Head For The Hills: June 2010

We've just had the sweetest week and its ending has been less than savoury.
Boy turned 4 last Saturday, which he was pretty pleased about. On the Sunday we went down to Korumburra to ride the South Gippsland Railway. Smugness all round as we rolled past our farm, looking through the dirty windows up at our hills, our creek, our shed, our future. We shared this with Katerina and her boys, so it was a spesh kind of day. Later in the week we got news that our stock agent had bought us some cattle. We're officially primary producers! We have cattle! Only 20 until the next 'shopping' trip, probably this weekend. It's all falling into place. Tom's 'renovating' what he now says is a 'converted dairy', but I still call the shearing shed, and so does Boy. Old habits die hard...
Anyway, a couple of weeks ago I got wind of a horse for sale in country Vic who sounded really nice. We drove up to meet him and decided to bring him home. First of all, I had to drive out to East Gippsland to catch up with my sister, her kids and my parents. I was organising horsey stuff from there and couldn't wait to get home to get back into horsing. In the last few years Dante has been happily spelled in a paddock with about 15 other horses, give or take. He hasn't had much asked of him, and I last rode him in early June, 2009. I was 21 weeks pregnant and had to get it out of my system, so I rode him with a bareback pad and galloped him up a hill, before popping over some cross country jumps. It was very special. I love my horse, even though life gets in the way of our relationship. I have a call for him that I developed in my time working for Robyn at the equestrian centre, back in my single days, and he comes to me when I call - Boy even knows how to do this call, it's very cute. Anyway, it was time to put my ear to the ground to find a horse to move Dante to the farm with. Through the networks I had found the first horse we would look at for Tom to have. Turns out he was just right for us. I rode him and he felt genuine and honest. Done deal! We met him on the 12th of June.
Last week, on Oscar's birthday, the 19th of June, we welcomed the new addition to the family. A beautiful, tall ex-racehorse called Handsome (track name Bottle), about 16.2 hh with a lovely, giving nature . We trucked him 'home' to the Lysterfield Equestrian Centre, where my Dante lives and has lived for 9.5 years, lately with weeks upon weeks without a visit. This week I saw him quite a bit because with the second horse there to settle in I actually got to see my own boy. So, Boy got a birthday ride on 'his' Dante, met our new boy and had a horsey kind of day of it.

Today I sit here, typing about the last week and feeling quite bereft. As many horse people would know, anything can happen and happens for no rhyme or reason. Handsome, or Bottle, broke his leg above the knee this morning and was put down by a vet. I was in the shower with Small Girl when the first calls came through on my phone, which was on charge in another room. It wouldn't have mattered, he would have been gone by the time I got there after throwing some clothes on, getting Girl into the car and arriving at LEC.
I waited for Tom to get home from a hardware store trip and he kinda crumpled. We made the sad journey to LEC together, trekked over to the hillside we could see him on, in the pouring rain. So handsome, even lifeless on the ground. He was still warm to touch, but I won't feel his ribcage move with his breath again. Dante had spotted me and come over to share the moment with us. I hadn't even called him and he knew it was me from my walk. I thanked him for being alive and for giving me all that he has. Cos you just never know.
We're going to live on a farm. This kind of thing will happen. We'll find another horse for Tom. Onwards and upwards, I guess.
Meanwhile, I'm looking at Handsome's racing papers. b1999 to Wineglass, by Lake Coniston (IRE), the Queensland-bred horse who won the Dunkeld Cup in 2008 for Bryan Sharp, graced our lives for a week with hopes and visions of taking him and Dante to live blissfully in the hills of South Gippsland. RIP, big fella.

One hot, February Sunday early, we met with the agent selling this property. It had been on the market since the previous Wednesday. The other properties we had looked at had been on the market for months and had multiple listings. They had potential, and none of them held the delicious promise that this one did as soon as we pulled up at the bridge where the creek runs. We got into the agent's small SUV for it's 4WD capacity and got out at the shearing shed. This is what we saw. A massive hill with a track cut out of it and this dam. One of five.

Grass that no self-respecting large herbivore could possibly sniff at, new tree plantings. The pasture crackled with crickets and the sun bore down on us.

This photo was taken on our return journey from Venus Bay, when we wanted to make sure this was the place we wanted to make an offer on. Small Boy was asking about sheep and cows and about the dead steer that the owner had just about burned in a funeral pyre just behind the shed...curious kid asking pesky questions!

From this hill one can scan the valley and across to Wilson's Promontory. I'm not religious, but the phrase "God's Country" would surely apply here!

Round bales to make some extra income with, just dotted on the undulating country that whispered "make me yours, this is your future". I had already visualised myself riding Dante around the cut hay for some hill gallops.

From not even half way up the track the shed is dwarfed by that hill, and a second dam is revealed. The skies were electric blue that day and my heart was racing with the remotest possibility that this could actually happen for us. Hmmm...how to play the cards right?

So many wombat holes around. Spotting wombats holes is still a good way to get Small Boy's attention back on track when he's fading from the hill walks...one day he'll realise, but in the meantime, while it still has currency..."I can see another wombat hole", "Oh, where, Mum?", "Just over here, quick!" - as if they're going anywhere!

That blue speck IS our car. We walked along the train line on our second visit, two weeks later. Another baking hot day in a hotter-than-usual Victorian summer and the dams were full and pasture able to carry more steers. All good indicators of a nicely farmed block.

This is an intriguing feature of the other side of that massive hill. It's quite rocky and appears to be a product of the erosion the area is known for.

Between the rail line and the creek is Crown Lease, and just a lovely world apart - currawongs, kookaburras, wombats (the ubiquitous wombats!), koalas, echidnas and roos are all elements of this habitat.

Some nice open country makes for great camping spots (albeit not quite legal...), and apparently was the site of a settlement in the 1800s. Note to self: buy metal detector!

This pond just reverberates with frog calls, and some interesting mushrooms grow around it (not the LBM type, just interesting!).

On another visit a few weeks later, and not much in the way of rain, this pasture retains its lushness.

Old skool stockyards...but they're OUR stockyards, and I can't believe that after decades of fantasising about being a cowgirl, we gonna have cattle. There is much pinching going on...this is really happening. Before we met each other, Tom dreamed wistfully of having a bit of land to farm, just like his granddaddy before him. For my part, I had always resented that my parents didn't want to live on a farm, as my great granddad had in Ireland, and knew I'd end up on something...just didn't figure on it being anything bigger than 10 acres!

A basic shearing shed in there, nothing fancy. Now, to make it sort of liveable...

In the right hand corner there, you can see a black shape...yes, it has horns and its cremation was not quite complete. Welcome to the realities of farming, Smal Boy...this cow is dead. This made for the conversation in the car for the ENTIRE trip home. And the rest of the week.

One the day before settlement we drove down for a final inspection. This is the local cemetery. Nice kinda place to end up, I mused, on the drive to our place.

Small Boy contemplates our future.

Small Girl eats some road. You gotta do what you gotta do to feel a connection!

We have a gorgeous creek on our doorstep. I can't wait for lazy summer days to lay out a blanket and nibble on some local cheeses and wine with friends by the edge of our creek.

Father and Son dodging sunshine amongst the Strzelecki Gums that line our bit of creek.

And so began the fungi fascination. This was before I remembered that I have Super Macro on my dinky little camera.

This line of trees will make for nice firewood in years to come.

We met the owner on this final trip. Lord only knows what he made of my Belgrave-ness!

The South Gippsland Railway runs on Sundays, Public Holiday Mondays and School Holiday Wednesdays. Sweet, huh? I'm gonna send Tom to volunteer at the local station, and I've since learned that I ought not call him a 'train buff'. Oh, no, that's just showing my ignorance...it's "railway enthusiast"...

Gumboots are de rigeur. Don't leave home without 'em.

Dogs and kids were the next to share our patch, along with Tom's brother - they're his progeny, carrying my happy flag up the laneway with Small Boy.

But then he decided to carry it, as he felt what my flag was about and was keen to partake in its message. Well, it would have been nice for it to have played out that way, but really, Niece dumped it on her dad so that she could go back to the shed to 'use the powder room'. Nice look, Sam ;)

Kids, hills and sunshine.

More of the same!

Small Boy was well-chuffed to have his cousins there.

Still no Super Macro cop-on, but getting better at the lighting and distance caper.

The view doesn't deteriorate, really. It's some degree of stunning, every trip we make.

Very tired cousins and dogs at this point.

Tom's favourite dog, Coco. But shhhh...Odin doesn't know that!

At this point I felt that if I weren't photographed on the farm it would somehow bode badly. So, I nipped that jinx in the bud.

Small Boy's preferred mode of transport. He's had this since he was one year old. It's time to give it up!

My beautiful friend, Kerry, left us a land-warming gift of 3 manna gums and 3 calistemons, which were duly planted. There. Officially...our place!

Cheesy moment of "I woz here".

A small boy made even smaller by a large hill.

We are well and truly into May now and making almost weekly visits by this stage, to get a feel of our place, mentally mapping weeds and wombat holes. These are my hills. I love this place.