NYE in the country

Happy new year! Last night we spent the evening with a lovely bunch of locals at some friends' place just down the road. The weather smiled on us and the freshly mowed paddock was the place to be on a long summer evening. We ate delicious pizzas from an outdoor oven, lamb slow cooked over an open fire and fabulous desserts (I so love banoffee pie), enjoyed with celebratory beer or sparkling in hand. Dogs and kids running round and round and playing near the dam. Standing around the fire pit at midnight with the stayers waving sparklers. The sky was clear and we watched the International Space Station go overhead. I'm not keen on fighting crowds, travelling far or paying crazy money to be near big fireworks on New Year's Eve. Low key, low stress and nearby is definitely the way to go. All the best to you and yours for 2019.

Saturday night chook abduction

The fancy new chook mansion that has housed 14 birds for the past seven months or so needs a big clean out. After the recent heavy rains in southern Tasmania, the yard is a smelly mud bog, and despite removing the bedding and nest box material upstairs regularly, it is disgusting again. So on Saturday night after dinner, David and I ventured out into the dark and windy night to snatch the hens and roosters from their perch and relocate them to the refurbished old picker's hut for the winter. One of us held the door or nest box lid open, while the other grabbed the nearest bird and (despite protestations) tucked it neatly under one arm for the march across the front paddock to their new home. Return and repeat seven times. It was a far more efficient operation than our early efforts at chook catching. All birds neatly deposited on their perches, we retreated back indoors to the fire and a glass of red. It's probably not how we would have imagined spending a Saturday night ten years ago!

As the chooks woke up in their lovely clean winter house the next morning, were they thinking 'how did I get here? Was I abducted in my sleep?' More likely, knowing their generally limited brain capacity, they just got back to the business of pecking, crowing, clucking and flapping. I feel happier knowing they will be warm and better protected from the cold wind and snow when it comes this year. After a week or two of getting used to their new location, they will be able to go out free ranging again and hopefully return to the correct home in the evening.

A neighbourly delivery

We are lucky to have neighbours who've become dear friends. We share a lot of laughs and food and good times. We have plenty of excess eggs to share and my neighbour is a whiz at preserving and bottling. Yesterday morning, this load of 'experimental jams' arrived. I can't wait to try the sloe gin strawberry and the frangelico peach!

And yet, because of where we live, these 'neighbours' are at least five minutes walk away, so we have our own space and don't get in each other's hair. Unlike when we lived in Sydney and had five neighbours on our immediate boundary... we heard every argument and smelled every meal and cigarette. I don' miss that one bit.

Small Farms Expo 2017

We love going to the annual Huon Small Farms Expo out at Ranelagh. We don't have a small farm, just grow a few veggies and have a few chooks. But it's great to look at all the equipment, livestock, seed and feed available and think, "maybe one day". This year there were some great talks from experts, about everything from fencing (how to keep wallabies and possums out, and let your resident wombat in without him destroying your fence) to value-adding to farm produce (in this case, a potato grower who now supplies potato salad to the major supermarkets and makes real vodka from potatoes). Have a listen to this interview with Mark Jessop from the Huon Agricultural Society on ABC Radio's Country Hour about it: he did a great job of explaining why it's such a popular event for people in the valley and beyond. And have a look at this lovely little video from Harcourts Huon Valley showing a drone's eye view of what it looked like on the day.

Country lifestyle inspiration

I've been a subscriber to Country Style magazine for quite some years. It was what I dreamed over when we still lived in Sydney and I was desperate to get out. Finally we moved to our own piece of paradise in Tasmania, and I kept reading. I love the stories about rural people and the beautiful pictures of their homes and farms. But the magazine holders containing more than eight years' issues I'd kept were starting to take up room that I could use for something else. So over Christmas, I read through all of them and cut out a few recipes to try and a few home design ideas, bundled them all up and gave them away. A week or so later, the new issue arrived and the collection begins again.

Bonfire

After a dry spell at the end of winter, before the weather heats up and the fire permit season starts, it's time to burn the pile of cuttings, fallen branches, weeds and unusable wood. A bonfire! Ah the joy of standing around the warmth of a fire outdoors on a cool evening. It brings the neighbours out of the woodwork too.

Making hay

The local pet food store was apologetic. "Sorry we have had to put up the price of hay," read the sign taped to the register. "$19 a bale." It's been a terribly dry season and feed for livestock is scarce. In past years, we've been able to pick up hay for the chook shed at $5 a bale. This year, anyone with bales for sale was really "making hay", as the saying goes.

It's been very tough for farmers, not just in Tasmania. Today I read this great story about a guy from Leeton in NSW who has organised 11 volunteer convoys of road trains carrying $10 million worth of donated hay for farmers doing it tough over the past two years, simply because it was "the right thing to do". Brilliant. I hope that this year the grass will grow and feed will be plentiful. The weather man on ABC Radio's Country Hour program said last week that we're expecting "above average" rainfall in Tasmania over the next few months. I love the sight of freshly baled hay drying out in the paddocks. These ones were in a friend's field down the bottom of our road at Christmas time.

 

The heartache of animal ownership

Our beautiful dog Baerli turned nine on Friday. The downside to owning a large breed is that their lifespan is short. In the case of Bernese Mountain Dogs, 8-12 years is considered good. And poor B has been in the wars lately. She's torn her cruicate ligament in one leg. There's a nasty tumour (thankfully benign) in her mouth. Then she hurt one of her front legs too and was hobbling very badly. On Friday night she wouldn't eat her dinner (for the first time ever), nor breakfast on Saturday morning. Happily she's eating again now. Then on Sunday after a very short walk and swim she was finding it so difficult to get up that she peed on her bed and dripped all the way to the door rather than go outside to the toilet. Yesterday I spotted that her urine was very dark brown. Straight to the vet. A raft of tests ruled some things out thankfully, but we don't know what's wrong yet. It's so hard to see her miserable. We only want to do the best for this lovely old lady.

Then last week while I was away for work, five-year-old Gretchen hurt one of her legs too and was limping. The way she hurtles across the paddock after the frisbee, it's no great surprise, but it's hard to keep her quiet to allow it to heal. She's so desperate to play.

Meanwhile, every time I look at our frail 19+ year old cat Lilly, I wonder if I'm doing the right thing. She's eating, drinking and sleeping fine, but can't groom herself properly, or hear, or see much either. Is she in too much pain? When is too much? I just don't know.

One of the hens has had mites on one leg, which I've been dunking in oil and rubbing gently to (hopefully) help remove them. Yesterday she disappeared. Another hen has some kind of wound on her breast but seems otherwise fine... I don't know what to do.

I wouldn't part with them for the world, but they sure can be a worry. There's so much more than cute and fluffy when caring for our animal family. Every now and then we consider getting some goats or sheep, but I don't think I'm ready for livestock. Especially not after reading a series of Facebook posts by a friend about the birth of calves (to some very obstreperous cows) at their place last month. Now THAT sounded stressful.

Hobart morning walks

I needed to be in Hobart early on Thursday and Friday this week, and as I wasn't confident I would be able to get there with the snow and ice on the roads, I stayed in town for two nights. One thing I do like about city living is the early morning walk or run. At dawn, before the influx of office workers. The main difference between walking or running in the city and where I live is pavement. It's harder on the legs, but it makes weather irrelevant. There's no snow, mud, darkness or frost to deter me from getting up to go outside.

Easter bunny

Along with the hordes of pademelons and wallabies in our front paddock every night, recently we've had more intruders of the feral and fluffy-tailed variety - rabbits. We see them bolting across the driveway as we turn in at night and they leave tell-tale little piles of evidence on patches of bare ground. They are also venturing into the yard, so we decided to try to reduce the population of non-native animal visitors.

He was a day late, but this little guy was in the trap when we got up this Easter Monday morning. I feel half-inspired by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall on River Cottage last week to try cooking them (don't mind a bit of rabbit stew) but in the end we did not eat this one. Maybe the next unfortunate bunny who walks into the trap will make it to the pot.

Power generation

Driving back from Kingston Beach in extremely high winds at midday on Sunday, we spotted power lines down on our road. It wasn't a huge surprise. It was only a few hundred metres down the hill from where they came down last time, but at least this time the road wasn't blocked. By the time we pulled up in our driveway, our neighbour showed up on his way down to investigate why they had lost power too. As we were chatting another neighbour called - he had already reported the outage, so there was little to do but get on with things and wait it out.

It seems these days everything requires power, and not just the obvious appliances like the fridge, the lights and the TV. We need it to pump water from our tank so that we have running water and flushing toilets. We need it to open the garage doors. We need it to work (to charge up the PC battery and the phone and to connect to the internet). David bought a diesel generator a while back and it has proven very useful. He rigged it up via a long extension lead to a power board in the house so we could plug in the fridge and avoid spoilage. We plugged in the water pump for long enough to fill kettles, saucepans and buckets of water. Charged up our phones. Abandoned plans to make ice cream.

Following the last power outage, I entered an ABC Radio competition and won a wind up/solar/USB charged radio and torch. We were able to listen to the radio all evening! I made chicken and vegetable udon noodle soup on the gas stove top, lit all the candles and settled in to read a book on my iPad in the dark. On Monday morning I worked for a few hours in a Huonville cafe and the local library while David visited a customer. The TasNetworks guys were hard at work restoring power as we drove home, and not long afterwards the alarm clocks started flashing and the water filled the cisterns. Power on.

Field of lambs

There is a paddock on the road between Huonville and Ranelagh (we drive past it regularly on our way out to the Summer Kitchen Bakery) that we call the 'field of lambs'. Each spring, it is dotted with ewes and their tiny lambs. So adorable.

Springtime has hit the Huon Valley and there are now 'fields of lambs' everywhere. This one in a former orchard on the banks of the Huon River contains beautiful black-faced sheep and their tiny offspring in amongst the old and dead apple trees. The sight just makes me say "awww" every time I drive past.

A preview of summer

The last two weeks in Tasmania have been absolutely stunning. Sunny and warm. Clear starry nights. The trees have been tricked into sprouting buds and blossoming. The daffodils have popped up. We've been spending evenings outdoors, cider or beer or tea in hand, playing with the dogs, pottering around in the garden, admiring the colours as the sun goes down. All the while, it was technically still winter.

Living a double life

Increasingly, I feel torn between two different lives. The 'corporate' life versus the 'rural' life. One day I'm in a meeting in the boardroom in Sydney in a suit and heels and then off to an industry dinner. The next day I'm cleaning out the chook shed in dirty jeans, gumboots and my Dad's old sweater. The 'corporate me' is on the phone to my team in Beijing, Tokyo or Mumbai, then 'rural me' goes to collect the mail from the post office box 5km down the dirt road and buy the local rag to catch up on what's been going on. The people I know in one life know little about the other life. Variety is good and I love both lives, but increasingly I feel like I don't belong in either. I'm not complaining, I'm very aware of how lucky I am to be able to live where I do and do what I do. And I know most people have a work life and a personal life that are not the same thing. I'm just trying to explain this uncomfortable feeling I have.

Went to Agfest. Did not buy a tractor.

On Saturday, we made the trek up to Agfest 2014 in Carrick for the first time. Somehow, we made it back home without buying a tractor. Organised by the Rural Youth Organisation of Tasmania, this is one huge agricultural festival. There was a bewildering array of farm equipment on offer, including some absolutely enormous machinery with matching price tags. There was livestock, fishing gear, food, craft, irrigation, wine, tools, clothing, services... pretty much anything for anyone in agriculture, from the large farm business to the smallholder. There were sheep dog trials, dressage, a 4WD track, a historic tractor parade, entertainment for the kids - a top day out all round. Apparently it had been pretty wet on Friday, but we got lucky. There was still plenty of mud, but we enjoyed mostly clear skies. We walked and walked all day and finally saw almost everything, before collapsing onto the bus for the trip back to the Huon. We'll definitely be back.

Haircut from hell in Huonville

Perhaps my biggest indulgence is a trip into Hobart every 6-7 weeks for a haircut at a good salon. Yes, I know it's a 45 minute drive. Yes, I know it's expensive. A bit ridiculous and extravagant. And yes, I wish I could just let my hair grow long and wear it in a pony tail. But I look truly awful with long hair and have no skill at all with hair-dos. Plus, I need to look professional in my job. Dreadlocks won't cut it.

When we first moved to Tasmania, I decided to try out a local salon in Huonville, just 15 minutes down the road. A lovely young lady cut my hair for a few months. If I had asked her to do something different there might have been trouble, but she did a very good basic cut and colour. And it was $80, compared to the $200+ I used to pay a fancy salon in Manly in Sydney. I was delighted. And then she left.

The next time I went back, someone else cut my hair. What I came out with can only be described as a kind of mullet. Instead of a straight bob, my hair was somehow long at the back and short at the front. My fringe was crooked. And the kid in the seat next to me at the salon had lice. It was time to find somewhere else.

Next, I tried a trendy kind of place in Kingston, a 30 minute drive away. The result was not much better and the staff were really rude. So I hit the internet for recommendations, and the same place in Hobart kept popping up. I know it's a bit extreme, driving that far and paying that much (though still less than Sydney prices) but to me it's worth every cent. It's insurance against the mullet.

How to make enemies in a new town

Okay, so this is a tongue-in-cheek follow on from my previous post about how to make friends when you move to a new town, especially in 'the country'. Here are some quick ways to stuff it up:

Gossip. Especially in a small rural community, I am amazed that anyone would think it is okay to tell tales about others.

Rip people off. Not paying your suppliers in business, always asking favours but offering nothing in return, not showing up for appointments. In large cities you can get away with this behaviour to a greater extent (sadly) because the pool of potential customers, friends and employers is larger. Word of mouth is king.

Stay at home. Obviously.

Complain about everything. People won't offer you things or invite you places, if you're only going to be miserable about it.

Judge the local cider competition. I have found out the hard way that this is possibly one of the best ways to make enemies! Local competitions take one-upmanship to a whole new level in a rural community. Whether it's a trivia quiz, sailing, baking, art or cider making, it's very serious business indeed, let me tell you. And if you are one of the judges, then the end result is all your fault. It's a quick way to endear yourself to those who win and be forever complained about by those who don't.

The not-so-quiet life

We were under the impression that life outside the big city would be quieter, more peaceful, with plenty of spare time for simply sitting and admiring the view. The opposite has turned out to be true. Well, it's definitely quieter in terms of noise (I find it hard to sleep in Sydney hotels these days due to the traffic noise) but not in terms of things to do. In fact, we find ourselves doing much more here than we ever did in Sydney, partly because it is so much easier. It's easier, quicker and cheaper to drive into Hobart to see a movie or a show or eat out than it was to do so in Sydney. And then there is so much to do in our own local area, and even more as the weather warms up and festival season starts in Tasmania.

The most stressful period at work for me ended at the start of this month. I flew back to Tasmania on the Friday afternoon after a week working at a conference on the Gold Coast, a fantastic event that takes months of preparation from many people and creates a lot of pressure. It's the same every year, so I know what to expect, but that doesn't make it any better. That night we dressed up and went to a Halloween Ball in the Franklin Palais. Saturday morning there was unpacking, chores... on Saturday afternoon, American guitarist Richard Gilewitz and local musician Steve Gadd played at the Palais. Friends handed over a large bucket of herbs from their garden for our chooks. We had a lovely home meal. Sunday afternoon we spent at the

Longley International Hotel enjoying smooth ska and reggae from Hobart band Lively Up! (right) and on Sunday night we were back at the Palais for the monthly movie, this time a truly terrible French film called 'Breathless', enjoying a chat over shared plates of food at interval. The weekend was so full, I didn't have time to worry about the past week, what needed doing or what lay ahead. My left eye stopped twitching, the chest pains stopped and my right arm (the 'mouse arm') stopped aching. I felt brain dead, but happy.

We love the social aspect of life here, going to functions where you know half the room, trying and seeing new things that we might otherwise never have done in Sydney because it was all too hard. If you think moving to 'the country' means becoming a hermit, think again... unless that's what you want, of course.

Fire break

Last Monday afternoon the heavy machinery arrived. Then early on Tuesday morning a bloke arrived to demolish a small strip of bush near our garage. The attachment on the bulldozer shreds the trees and turns them into sticks and mulch spread across the area. So it's a slightly ugly scar on our land right now... but it means the trees are now further away from the buildings. And the chooks and other birds have been enjoying it...

Everyone living here needs to have a fire plan. We all need to know how to prepare our property as best we can in case of bush fire and know in advance what we will do. Our current plan is to go early. Twice last summer we got ready to go as fires approached. We grabbed our box of documents like passports, birth and marriage certificates and insurance papers, got the cat carrier and dogs ready to put in the car. Once we had plenty of time so we packed a small bag of clothes each. Lucky for us, the fires didn't get close in the end. Others in our town were not so lucky.

For anyone in and near Franklin: please come along to the fire awareness evening to be held at the Fire Station in Franklin on Monday 9 December at 6.30pm.

Mailbox substitute

One thing my creative husband was looking forward to about our move to 'the country' was having a cool mailbox. You know, those creatures along the roadside in rural areas: the milk cans painted as cows, gas bottles painted as pigs, microwave ovens, bits of old stuff cobbled together. David's plan was to build a UFO complete with lights and aliens. Only problem is, we don't actually have a mail delivery service where we live. We collect our mail from a PO box at the village post office. So no mailbox required.

Last year, David constructed a 'robot' to attract attention at a trade show. Made out of old computer parts, he had a 'face' that flashed red LED smiley lights. If you opened his 'chest', he played happy birthday (the Stevie Wonder version) or the Star Wars theme, from old musical birthday cards.

After the robot's job was done, he took up residence at first in the garage, then at the end of our driveway. We've seen people slow down for a look. I think he looks quite friendly, but one of the locals who drives past on his way to chop wood up in the forestry told us that the robot freaks him out!