Grey Nomads

Posts Tagged ‘craig’s hut’

After returning from our sojourn in Canberra in 1982 we settled back into the routine of life in Sydney’s Eastern Suburbs. However after a period of three years, bringing up two little boys and working full time, life got a bit too hectic. Each child was at a different stage. Our elder son was in primary school and thus need before-school-care and after-school-care and during the school holidays, vacation care needed to be organised. Family-day-care mothers first cared for our toddler before he was old enough to be enrolled in a child-care centre. School functions came and went; sports days were missed. We were too busy trying to make ends meet to be able to be the type of parents we longed to be.

It was then that we decided a change was needed. We bought a hundred acres in Queensland and a year later we sold the family home in Bronte and packed up our goods and chattel and migrated to the small country town of Maryvale, a distance of 900km. By Australian standards, where farms can be larger than some European countries, our farm was considered tiny in comparison.

The change was fantastic. The tight knit community embraced us with open arms and we quickly became an integral part. The boys rode their bicycles to and from school each day and came home each afternoon, not to an empty house, but to a home where I was always ready to serve afternoon tea and supervise homework. We could finally let the boys have some pets; apart from the chooks and goat we also adopted a kelpie dog called Coodah and a kitten that we named Monty.

I had time to join the P&C (PTA) at the small school the boys attended and to volunteer to teach classes of science and help with craft lessons. I was a regular on tuck shop duty and spent hours ferrying troops of kids to and from swimming lessons where I also taught them to swim.

I served on several committees and was elected president of the CWA (Country Women’s Association) and the P&C. Both hubby and I performed in several local theatre productions and in between all this we also managed to find the time to build our house which I had designed and to set up a hydroponic flower farm to provide us with an income. Our dreams of self-sufficiency had been a tad optomistic; to my amazement, toilet paper didn’t grow on trees…. at least not in a form that didn’t leave splinters.

The demand for our flowers grew, and so did the area under cultivation. Before we knew it, we had become slaves to the farm. Every day the plants needed watering, dependent upon the weather conditions, igloos needed opening or closing twice a day . Flowers required cutting before the heat of the day wilted them. Markets had been established in Brisbane and we would get up at 4am to pack boxes of fresh flowers for me to hand deliver into a dozen different florist shops a few times a week. It was almost as time consuming as being dairy farmers. We were unable to take a holiday together. The few times hubby visited his family overseas, I was left at home to manage the farm and when I wanted to stay with my mother on the Gold Coast, hubby selflessly volunteered to stay on to oversee the flower production…what a saint! By the time our elder son was in his last year of high school we had had enough and sold the farm in Maryvale and moved onto bigger and better things in Brisbane.

Because of all this past history I was sympathetic when I saw an ad whilst searching for somewhere to housesit in Melbourne. The owners of a sheep and cattle farm in Victoria’s High Country near Mt Buller wanted to take 9 days off and fly to Alice Springs to attend a family wedding and needed someone to take care of the farm animals and pets.

At this point of our journey we were ahead of schedule for our planned arrival in Melbourne late in April for the immanent arrival of our first grand-baby and could easily afford to take 9 days out of our hectic travelling schedule.

We know how hard it is for farmers to take a holiday and were only too happy to assist. The promise of fresh lamb for dinner was just an added incentive. We were warmly greeted by our hosts, Greg and Kerrie and bowled over by their dogs, Oscar and Merle. I hope they felt confident leaving two strangers in charge. As we waved them good-bye at the cattle grid we were looking forward to our new role as farmers.

It had been a long time since we lived in a small farming community. It was refreshing to see that door keys were still an optional extra and people were happy to stop and have a good old chinwag when they met you in the street. It didn’t take long to fall into the country pace of life… a slower pace. Feeding the chooks and gathering the warm freshly laid eggs, checking the electric fences, making jams and preserves from the fresh garden produce and lavishing loving affection on the pets was all in a days work before falling asleep in front of the TV of an evening; soon it all came back to us.

see hubby, the chick magnet

The crisp clear mornings heralded the end of summer and we were back in long pants for the first time since returning from the UK. There were interesting places to investigate; Mansfield, Mt Buller, Craig’s Hut, Jamieson and Lake Eildon all lay within a short distance from the farm.

We learned a thing or two during our stay. We learned to ride quad bikes. We learned that no matter how carefully you watch your step, the sole of your shoe will act like a magnet to goose poo and I learned that since last riding a horse at the age of 14 my bum has become far more tender. I’ve been walking like John Wayne for days.

After 9 days of stuffing our selves on fresh eggs and tender lamb we waddled to the gate to welcome Greg and Kerrie home again. It might take us a while to get our figures back but gee it was worth every minute fit.