inner pickle

a girl and her (aunty's) owl

One of my sisters had an owl just like this one forever when we were little. Owlie. Very special. My other sister found this exact replica years later and thoughtfully bought it, I think just before Owlie was about to travel overseas on an adventure possibly likely to spell the end of his stuffing at the bottom of a backpack. 

I'm not sure, but I think the original Owlie did the travelling anyway. 

And this one stayed behind to be loved up by nieces of the future. 

 
Love that owl.

(Pics taken on my iPhone. Adam had the camera out the back of the hill, as you know.)

xxx

cows are in the meadow...(or down here: paddock)

Guess where we went this weekend?

All the following photos of Mum and Dad's farm (our escape-hatch) taken by Adam. 

(For the record, I haven't messed with the colour or light in any of these. It really is that green. And the light was really that amazing on Sunday afternoon. And Ad is pretty deft on the camera! He's not just a spunky face. Or a nice bum. Yes OK I'll stop.)

 
 
 

xxx   
  

summer days

Something else I love about the farm: the trees.

A very old fig. Hard to get the scale without a person standing at its base, but they're cattle yards behind. This tree is enormous. I love it.

  These too, just cool looking trees on the driveway up to the house. 

And if a tree dies you can always stick a chair on it.

Don't ask me. 

Please refer to earlier comment (Saturday) re: my father the dedicated prankster. 

 Oh yes. The immutable legacy of genetics. Terrifying. 

I think the charm of the south coast is the combination of farmland, hills and beach. Gorgeous. 

 Why not, I guess?

The forecast was cool so I didn't pack swimmers. 

This may have been a tad short sighted of me.

  Or really very short sighted.

 Bit damp, dude?

 Ah well. What Australian kid has not gone in in their undies?

Loving this weather.

xxx

 
 

weekendiness

Doesn't matter how many times I look at it, this view I grew up with from our back garden is my favourite of all. (Yep, I know I am insanely lucky to have grown up with it.) 

 
 Farm-walking. 

Now Grandpa said this fence was not electric, really, do we believe him? (No disrespect, my father is a dedicated prankster.)

Adam chooses to err on the side of faith in his father-in-law. I would not be so hasty, but in this case, OK.

Dinner with a view.

The paddock is where I've always done my best thinking too. 

Hope you're having a sunny weekend. 

xxx

 

 

coffee picking time

{coffee cherries, ripe and ready}

It's coffee picking time on the farm.

When my Dad retired from dairying just over ten years ago now, he put in some coffee trees. 100 in fact. A hobby. Because if you've ever met a retired dairy farmer sitting around drinking tea or playing bowls I'll eat my hat. 

Our place, the south coast of NSW being temperate, has a very long coffee picking season unlike northern NSW where it ripens all at once. Which works well when Dad's crop is non commercial and the pickers are friends who gather more for the conversation than the pay (unlimited fresh roasted coffee beans.)

As Adam and I have been out of the state for the last three seasons you'd think we'd be running low on Buena Vista beans but no, Dad has kept us in coffee beans the whole time. I don't think we've been a very good investment.

So Adam spent a wet hot day on Saturday picking like a champion. With Dad of course. The kids helped by ringing the workers bell for morning tea and lunch, which Mum prepares and serves with lots of cold drinks. 

And a good strong espresso, of course.

{Really, I'll take any chance to photograph Adam's bum.}

{This is Dad, not playing bowls or cards or going fishing.}

{Henry on a swing that Dad hung in the gate to the coffee, in an attempt to distract him from the mad running game through the trees. Too big to sit in a pram while I pick (which he used to) and too small to be pick usefully for longer than five minutes.}    

{Tilly helpfully picking leaves instead of cherries}

{Drying out the processed beans on big trays.}

Now if only he could reach the espresso machine to froth the milk we'd be in business...

xxx  

  

weekend escape

My favourite tree, an Illawarra Flame, at Mum and Dad's... hard to get the scale until you look at the tiny yellow bump down to the left which is a kids bike... 

 
Coffee picking season has started... 

Never has a petrol-stop looked so good. Empty now, I think. I've picked and peeled peaches off that old tree since I was 10.

Only a city kid without a driveway who never washes a car could be so enthralled.

Wet, determined, totally happy.  

Hope you all had a lovely weekend!

xxx

Family Album Part 2

Three more from the wonderful Ray Henning, giving us glimpses into moments we wouldn't otherwise see.

He's written on the back of this one: Hay Making. Sunday 6 December 1959. 

Dad, Uncle Doug and Grandpa. And what would have been a beloved dog, out the front. 

Have you ever hefted a bail of hay? They're really not light at all. First week in December. Hot. A Sunday. Rest day for bankers. If it rains on your hay after you've cut it, before you get it into the hayshed, it can, and frequently does, self combust. Not ideal. So you make hay while the sun shines, you know?

Grandpa. Same day (photo is dated). Same shirt. Pretty happy looking. Perhaps he quite liked Ray Henning because really why would you look so cheerfully at a dude wandering around with a camera, not sweating and not heaving bails? 

I love this photo of Grandpa. 

I never got to meet him. His big heart gave out before I was born. 

So we pore over photos of him, trying to piece together the bits people remember, the stories Dad tells, the farm he left behind, trying to find him. 

He look so much like Dad, without a beard. Therefore he must have been excellent.

Cool old tree, huh?

It's still there:

Garages and chook shed come and go, trees remain. 

Ever planted a tree for posterity? 

Mine are in Brisbane. Maybe I should plant one in Sydney. What about you?

xxx

Family album

As you know, I love photos. I love taking them, I love looking at them, don't particularly love being in them.

There was a photographer called Ray Henning who was a friend of my Dad's many years ago. He was an amateur photographer and we are uber lucky that he took his camera and caught many photos of Dad, his brother, their Dad, the farm, in ways that without Ray Henning we never would have seen.

Long live the photographer.

Dad on top, Uncle Doug strapping the load, Grandpa heaving the bail. 1959.

Dad waving, Grandpa driving. Foxground, circa 1959.

Grandpa, sewing or fertilizing? Walker's farm. Buena Vista on the hill behind him.

Dad, having afternoon tea, looking out of the door of the dairy (at his dog, he said.) May, 1960.

Getting out my camera. Taking more photos. 

You?

xxx

the oddest toys

My kids are spending ages doing this at the moment: playing with stones. 

The stones came out of the bottom of a now-defunct fish tank (RIP fishies) and have been thoroughly washed. Now they get moved from vessel to vessel with a concentration usually saved for sweet treats. 

Also, as always, anything that moves or has wings is also a big hit and worthy of concentration:

Tilly and Mum and I hung out with this ladybird at the beach...

But if you're visiting a farm, which we did on the weekend, the most fun thing to play with (if you are 4) is of course, the cows...

A little blurry as they were nanoseconds from bolting as Henry ran towards them bellowing HELLO COWS!!

And yes, cows living with a really crap view...

painful, right?

I'll stop now. 

xxx

afternoon at the beach

Hi! A weekend away in Gerringong with our favourite Canadians - all four of them this time!

More pics to follow but for right now - a late afternoon at the beach...

Hope you all had a marvellous weekend.

xxx