turned out to be more country hardcore than I ever imagined. 

There's Lithgow, for starters - a full-on country town, as redneck as they come. And then there's Centennial Glen, Cass's home ... Even though it's only 10 minutes drive from my place, it might as well be in the Kimberley or the Snowy Mountains - that's how remote and countrified it feels. There are 'roos bounding everywhere, gates you have to open and shut, and cattle mooing, all under a big, wild, rugged Aussie escarpment. 

As well as being a trail riding establishment and agistment property, the good folk at Centennial Glen - who have apparently lived in this idyllic valley for generations - also run a mob of cattle. It's calving season, and the cows in the paddock adjoining Cass' are dropping 'em like flies. 

The other afternoon I arrived to find a tractor reversing into the cattle yards where I usually feed Cass. "We just have to get something out of the yard," I was told. That 'something' turned out to be a dead calf, which had been pulled from its mother that morning, stillborn. I forced myself to look, thinking it was all part of my country education. 

This scenery makes me swoon - so beautiful!

The girls bringing the girls in

Today I arrived at the paddock to find six of the girls from the stables - aged from about 12 to their mid-20s - preparing to go and fetch the herd of cows, calves and weaners from the paddock, separate the cows and babies, then drive the heifers back into other paddocks. They invited me to join them, but unfortunately I hadn't brought my saddle along (I'd ridden this morning, and just returned this afternoon to put Cass's rug back on and feed him). Which is a shame, because Cass apparently is great at cattle work and it would have been good to see him in action. 

Get on in, little dawgies!

Anyhoo ... it was still an education to watch these young girls - led by the fearless jillaroo Michelle (an excellent horsewoman who's worked on cattle stations) round up the cows, and basically get run amuck by the feisty little calves. 

I had no idea that, at this age (like, two days old), they have no herd sense, and instead of running with the herd (and their mums), they simply bolt in the opposite direction - including through fences, both barbed and electric. 

One little fella managed to escape the pen, go through two fences, join another mob of cows and avoid capture for at least half an hour. Eventually he was driven back, where Michelle's solution was to physically tackle him and lift him into the pen where his mother was... 

Jillaroo extraordinaire, Michelle, in action

All in an afternoon in the country ... even in country that's only two hours from the Big Smoke. 

Love this place.

War of the Roses

I always thought gardening was a genteel pastime, pursued by little old ladies in sun hats or buff young men without shirts ... mmm, gardeners .... sorry, lost my train of thought there! 

So on a glorious afternoon like this, my mind turns to my own little patch of heaven and its upkeep. What better way to spend the last hours of daylight than pottering in the Enchanted Garden? 

Unfortunately, my property has been a little neglected of late, what with the previous owners moving out and me moving in. And it seems the whole 3.5 acres has been choked in thorns. 

A rose is a beautiful flower, but rose bushes are hideous, voracious, vicious beasts that consume, strangle and maim everything that comes near them. Including me. 

I don't know much about gardening, but I do know you are supposed to cut back roses at the end of winter. So I've been attacking these nasty thorny creatures with the secateurs, then dragging the evidence down to a huge pile behind the shed, creating one mighty pile of scary thorny shit. I'm not even sure some of the prickly bushes are roses ... a rose by any other name is still a bastard ... but if it's prickly, I've been attacking. 

And unfortunately, being attacked back. Even though I've been wearing gloves, the thorns have slashed through the leather, torn my jeans, my tracky dacks and my skin. I have red angry scratches all over me, irritating, painful and uncomfortable. In fact, as I sat down to write this, I actually pulled a prickle out of my arse... ah, the inspiration of nature!

Here is a picture of the fruits of my labour. Some of that pile is the conifer I cut down last week ... but the rest are rose stems. All I can say is, it's gonna be a hell of a bonfire!

The Leaking Tap

This is a story not so much about country life, but just home ownership and the associated responsibilities and costs. A cautionary tale for all renters, particularly those lamenting their under-privileged position in the real estate market. 

When I went to connect my washing machine hose to the laundry taps, I discovered that the hose didn't actually fit the wall connection; so I headed into Bunnings, explained my situation and bought an adaptor for the fitting. Problem solved. Except I discovered that that particular outlet was, in fact, hot water, not cold - and I prefer to wash in cold water. 

When I went to set up the cold water hose, I discovered a similar problem - the hose didn't quite fit the outlet, and was leaking water everywhere. Another trip to Bunnings, another adaptor bought. 

But despite all my efforts, sore hands and wrenching, I couldn't get the hose tight enough and it still leaked water everywhere. I managed to squeeze in two loads of washing, but knew that the situation wasn't ideal. Next time I had a bloke over, I'd ask them to fix the leak - after all, isn't that what male friends are for? 

My dear Uncle Alan was the bunny who scored the job. He came prepared, with a boot full of tools, washers, wrenches, you name it. When Alan does a job, he makes sure it's done thoroughly. 

I explained to him what I had done, and told him I just needed to get the hose BACK off the tap (I had put it on so tight, I couldn't budge it), and it probably just needed some teflon tape to stop the drip. "Leave it to me," he said. 

Several hours later and a flooded laundry later, he said he'd fixed the problem. He also said he'd connected the cold tap to a central tap, which would control the flow. Whatever, I thought, as long as the drip is fixed. 

That night, an hour or so after Alan and Elaine had left, I turned on my kitchen tap to wash the dishes. I had no cold water. None in the bathroom, or the laundry either. 

I called Alan, left a message - he was still travelling back to Sydney. After speaking to him later that night, I figured if I had both the hot and cold laundry taps turned on, I could in fact get some cold water to the other pipes. Weird, but OK. 

In the morning, however, I discovered that I actually had no hot water. And that the cold water taps were running hot, and weakly at that. Something was clearly wrong. Alan and Elaine had set off on holidays, so I knew I couldn't ask him back. My only option was to call a plumber. 

Turns out that whatever Alan did - and I'm not blaming him at all, it was just one of those things - cross-connected the hot and cold water, and somehow blew the water pump. Like, totally fried it. Kaput. 

When I first moved here, another friend had said to me his biggest concern living here would be the water pump. A prophetic concern, as it turned out. 

So now I have a brand new water pump, new taps on the laundry wall and no leak. And it only cost me $700. 

The offending tap. So innocent...

I've also decided to buy a whole new hot water system, which will set me back another $3500. The one in my loft bedroom is a dinosaur, and as the plumber said, if that goes, it will flood everything downstairs and be a disaster. Better to bite the bullet now and get a whole new instantaneous gas system. 

My scary hot water system, lurking in the loft..

So that's what has been on my mind the past few days, Facebook...

Time Management

Gosh look at that, 5pm already. How time flies when you have shitloads to do. Almost time for my wallaby friend to pop by. And yes, in case you're wondering, I have cracked open a bottle of wine... 

This country life is frigging exhausting, let me tell you. My arms ache, though I'm not sure if that's from gardening or hauling heavy stuff, which I seem to do a lot of these days. I have prickles in my sweater (I'll explain below, keep reading...) And those halycon days of living out of a suitcase, having no responsibilities or time commitments (other than maybe 15 minutes to feed the cat) seem so far away... 

In a place this big, and with so much to do, I have to be more disciplined with my time management. 

I'm still unpacking, and I probably will be for the next week or so, which at the moment takes up at least an hour a day. Slowly slowly, just a few boxes a day. Today I unpacked all my books. Which means I have a home at last :) 

I also need to spend at least an hour in my garden a day if I'm going to keep it under control. Which it so isn't at the moment. Today I decided to tackle a rampant rose bush which was choking my lemon tree. I like my lemon tree, it has nice juicy lemons, so I don't want it strangled with thorns. The rose bush, however, has gone insane, its evil tendrils choking everything around it, including my sweater as I hacked into it. I spent at least an hour snipping away at the rose today, barely making an indentation on its relentless march. But I will prevail... 

That's a pile of rose thorns in the foreground, lemon tree at rear.

OK, then I seem to spend a good hour of the day dealing with my fire. It requires constant feeding, a bit like my screaming cat. Mornings are the worst, when the fire fairy hasn't come and I have to haul myself out of bed in subzero temperatures to get it started from scratch. Brrrr, what a way to start the day! 

Then there are the regular trips into Bunnings. Ah, my new favourite shop. Don't believe everything you read about Bunnings, however - Lithgow Bunnings is NOT, I repeat, NOT full of hot men and tradies. Just toothless people. And shop assistants who don't have a clue... Another hour gone, wasted. And my laundry tap still leaks...

The most pleasant part of my day is the time I spend with my horse. If I'm not riding him, that's an hour or so ... more if I'm riding, like today. Bliss. And I'm predicting more and more time will be spent doing this as I get used to him and the weather warms up...

Cass doing what he does best. Dinner.

Oh hello, baby!

OK, so how much time does that leave for work? Oh yes, I have to pay the mortgage, need to keep writing, don't I?! Goddamn.

Just counted, at least six hours of my day are taken up with my new life. Which leaves ... not much time for work. Sorry eds, I have better things to do...

Best Behaviour

Gotta love it when the planets align, and it seems your world is on its best behaviour. 

That happened today when my friend Ali visited from the 'big smoke'. I think my new home did a fine job of impressing her, with everything from the weather (most of the time, at least) to the flora and fauna on its best behaviour. 

As we were sitting indulging in cheese and red wine as the sun was going down, we spotted a little wallaby grazing in my front garden. As you do. The sweet little thing seemed to have a joey in her pouch - we could see a little something in that vicinity. She stood there posing for our cameras; we didn't even have to leave the comfort of the lounge to get a good shot. Nature score #1.

Earlier, Ali and I had been to see Cass at his new home. I was a bit nervous about this, as it was my first time catching and riding him as his "real owner". But my cheeky baby also turned on the charm, coming to greet us (with the lure of a carrot - thanks Ali!) then being an absolute angel as I saddled and rode him in the round yard. I only worked him for about 20 minutes, but that felt like quite an achievement since it was the first time I had ridden without his previous owner on hand. 

I called it quits before he got bored, and having achieved what I set out to. Baby steps. 

The only thing that wasn't really co-operating today was the weather. It was freezing out at Cass's paddock, and we ditched him before he'd even finished his dinner, claiming it was too cold to stick around. But driving home, we looked back across the paddocks form the top of the hill and saw the sun hitting the escarpment of the Blue Mountains - a sight to truly make your heart soar. So freakin' beautiful.

See you tomorrow, Cass! Stay warm, baby!

love this shot so much. Thanks Ali!

PS - fully intended getting a photo of Alison a) with my horse and b) at my house. Too much fun and red wine was had, so no go. Sorry Ali!