Life in Tasmania's Huon Valley, by a blow-in from the mainland
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Getting the farm look
My Dad told us we would have to buy some wellies when we moved to Tasmania. He was right. The soil at our place is mostly clay. It's no good changing out of 'house shoes' (that's ugg boots for the Aussies) into boots with soles that collect the clay every time you want to go into the garden, only to have to clean them before wearing them again. So last week we did indeed buy some gumboots at the local hardware store for use in the garden. I eschewed the purple and pink glitter gumboots for the utilitarian navy ladies boots. Today they got their first wear while I put scraps in the compost bin and dug a trench where my raspberries will go, and David wore his while he loaded rocks into the trailer and positioned them around a couple of trees that have sadly been ringbarked by rabbits.
Yesterday while unpacking one of the last remaining boxes, I found a small oval photo frame with a picture of me and my friend from uni Janine in it. At the time, she was living in the upper Hunter Valley in NSW. I love the photo because she looks like such a country chick, happy in dirty jeans and muddy boots while I had clean blue jeans and black jumper and boots - quite the city chick. I wished I looked like her. Today, with my clay covered jeans and jumper and gumboots, I almost did.
Escaped Sydney in 2010 for a piece of paradise in Tasmania's Huon Valley. I'm a keen walker, remote worker, incompetent gardener, Bernese Mountain Dog owner, fan of almost anything German (food, language, cars, beer), amateur linguist, chook fancier, childfree.