Today I bought an axe, or more correctly a 'log splitter'. I wasn't too sure what one was until yesterday, when the guy who delivered a load of wood gave me the lowdown on fibreglass versus wood, and how to wield it. And because he'd delivered ridiculously enormous pieces of wood (rather than nice chunks which would fit into my slow combustion heater), I decided that this would have to be my next (expensive) purchase.
So here I am, walking down the main street of Lithgow carrying an axe. And sporting a black eye.
No one blinked an eye, of course. This is Lithgow, after all. The fact that I have all my teeth is probably more cause for staring and pointing.
Two days ago, I moved to my country dream home in Little Hartley, just over the Blue Mountains. It's a beautiful part of the world, rolling green hills set against a dramatic rock escarpment. My patch of paradise is just over three acres of divine gardens, a ramshackle collection of rare and exquisite cool climate trees.
Which would be awesome if I knew anything - anything at all - about gardening. The truth is, I've never managed to keep a pot plant alive before this, and have pretty much lived in city apartments all my life. Now I am living here, on acreage, alone, with a wonderland of trees to care for.
And until I bought the axe - sorry, log splitter - this morning, I didn't own a tool. Next on the agenda is a whipper snipper. Ooh, maybe a chainsaw. And I should probably get a ladder and a wheelbarrow.
I guess you're wondering about the black eye. Well, it's not a result of country living, just general inadequacy. I stupidly decided to put together my four-poster brass bed on my own. All well and good until a whopping great metal pole falls on your head. Needless to say, I'm still sleeping on the floor.
Hopefully this will be my last moving-related injury. I have no wish to be an amputee, so intend going very carefully with that log splitter. I'll let you know once I give it a whirl.
So here I am, walking down the main street of Lithgow carrying an axe. And sporting a black eye.
No one blinked an eye, of course. This is Lithgow, after all. The fact that I have all my teeth is probably more cause for staring and pointing.
Two days ago, I moved to my country dream home in Little Hartley, just over the Blue Mountains. It's a beautiful part of the world, rolling green hills set against a dramatic rock escarpment. My patch of paradise is just over three acres of divine gardens, a ramshackle collection of rare and exquisite cool climate trees.
Which would be awesome if I knew anything - anything at all - about gardening. The truth is, I've never managed to keep a pot plant alive before this, and have pretty much lived in city apartments all my life. Now I am living here, on acreage, alone, with a wonderland of trees to care for.
And until I bought the axe - sorry, log splitter - this morning, I didn't own a tool. Next on the agenda is a whipper snipper. Ooh, maybe a chainsaw. And I should probably get a ladder and a wheelbarrow.
I guess you're wondering about the black eye. Well, it's not a result of country living, just general inadequacy. I stupidly decided to put together my four-poster brass bed on my own. All well and good until a whopping great metal pole falls on your head. Needless to say, I'm still sleeping on the floor.
Hopefully this will be my last moving-related injury. I have no wish to be an amputee, so intend going very carefully with that log splitter. I'll let you know once I give it a whirl.
