There’s a reason they call it the silly season

Christmas is sneaking up on us and things are going slightly crazy. People seem to have run out of patience for work, have shorter fuses and every day is a struggle to keep up.
Everyone says ‘Its the end of the year. We’re all tired.’ But what I don’t get about that argument is that the ‘end of the year’ is just a date on the calendar. Its just another day like the day before and the day after. Sure, some of us have holidays around Christmas time, but why is it that everyone seems to wind down as the end of the year approaches? I haven’t noticed people winding down before a holiday at any other time of the year…. It must be psychological: the year behind weighs down on us, exhausting us… then a new year begins and we feel lighter, ready to tackle anything. Maybe its just the hope that the new year will be better than the last.
Things in my world have been a bit wierd lately, in keeping with the spirit of the season. On Tuesday, while crossing the road with a client, I suddenly got a stabbing pain in my right hip. A pinched sciatic nerve apparently. I stumbled through the day, holding my butt-cheek for the majority of it (good look) then drove home in agony and booked a treatment with a friend who does deep tissue massage. She came over next morning and after she was finished I felt like a new person… albeit one who’d had a severe asskicking! My butt cheeks are black and blue.
That woman has strong fingers!
So, since I was at home resting and recouperating, I decided to finish the little Christmas tree I was making for a centre piece for Christmas day. Its made of sticks I collected in the paddock. I used my glue gun to put it together, and topped it off with a star decorated with beads.
No idea what happened here… This photo was saved as portrait. Please tilt your head to see it!
I also made a few stars from sticks to decorate the room. I used wire to tie the sticks together in star shapes and then hung beads on wire from the bottom point.

I feel quite proud of my Christmas decoration experiments. 
Meanwhile Fred and his friends all got noses. I made another friend for him and realized none of them had a nose. So now they all do.

Christmas is going to be busy here. We’re having it here to celebrate the first year on the farm. We’ve decided to forgo tradition and make it a grazing day: cold ham, cold turkey, cold chicken, salads, dips, cheese, crackers, lots to drink and lots of sweets. And all day to consume them!

Hopefully the day will be good to us, but despite the weather bureau’s long term forecast about a hot day with afternoon showers, I’m not optimistic. Ever since I’ve lived in Tasmania Christmas day has been COLD.

So I’m planning to set up the gazebo for an outside setting, and bring in trestles and a door to set up an inside table as well. Better safe than sorry I say.

I’m also planning to wash and clip dogs. Can’t have grimy dogs around here at Christmas! Barney is quite happily going through his days, completely unaware that his fuzzy face is soon going to shaved off and the accumulation of grime and smelliness is about to washed off. Mischa’s too. Well, she wont be clipped, but she’ll be washed. Her whites will be white again!

My two will go from a greyish white to pure white again. And I’ll be able to see their gorgeous faces again. Its been too long since they were last done. And they love it. They love being farm dogs! In fact, thats one of the best things about living here instead of Fentonbury. In Fentonbury they were locked up all day when I was at work, here they get to spend the days in the yard and they love it.

Ben is gorgeous. He’s definitely my horse, comes to the fence to say hello and get a face rub and comes to me all the time. I love it. Then Wally comes over and pushes him away in case I have carrots.

Wally meanwhile has been scoffing down his food as quick as he can, then rushing over to where Wayne feeds the ducks and chooks so he can clean up the wheat and layer pellets. With the amount of chickenfeed he’s getting, its a miracle he isn’t laying eggs!

Dancer is being a real girl., playing one boy off the other. Poor Ben is the one getting picked on I think. Maybe I made a mistake encouraging Wayne to get her… Poor Benjamin… I may separate him a while. We haven’t had time to work with him at all lately. I’m really hoping we can get back to it soon. I’m eager to ride him.

z

Sniff butt

Dancer, in the front yard.

Check that out Ben! Its a girl!

 

She sure is pretty Wally. She smells nice…



 

You boys can sniff my butt!
 

EWWWW. Girl butt!

Dancer is coming along nicely. She’s learning to trust us, particularly Wayne cause he works with her the most. He’s been working on her giving her feet so that we can trim her hooves, she’s coming to us when we arrive home from work and seems to enjoy our company, pats and carrots.

She’s filling out too. Her butt has a nice roundness to it that it lacked before. She’s still skittish about some things, but she is coming along. For instance, when we got her you could never be sure if she was going to kick, but now she’ll come up and back up to you to have her butt scratched. And she was really reluctant to let anyone touch her head. We’ve been working on that and most of the time now she’ll let you touch her head and run your fingers through her forelock even though she still doesn’t like it much.


With Christmas coming up and all the stuff that seem to happen around this time of year, its been hard to find the time to work with the horses. All last week we had meetings, training and dinners after work, so every night was a late one. Hopefully next week will be a bit easier as we only have one meeting and then we have a 3 week break for summer holidays.



I am so looking forward to my holiday! Not that I see myself really relaxing… I have a To Do list a mile long! Things I’d like to get done while i have a few days at home.

Like finish the brushcutting I started last weekend. About 4 hours of it. I tackled the deep grass and weeds growing around the dam and the pussy willow stems I stuck in the ground around there. I put in about 9 pussy willow stems. I think 6 have made it. There may be more… I have to finish the job and find them in the weeds.

Once that’s done I have to tackle the other side of the fence, around the water tanks. Another 4-5 hours… 

Then, about 3 weeks later, repeat above steps.

I also have plants to put in the ground (over 20) and seedlings to separate and pot up…
Those are just the outside jobs! It never ends. I wonder what on earth possessed us to buy a farm? One and a quarter acres was more than enough outside work for me… Don’t they say be careful what you wish for, you might get it? I always wished to live on a farm and Ta Da! Here I am!


I do love it, though, so I can’t complain. I just wish that I had more time to enjoy it. More time to spend doing things at home, on the farm. More money to do them with. Less need to work.


A lotto win would come in handy right now! Failing that, selling my house in Fentonbury would help a hell of a lot. 

So people out there looking for a beautiful, comfy house, in a gorgeous landscape, for a country life, look no further. I have the house for you!

Till then, I work at work, I work at home, I work in the garden, I groom dogs, I paint. The time I have left over I play with poodles and horses and enjoy the view.

z


Did you hear about Fred?


Hey! Did you hear about Fred?

Shh! Here he comes!

Hey Fred!

Hey guys…

So, what did happen to Fred? Fred is a pipe cleaner and pom pom poodle I made last week as a prototype/experiment for Christmas ornaments. I made Fred late one night while watching TV and when he was done I left him on the coffee table to dry and went to bed. 

In the morning I went to show Fred to Wayne and he was nowhere to be found.

OH NO! Romeo got him! I knew it.

And sure enough, I looked outside and there was Fred, lying in the middle of the footpath. 

I was able to resuscitate him, but he’ll never be the same. The hair on his tail will probably grow back, but he’d lost an eye, had a broken hip and will never be able to walk without a limp again.

The above photo does no justice to the flatness of Fred.
z

Note: One PC&PP poodle was harmed in the making of this blog entry.

Bats in my belfry and possums in my hen house

Have I ever mentioned how much I LOVE living on a farm? I love having animals around me. Sure, I hate it when some animals (or birds) kill the other animals (or birds), and I could do without the rats and mice, thankyouverymuch, but I love having animals around me even though sometimes I have no idea what I’m doing.

When we got the 3 new isa brown hens a while back we locked them, the black leftover hen and the rooster in the hen house to bond. Then we let them all out a while and after a couple of weeks I found one of the red hens dead. Looking back now I think her head was missing (I saw a mess and didn’t want to look too closely) which lead me to believe it was the work of a quoll… At least I’ve heard that quolls will kill chickens.

I love quolls. They’re gorgeous and its a tragedy that most of their species is extinct everywhere in Australia but Tasmania.

But I digress.

While the chooks were locked up they made a nest in some long weeds at the back of the pen and we didn’t know it was there. By the time I found it there were 13 eggs in there! Wayne thought they were holding out on us.

Needless to say, despite the lesson I learned from my mother early in life, I took all the eggs and the chooks stopped laying there.

“When you have free range hens and you find where they’re laying, always leave an egg so they return to that nest.” Wise woman my mother!

So for a while we didn’t get many eggs. Then one day I found 3 eggs in a nest on the floor of the hen house. Being a bit wiser this time, I left one egg there as a ‘seed’ egg. We marked it with an X and various threats to the life of the person who takes it, and left it there to encourage the girls to return.

A couple of days ago Wayne found the seed egg cracked open and sucked dry. We know the ‘egg sucking dogs’ didn’t do it cause they can’t get into the hen house. We blamed the theoretical quoll, but really we have no proof that quoll even exists.

Which brings me back to today. I spent some time out in the paddock with Wayne and the filly, Dancer, working with her, picking up her feet and just getting her used to me handling her. Then we messed around with the boys a while so they didn’t feel left out. Before heading inside to make dinner I checked the hen house, checking for eggs and to see if they were roosting in there or up the tree.

I looked, found two eggs, no chickens on the roost. But wait, there was the black hen in one of the nests, I could see her big black eyes and her pink nose…

Pink. Nose….???

That’s not a hen!!! That’s a black possum!

It was curled up and looking very snug and comfortable in the nest. I’m wondering if it was the possum who ate the egg… do they even eat eggs?

Its so darn cute. Wayne had to drag me out before I tried to make friends with it. That could be very dangerous… Those thinks have claws like Freddy Krueger.

Maybe its a female and she’s chosen to have her babies in the hen house! Maybe the hens moved out cause the possum moved in? Who knows.

What I do know is that my poodles are now eating like normal dogs. I mean, Montana has always been a fussy eater. She’d eat her chicken frames, loved disgusting canned food if she ever got it, would graze on dry food. But give her leftovers and she’d inevitably leave the vegies and eat the meat and pasta or rice. Romeo was still a pup when we moved in and growing, and just like any young male, he’s always hungry.

These days everyone eats their dinner and no one leaves anything behind. Even Montana is now eating like a dog, only a little bit more ladylike. She eats it all but takes a bit longer than the others who scoff it down like there’s a deadline.

I’ve never had dogs that ate like this before! When I ran out of chicken frames this last week and didn’t have time to go buy more, I had to resort to giving them all dry food mixed with whatever I could find, preferrably not canned dog food cause *PIEUWWWWEEEE!* I can’t stand the smell of that stuff coming out of the can or coming out of the dog!

I’d mix up dry food with canned fish or chicken soup and toss in some leftovers and YUM. Nice and disgusting. Just the way they like it.

Not the way I like it. I’ve had to pooperscoop about 8 times the normal volume in the last couple of days. Soon as I can I’m buying more chicken frames. I’d much rather the firmer, smaller poop which results from the raw chicken frame diet.

Yes, I am discussing dog poop. You’d have to scoop it up to appreciate these things. And while I’m on the subject I may as well add that Ben’s poop is finally solid.

Ah, its the simple things in life which make me happy…

z

Memories of home

As you know, I have put my house in Fentonbury on the market. Its been a big decision for me cause I love that house, I love the position and the area. I love the yard and the openess. But home is here now, with Wayne and the dogs, the horses, the chickens, the ducks and the grass. So its time to let go of the past and move forward in this next chapter of my life.

Fentonbury holds so many memories, I thought I’d share some of them with you.

I bought the house in Fentonbury in 2003 and surprised almost everyone I knew. I’d been living in Melbourne for over 20 years but dreaming of living in the country and threatening to pick up and move to Tasmania one day. I’d never been to Tasmania so I came down for a weekend, saw 3 houses and made an offer on the third. I went back to Melbourne, handed in my resignation at work, put my house on the market, set 4 open days and an auction and I was gone.

The house on Gully Road was my first country home and I lived there alone for a long time. I knew nothing about living in the country and had to learn about the sounds wallabies made when they thumped through the yard in the dark. Its where I learned to stock a pantry when the supermarket isn’t just down the road. Its where I learned that poodles are real dogs that can (and will) kill small animals. Its where I had my first litter, and my second, third and fourth. Its where Montana was born, Bonnard and Romeo. Its where I buried the one puppy I lost and planted a tree over its grave. Its where Scooter met his new family and where Pagan met Louise and chose to go live with her.

Its where Billy was living when he started losing his hair and was diagnosed with hypothyroidism and where his immune system started to lose the fight and started the cycle that ended in him leaving me. 

The house in Gully Road was a mess when I bought it – the previous owner had not loved it, had never unpacked and had cats who left messes. She’d lost her keys and broken windows to get in. I fumigated it, I stripped dirty carpets, repainted walls, put up dado rails and timber lining on walls. I put in a new bathroom floor and a new bathroom suite. I updated the kitchen and put a rail around the deck and a ramp to replace the rickety steps. I built a garage and moved the clothes line to the back yard. I got rid of rabbit hutches and bantam cages and cubby houses and old vegie patches. I put up new fences and gates and planted trees. I got the roof painted – it was half pale blue and half unpainted.

Its where I learned to chop wood and to light a wood heater and keep it going all night. I bought my first lawnmower and my first brushcutter (a big REAL brushcutter, not some pansy one) and my ride on mower. I bought firewood by the truckload. I learned to drive a tractor and pick hops and pack cherries. I got my first pair of blundstone boots, rain gear and fluoro safety clothes.

The house in Fentonbury wasn’t the first house I’d rennovated and made home, but it was the one I was in the longest (so far). It was home for me and my family (my poodles) for a long time, and I loved it.

Here is Billy, standing on the ramp… Billy was my baby, my shadow. Billy is in almost all the photos I’ve taken of the yard, I couldn’t go anywhere without him following me. This photo was taken not long before we moved, the house was freshly painted and Wayne and I were already looking for a larger property.

  
When I bought the house it was a pale yellowish colour and the trims were all blue. I hate blue trims. I love the new colour, a dusty pale green with Antique White USA trims. I’d seen the green and admired it on other houses but as always, I waited too long to paint it so now someone else is enjoying it.
The bedroom I first slept in when I moved there. It was the first room I did up when I moved in. This room had an old carpet which I lifted before my stuff arrived from Melbourne, finding old lino and then rough floorboards which I sanded by hand. I love the look of the old floorboards. I painted the walls in suede paint and created a bedroom I felt cocooned and safe in. This room is where Montana was born, between the bed and the fireplace, with me in the whelping box with Pagan and the phone on hands free with a friend giving me advice and instructions.
Later on I moved into a front room and made this room the dog’s bedroom. They had their own room, their own beds and their own TV. The paintings above the fireplace were 2 of the first poodle portraits I’d ever done – of Pagan as a puppy.

The special door I brought with me all the way from Melbourne… it was the dog room door in my house in Melbourne. I’d found an old gate on the side of the road and got a good friend to cut a panel out of the door and set the gate into it, making it perfect for the dogs’ room. They could see out, I could see in, they couldn’t get out if I wanted them locked up but they could get the heat or air conditioned air from the next room. When I sold my house in Melbourne I took that door with me, replacing it with a new door. When we moved here I took the door with me again, replacing it with the door that was there when I bought the house.

The living room had a grimy carpet, not improved by years of muddy pawprints. The living room is an addition to the house and didn’t match the old part so I got timber lining and dado rails put on to give it more character. I replaced the old carpet with good quality vinyl flooring, easy to clean and practical. I spend many nights curled up on the couch watching TV with poodles draped all over me in that room.

The grooming room was the back porch. I hired a local handyman to help me enclose it using decking and windows and a door I bought second hand. I got a plumber to put in a hot and cold water tap for my hydrobath and ran it into the same drain as the kitchen sink. This photo was taken after I’d packed up the hydrobath and grooming tables. The sink replaced the dog bath, making it more a gardening room than a grooming room. It wasn’t the biggest grooming room in the world but it was big enough for me to groom 3 poodles for the show ring. I spent many hours brushing and drying hair in there…

 The hallway… so wide I actually put my desk in there and used it as an office for quite a while. I had the lining and dado extended into the hallway to give it more character, and I added the decorative corner thingies where the roofline is lower. Why is the roofline lower you ask? It used to be where the house ended but a previous owner enclosed it and added the office/fourth bedroom. I love that wide hallway.

The guest room… the room where I totally stuffed up my colour choices and gave up. I thought the green would be a good colour but it just didn’t work. Maybe if I hadn’t given up and finished it, painting the trims antique white, it would have looked better. Maybe just changing curtains and putting in another light fitting… As it is I didn’t finish it. This is where Bonnard was born. I put the whelping box in the nook beside the built-in wardrobe and slept in that room for the first two weeks of his life.

The fourth bedroom, the one I used as my studio and sometimes as my office. I never got around to painting the trims white but I did paint the walls. I painted the window box which used to hold a cushion where Pagan would sit and watch birds on the trees outside. Its where Scooter would lie to sleep in the sun and, later, where Montana would lie resting her chin on the windowsill.

My bedroom… I loved the old fashioned swirl carpet which reminded me of the houses I lived in as a kid. I whelped my second litter in there, next to my bed. This is the room I slept in when I’d broken my ankle, I had the TV moved in there so I didn’t have to go up a step into the living room and so I could look outside to the gate. This room was full of light, cheerful and peaceful.

The bathroom was a mess when I bought the house. It had different colours of corregate iron (colourbond) on the walls, a clawfoot tub and a sagging floor. I removed the clawfoot tub and replaced it with a bigger new tub which fit against the wall. I replaced the floor with a new, non-sagging one. I had mini-orb put on the walls to give it a more modern look. I put in a hand rail cause, having had a broken ankle, I know how important it is to have something to hang on to. I replaced the old sliding door with a solid timber shed door which I sanded and painted. I added timber lining and a dado rail, and I adapted an old bookcase as a cupboard to hold towels and to give the toilet some privacy.

Best of all, I love the kitchen… When I bought it, it was all pine. Dark and gloomy despite having a skylight. I painted the kitchen walls antique white. I put doors on the 2 cupboards which didn’t have doors. I moved the breakfast bar up so it was bar stool height. I put up 2 restored bathroom cabinets as spice cabinets, I put up my Tony Curtis film poster and my collections of old bits and pieces. I love the old ceramic double sink with its depth… and I changed the old tap to a more practical gooseneck. It wasn’t the country kitchen with a table in the middle which I still dream of, but its a spacious and very practical kitchen. Pretty too…

 All in all, its a great house. I really hope someone finds it as pretty as I do,buys it and is happy there. I’ve done a lot to improve it over the years I lived there but there’s still some things to be done. There’s plenty of opportunity for someone to move in and make further improvements. Lets not forget the green room which is crying out for another colour. Carpets could be lifted to show off floorboards, thats something I had planned to do but never go around to.

Whatever, its a great house and has a great yard. I’m sure someone will fall in love with it the way I did. I just hope someone falls in love with it soon! The tenants in there now are great, they’re looking after the garden better than I ever did myself, but I would like to not have to worry about it. I don’t think I’m cut out to be a landlord. I think I’d much rather move forward and concentrate on making this house my home in every way.

So, send good vibes and send the right person our way. I’m sure they will be as happy as I was in that house.

z







Down by 14, remaining steady on 3 and 4

It seems our excitement about 14 new mouths to feed was premature…. Our ducklings are all gone! One day they were here, then they were gone.

Wayne had seen them waddle up to the ‘feeding area’ with the parents one day and then they were never seen again. We thought they might have moved away cause the mothers were out of sight as well. But then the mothers returned… without ducklings.

Wayne saw one little guy swimming on the dam, right up against the reeds. We figure now he was trying to stay invisible. The general consensus around here is that the crows or hawks got the ducklings.

We’re devastated.

On a positive note, everyone else is doing fine. The crows haven’t got them!

Dancer is turning into a very affectionate little girl. She comes up to greet us when we get home after work and always wants a pat and her butt scratched. Incidentally, that butt is getting bigger!

The boys are both hanging around for attention in the afternoons too. Ben seems to be recognising me as his person now, unless there’s food involved, in which case he’ll just follow the closest bucket. We spend a bit of time together most afternoons, either just hanging out in the paddock giving eachother kisses (ok, ok, I confess, its mostly me giving him kisses!) or working together in the half-done round yard or at the box.

Did I mention I have box in the middle of the paddock? Its my ‘mounting block’ and my job has been to get him used to it so that when the time comes to use it to mount him he wont freak out. So I take out a brush and stand on the box and brush him, leaning over his back, walk up to and over the box, jump off it in front of him, make noise on it, etc. I think he’s come to think of that box as his safe place! Yesterday he got away from Wayne when they were working without a rope and he headed off to the box where he stopped and looked at me as if to say “Mommy, come save me!”

Turns out I’m good at handling, loving up and desensitising animals to things. After all, I’m good at grooming reluctant dogs. What I’m not good at is handling rope, whips or getting a horse to lunge. I’m forever getting tangled up in rope (trying Wayne’s patience) and Ben is forever testing me out cause he just doesn’t seem to take me seriously when its time to work.

The dogs are all great. Montana and Romeo look incredible in their short trims, more like twins than mother and son. I love looking at them. Barney is a little brat, he’s through a door before you even know he’s in the vicinity. Sometimes he’s so fast going through any open door that he ends up locked up in sheds. Stupid dog. Mischa is still hesitating at the door. “Are you sure I can come in? Really?”

Other than that, all is going well. Wayne’s finished the floor in the casita. We can walk across it now without having to balance on joists. Now I think it needs a coat of primer/undercoat and a topcoat of something water resistant. I can’t wait to clean out and deck out my workshop part of the casita. I have so many projects in my head I want to get on with.

The garden is starting to come together. Not so much the actual garden… rather my potted plants. I’ve repotted the 21 lavenders into larger pots till I have the ground ready for them to go in. I have started the spots for the hydrangeas but according to advice, I need to put them a bit further from the wall of the house than I’d originally planned. So it will be a couple of weeks till I have the time to prepare a wider bed for them.

I’ve chosen the colour I want to paint the house. I saw a house in the city which I just love. Mind you, the style of house is gorgeous where ours is a plain farmhouse, but the colour is just what I wanted for here. So I put a note in their letterbox asking what colour they’d used and they emailed me. How great is that? I now have sample pots of those colours and another I saw when I was searching. I just need to find the time to paint one window frame in Antique White USA and then paint sample swatches around it to make a choice on the timber colour. Then I’m all set to paint the house! 🙂 Just don’t hold your breath. Its a BIG job.

Its all a matter of slowly working on things and one day this place will be gorgeous. I mean, its already home and we love it, but one day it will be pretty to look at as well!

Its been a very long, hot and tiring day. I’m glad I’m home, surrounded by my family. Now if only the TV would work properly…

z

Snot rags

What is it with country blokes and their hankies?*
(Translation for you non-aussies out there: What is it with country men and their handkerchiefs?)
I mean really… What is it about a bloke that makes him want to keep his snot, carrying it in his pocket with him everywhere?
Do they have a good blow, look at it and think “Ooh, thats a goodie. Think I’ll hold on to that one”?
Ok… I do understand that a guy working out in the fields can’t carry a whole box of tissues with him and that livestock might laugh at him if he carried a man-bag. But how about stuffing all available pockets with handfuls of tissues and keeping a box (or five) in the ute (truck) for extra snot requirements?
Some people say its like cloth nappies (diapers)… its good for the environment to recycle stuff. I say bollocks (bullsh#t).Tissues are, from what I know, veritably biodegradable, so littering the countryside with them won’t really harm the environment in a lasting way the way beer cans and cigarette butts do… and quite a few blokes have no trouble tossing them out. So why notuse tissues?
I’ve heard the arguement (won’t say where, but the name begins with ‘W’ and ends with ‘ayne’) that tissues fall apart and you end up sticking your fingers into the mess. 
Well, they make tougher ‘man sized’ tissues these days. Tough enough to handle a manly amount of snot.
I think the whole idea of the hankie is disgusting. I go to do a wash and find bunched up, crunchy snot rags in pockets. I pull them out by the teeniest corner, careful not to touch the things any more than I need to, then toss them in the wash.
Then I think “Ewww. I dont want to wash my clothes with snot” so I divide the washing into delicates, whites, coloureds and filthies. You can guess where the hankies go!
z