long-toothed hinterland dweller

Hello New Baby and Goodbye Butterfly Lady

I gave up the idea of compiling a blog-roll long ago, when I realized that my blog reading, like my blog writing, was never going to be anything but haphazard and irregular.  Also, knowing what an odd-looking collection it would be, I worried a little about what my list would say about me.

Never-the-less, I can tell you which blog was the very first that I ever read.  It was 'Loobylu' and it was in August of 2002.  Looby was one of the earliest Australian bloggers and she still maintains, on an almost daily basis, her highly readable, technically impressive and very widely read blog. 

Looby (real name Claire Robertson) is a professional artist, craftsperson and home-maker with a special enthusiasm for creating quirky soft toys which she always refers to as 'softys'.  Since I first discovered her, she has had a baby, moved house a couple of times and ventured into various new interests and activities.  As we don't have a great deal in common, I am no longer a regular Looby fan, but I visit as a casual lurker every so often.  This weekend she gave birth to her second daughter.  Her husband's brief post on her blog to announce the birth had drawn 436 comments from her delighted readers by the time I checked in yesterday.  What a responsibility for a young Mum ... having to come up with something interesting every day to feed an audience of that size!

Another of my regular reads has been The Butterfly Garden, a long-running blog by a middle-aged Englishwoman named Linda Walls.  A keen gardener, Linda developed an interest in butterflies and started her blog as a journal to record the butterflies she observed in her garden and the local area.  Along the way she put together a comprehensive index of British butterflies, illustrated with excellent photographs, many of which she took herself.

In July 2004 Linda was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukaemia.  After months of chemotherapy she returned to her journal to pick up where she left off.  But in September the following year she discovered that she had developed Myelodysplasia and would require a bone marrow transplant. Not to be daunted, this plucky lady began a new blog, Life After Leukaemia, to document her illness and treatment.  In December last year she announced that she would be going to hospital for her transplant, and like her beloved butterflies, would be hibernating until the spring.

Linda's transplant operation was a success, but her body was subsequently unable to fight off infections.

Becoming weaker as she dealt with a range of unpleasant symptoms, she finally lost her battle and died in hospital last week.  Linda left a husband and two young daughters.

Her memorial is the work she did in creating The Butterfly Garden.

Life in retirement

Posting this for Val in Melbourne, who has been counting down the days to her retirement.

My husband and I elected to both retire at the same time.  It was a practical arrangement as we were re-locating from the Far West of NSW, where we had both been working in public service jobs, back to the east coast where we had spent the previous 20 years -- and where our three grown children had remained.

One of our kids gave us this to mark our retirement.  It hangs on the wall in our shared study. 

If you can't make it out, the inscription on the face reads, 'Who Cares - I'm Retired'. 

We had both enjoyed interesting and satisfying work careers, but we also endured the stressful days, the constant frustration and the sleepless nights that went with our jobs.  These days the only deadlines are the ones we set ourselves.

We don't always agree on everything, but we do agree that the years since retirement have been the best of our lives.   It took some time to get used to spending so much time at home in one-another's company, but we soon found ways of working around this.  We joined different groups in the community and, as we had when we were working, mostly organised our days independently of the other.  Now, after six years retired, it is rare that we breakfast or have lunch together, and more often than not we separately prepare our own evening meals.   

I missed my job and quickly found opportunities to work in a similar field as a volunteer.  Later I was offered casual work - interesting assignments working flexible hours back in my old department.  We quickly found that we couldn't manage with only one car and reverted to being a two car family again.

All of our long cherished plans for overseas travel ... and the various long trips we thought we would take meandering around Australia ... well they keep being shelved.  We are much too busy and engrossed in what we are doing to think about taking time off for holidays!  Yes, Val, every day does feel like a Saturday.

This morning as he outlined for me details of his next two proposed projects in the garden, my husband beamed and quipped, as he often has before, 'I wouldn't be dead for quids!'

The same goes for me.

I wish you an equally wonderful retirement, Val.

Its not only greengrocer's ...

... hairdresser's know about apostrophe's too!

Pressing on doggedly

Max is back! – so off we two went yet again this afternoon to the local dog park. Today the dog fraternity greeted us in a very friendly fashion and complimented Max on his ball marking prowess.  (Being a house-dog and coming from Victoria with a footy-loving Dad, he’s had the advantage of seeing a lot of  AFL matches on the telly.)

But even with my borrowed dog in tow, I still feel a bit like the singleton El of Elsewhere on outings with her childed friends. To start with, I never know quite where to look when all the animals go through their revolting sniffing routine.  And I’m not sure of the protocol when my dog keeps nicking another one’s expensive toy.

Dog-owners’ talk is mostly ultra boring – consisting mainly of comparisons of their dogs’ habits, punctuated throughout with lots of asides to their animals – stern commands and reprimands followed by liberal amounts of praise.   But today the conversation got off dogs for a bit and turned to the poor quality of the new enviro-friendly plastic carry bags being used by the local supermarket.  Not only are they hopeless for carrying a couple of heavy cans of pet food, but pretty well useless to use again for picking up doggy-do!

On the way home, as I pondered the liquid bowel movement Max was depositing beside the road, I could only agree.

Moth eaten landscape

A couple of weeks ago, before we were side-tracked by added family responsibilities, the other half and I had occasion to leave the Hinterland for a day trip westwards into the Outback.  We were surprised by the abrupt change in the landscape once we crossed the range and drove onto into the drought affected plains.

Our destination was the small town of Chinchilla.  Although to most people a chinchilla is a cute rodent with a pelt much prized for fur coats, this outback town has no connection with the animal; the origin of the name is thought to be a corruption of the local Aboriginal word for cypress pine which the explorer Ludwig Leichhardt had recorded as 'jinchilla'.

But it was not the native cypress pines that took my eye as we drove through the countryside, but the remnants of prickly pear cactus that stretched for miles in the paddocks beside the roadway. 

I then remembered the interesting story of the prickly pear infestation last century and its final control using the imported cactoblastis moth.

Regarded by the farmers as the saviour of their land and livelihood, the moth was commemorated in the nearby community of Boonargo by the erection of a community hall named in its honour.  There is a photo of the Cactoblastis Hall in this article.

If you examine the prickly pear plants closely, it is clear that these small heroes are continuing their work today. 

But the major battle has been won and the prickly pear is no longer a threat to rural industry.

It had been a while since we had ventured into the outback and we enjoyed the experiene of re-connecting with the 'real' Australia. 

We have resolved to plan for a longer trip next time.

Just a doddle in the park

We took Miss Two back to the city to spend some time with her other grandparents yesterday.  Then for the return trip we collected our canine grandson for an overnight while our daughter and son-in-law embarked upon their momentous trip to the maternity ward.

As a non-lover of animals, I have to admit that grandparently duties are being really stretched when they involve dog-sitting.  Max the Staffy has been to stay before, and I must say that he is a whole lot more obedient than some other grandchildren that I know, but that doesn't mean I relish being responsible for him when comes to visit my house.  But since I am going for a walk anyway, he is taken for a play in the park each day - just as the human grandkids are.

With the children I feel very much in my comfort zone.  I know what they like to do in parks and I can join in, have fun and even smile and exchange conversation with the other adults - including those extra young Mums that are clearly a third of my age.

But when it comes to dog-walking it's another kettle of fish -- or perhaps what I should be saying is, I am a fish out of water.  There's an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach as soon as I see all the dog-owners congregated gregariously in the off-leash section of the park.  As I saunter past with Max's leash gripped tight, I can feel their eyes upon me, sizing me up and working out instantly that I am definitely not one of them.

I pray that my charge won't deposit a turd where they will observe my ineptitude at scooping it up with the clean, one-handed swoop that they have all perfected.  And I carefully stay out of range to avoid any conversation that might lead to some awkward technical questions about my animal's breed, behaviour, or personality.  Unsure of Max's potential in a conflict, I grip the leash even tighter at the first sign of a stoush between any of the animals.

I go through the motions of throwing the icky, spittle covered ball - until either it or I has run out of bounce - knowing all too well that Max will never be the one to end the game.  Then finally it's the walk back home - being dragged along the street where I will be yanked off every few minutes to check out any disgusting smelly spot in the landscape that happens to take Max's fancy.

It's always a relief to get home again -- and now it's even more of a relief knowing that my charge is back at his own home tonight. 

But all in a good cause on this occasion... for today was the day that grandchild # 3 made his grand entry to the world.  Curly-headed, pink and crinkly - all 9 lbs 4 oz of him. 

Yes, another candidate for walks in the park!

Garden elves

This coming week in S.E. Queensland bans will come into force on the use of hoses for watering gardens.  Like many other home gardeners, we are having to re-think our plans for a winter vegie patch.  And I had so been looking forward to replacing all the herbs that hadn't survived this past hot summer.  Especially the sorrell and lovage for the winter soups I adore.

Now it seems that bucketing water around to 40 or so fruit trees may become my new exercise regime.  Who needs pilates classes?

This little gnome has seen it all.  In good times and bad, for twenty-odd years he's been sitting around in various spots in the garden or among the pot-plants.

But these past two weeks there has been a real little elf helping me in the garden.  Miss Two is such a willing worker. 

Her favourite job in the world is scambling under the prickly lime and lemon trees to collect the fallen fruit.  And then wheeling them in her barrow to the kitchen. 

After that, she will fill her barrow with fallen leaves to be thrown into the compost bin.  Then she jumps on top in her gum boots and turns them in with her mini rake.

Feeding the vegetable scraps to the worms in the farm is another important job - as is collecting their 'wee' to pour onto the garden with a watering can. 

So in the garden shed there is a pint-sized watering can as well as the mini wheel-barrow and rake.

Last week's fun job was picking the rosellas and calamondins and seeing them turned into marmalade and jam.  And after that eating it on our breakfast toast.  And picking and squeezing tangelos to make our own special orange juice.

It's a whole new world for a city-based tot -- and a very slow one indeed for the grandma who's getting all this extra help!

Gone by the board ...

Since the arrival in the household last week, of one two-year-old grand-daughter, blogging activity has been seriously curtailed. 

Many of Gran's other activities have also been put on hold while she engages in the busy round of activites that make up a tiny tot's day --- like going to the park, watching Teletubbies, playing with play-dough, riding the trike and hanging our very own washing on the line.  And Gran is discovering all over again that even everyday activities - like eating dinner, getting dressed, taking a bath and going to the toilet - are enormously time consuming when the little person involved wants to do it all by herself !

Miss Two's parents are currently holidaying in Europe while attending a friend's wedding.  It will be two or three more weeks before they return.  Miss Two is missing her Mum rather a lot and now shadows her Gran very closely.  Consequently, solitude and privacy have also gone by the board.  Reading the newspaper at leisure is a luxury temporarily foregone -- as are phone chats to friends and keeping up with the daily round of blog acquaintances' posts. 

But things may get worse before they are better, for in the meantime another brand new grandchild is due on the scene, with his/her expected arrival less that a week away.

Being a grandma is a special role and takes a lot of effort, so it may be a while before this hinterland gran will be logging on again.