And they call it...

Okay, enough with scaring the pants off you all... so sorry about that.

It hardly ever happens, really.

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In my defence, I really didn't quite understand the effect of unleasing an image of the deadliest snake in the world on an unprepared audience. I shall give you fair warning next time, I promise...

Well, I'll try.

How about if I just shout "Depend" in the intro and that'll be your cue to cross your legs and grab the nearest brown paper bag.

Okay?

Okay.

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So to make up for all that incontinence-inspiring excitement, I give you...

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A P U P P Y !

Cruel's litter are now ten days old, and keeping SSB and the kids out of the laundry "mess room" and away from Cruel and the pups has been... a challenge (to say the least)!

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Dash and TLW have naturally been entranced and constantly volunteering to "check on Cruel" for me. My daughter arrives back from each foray downstairs to confirm loudly that she has NOT touched the puppies, just LOOKED from the doorway. Hmmmmm.

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SSB has been besotted from Day 1.

My big strong, silent, sexy, serious bloke has fallen in love.

With the very first ever litter of puppies he has really experienced.

I had no idea, and kept wondering where he disappeared to at half-hourly intervals while he was in the house.

Then I followed him.

To the laundry.

To Cruel.

To the puppies.

Awwwwww....
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The cranky old lady of the house (that would be me) finally let them get one and have a proper cuddle yesterday.

And here's what all the fuss is about.

How. Seriously. Freaking. Cute. Is. This. Thing?

Gads... even with it's eyes still fused it's 'aaaawwwwww'-inspiring.

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There are three boys - that's right. Boys. We had a minor gender mis-identification at birth and have our fingers crossed that no serious long-term psychological damage has been done to the poor little tyke. We are furiously saving for therapy.

They are also the fattest little one-week-old pups in all Queensland.

Ten teats divided by 3 pups = seriously obese baby canines (burp!).

They are like little ticks, they are so fat.

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So is all forgiven now? D'ya all love me again?

Have I made up for the awfulness of yesterday's post?

Good.

Now let's put this little fella back in with Mama Cruel.

Oh, OK. One last pat then...

You can look again tomorrow.

If you are very, very good.

Sssssuper engrosssssing!

'What the?' Wednesday...

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Dash was utterly mesmerised at the local show by one display in particular...

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He stood in this exact pose for about half an hour

during this particular demonstration...

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Can you guess what it was?

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It wasn't the dodgem cars

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It wasn't the laughing clowns

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It wasn't the showjumping horses

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It wasn't the woodchopping

(although he did think that was 'pretty cool Mum'!)

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And it wasn't the led bulls

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Or the colourful chooks

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It was this little fella...

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The Fierce Snake

The Deadliest Snake in the World.

I don't think Dash blinked for a good 20 minutes...

His Mum, well, she was not so keen, and made sure the nice man packed it safely away in it's hessian sack home at the end of the show! Then she made the fatal mistake of googling it when she got home:

"A single bite from the Inland Taipan contains enough venom to kill as many as 100 human adults, or 250,000 mice The average venom yield of this snake is 44 mg, with a 110-mg being the largest recorded yield. Its venom is 50 times more toxic than that of the Indian Cobra and 650 - 850 times more toxic than that of a Western- or Eastern Diamondback. The Inland Taipan has an extremely neurotoxic venom which can cause death to an adult human in as little as 45 minutes. Although highly venomous it is a relatively timid snake provided that it is left alone."

OK... timid they may be, but when one bite can lay out 250 000 mice?

Not cute at all, my friends, not cute!

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(BTW I highly recommend the jumping castle for its distraction value when one's son is overcome by Steve-Irwin-itis.)

Beyond the black stump...or in the 'burbs?

It's all a matter of perspective I guess... as to whether we are 'remote' or (in fact, as my Dad claims) actually "practically living in the suburbs" here at Granite Glen.

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I mentioned last post, that we get a tad busy socially 'round here. Now that doesn't mean too much, until you take into account some of the distances we cover to Get Somewhere.

Some rural road facts to digest:

GG to closest shop (Town A) - 45km or half an hour drive*

GG to closest big supermarket/Target (Town B) - 120km or almost 1 1/2 hours drive*

GG to closest "city" with a shopping mall - 260km or 3 hours drive*

GG to closest Big City - 450km or 5 hours drive*
(*each way)

This means that anytime I want milk or bread or when TLW attends kindergarten, it's almost a 100km round trip to Town A.

When I need something a bit specialised, it's three hours out of my day spent travelling, to Town B.

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And when I need to do a Big Shop (i.e. to get stuff in bulk at half reasonable prices, or specialised parts for various machines, etc) it's option 3, with a sleepover with my beloved sister. Which is nice, and we get the bonus of catching up, but it's still two days gone from my week.

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And if we ever actually gird our loins and head to the Big Smoke (aka Brisbane/BrisVegas) to say, see a concert or visit Ikea (shudder!) or take in some Serious Retail Therapy, then it's a Big Deal involving suitcases. (You should note that my only trips to Brissy since moving here were for A) a wedding, and B) to Ikea (double shudder) and purchase a new lense (oh delight and joy!). It hasn't exactly been a regular outing. Ten hours of driving. Hmmm.

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To some this might seem a long way and a lot of driving - I'm getting used to it again (after being a city chick for a couple of decades and taking the old corner store - usually five minutes walk away - and museums and concerts and shopping malls, sadly for granted).

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I make a much better list than I did 18 months ago, when I first arrived, that's for sure! Nothing more frustrating than arriving home in a cloud of dust after being "in town" the majority of the day, and unpacking over $400 worth of groceries, only to discover the most important ingredient for tonight's dinner is still on the shelves at Woolworths. The air has been know to turn a spectacular shade of cyan. The list is vital. I like check boxes on mine. I'm a first-born control freak.

However, there is always a story to add some perspective to your situation. My brother has a mate who lives in the 'Territory (for Americans, the Northern Territory is to Austalia as Texas is to the US of A... everything is bigger!). Their sprawling cattle property is (you ready?) about 600 km from the nearest town... you heard me. Six hundred flamin' dusty clicks... to the nearest shop. Of any kind... geez Louise! Imagine running out of cornflakes at a vital moment? Or (worse) getting a flat tyre an hour into the drive, with little kids on board? Makes us look like we are - well - in the 'burbs. Bloody softy that I am... what's a mere hour's drive?

Nothin'...

So I remind myself of that 1200km round trip to the supermarket, whenever I'm up to here with sitting behind the wheel. I put Keith Urban or Robbie Williams (well I am half-breed city and country!) on the stereo, pump up the volume... and DRIVE!

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Of course, it's always great to get home again.

The view is usually a sight for sore eyes...

Catching up at Granite Glen...

You know how you hear about the "slower life" in the country...

Well, I'm here to tell you...

it's a big fat lie!

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You can't tell by recent posts on this blog, (in fact you'd think I've been doing nothing if you went by my posting activity) but it's been really hectic 'round Granite Glen this last fortnight.

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First we had Dash's 6th birthday...

At which he received many marvellous gifts, including a watch...

And Dash's mother went to the extraordinary lengths of actually baking a cake (I'm not particularly gifted or enthusiastic in the catering dept) in a groovy puppy pan loaned by Dash's aunty. It tasted better than it looked (chocolate mudcake with white chocolate icing!)...

Dash celebrated with school friends and neighbouring family (and, yes, he was a tad protective of his candles... TLW had her head removed from the scene via a handful of hair when she inspected too closely! Brotherly love!)

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Then we went to a field day* at a property some three hours drive away...

Where we joined others to check out the latest know-how in the cattle industry...

And we also snuck away to glean some ideas for stables and general construction...

And loo decor!
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Then we had the local horse race meeting...

at which hats duelled with horses for the crowd's attention...

I suspect the hats may have won by a short neck...

The vision in the brown and orange is possibly the most stylish aunt in the world...

Is this girl not one of the most gorgeous things ever?

A little Marilyn action guaranteed to get the boys hearts a'racing!

And here are the boys, in traditional Aussie race-goin' garb.

Please note the unanimous pose, one hand wrapped around a stubbie or UDL and the other stuffed in a pocket. Attitude is all, my friends.

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Then Dash and I got the dreaded lurgy (aka The Flu)

(you can do without pics on this one)

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Then we had a funeral to go to ...

(an amazing day, post to come)

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Then my sister came to visit...

And brought Salina for a romp with cousins

(there would have been photos but I was still concentrating on being upright post-flu)

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Then we had the local show...

At which we donned our best hats and show-goin' gear.

(I'm not sure what is happening with Dash's attitude or legs here? He's not bandy yet - just needs a butt to hold those pants up! TLW however, was all guns a'blazin'!)

A soon-dishevelled Dash soon met up with a little mate, whose hat has as much character as Dash has lack of butt! Note the trademark pants-hitch!

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There were all the usual enticements: laughing clowns and dogem cars and horse events and...

Woodchopping!

These boys are fearless, risking life, limb and an attack of vertigo to entertain...

Those axes are razor sharp... and it's a looong way down from that board!

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We also caught up with dozens of friends, watched a rodeo, perused award-winning jams, quilts, cakes and photos, watched hack classes and showjumping, and checked out the districts best chooks!

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So as you can see, I've been 'distracted' of late...

Can you imagine the state of my house?
Makes me feel like crawling right back into bed again!

I'm off to wrangle this house into the ground (or at least clean out some fridges!)

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May the dust have contendedly settled in your corners too!

BB

Bovine buddies...no bull!

I haven't talked too much about cattle to y'all yet...

and that's a bit crazy when Granite Glen is a cattle property.

Really, we live, eat (literally) and breathe cattle.

(Apologies to my vegetarian friends: I'm just telling it like it is! And seriously, what did you expect?)

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So in case you are remotely interested in our specialty, I thought I'd try and explain our "product" in reasonably simple terms.

So if you think you'd rather look at pretty pictures, try here.

Creepy creatures can be found here.

New puppies are here.

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But, as incentive for dipping your toe into a whole 'other world, there is a reward at the end of this "lesson" below too...

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GRANITE GLEN BOVINE LESSON #1

We have beef cattle - the kind you eat (as opposed to the kind you get milk from and whose pictures you find on butter containers).
Our particular breed of beef cattle is Brangus.

What the hey, you say?

OK, hang onto your hats... here we go!

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You have probably heard of Angus cattle?

And Brahmans?

Well, Brangus are derived from these two almost opposite breeds.

Firstly you have ANGUS...

They are, in technical terms, a Bos Taurus type of bovine: black, stocky and fairly hairy.

(I could make analogies to humans here, but shall leave that thought-provoking process to you!)

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Then you take BRAHMANS

They are Bos Indicus, and usually taller, sleek with humps above their shoulders and smooth-coated (shorter haired).

They have a rep for being wild and aloof (mostly ill-founded) and I think they are quite gorgeous and elegant and a bit like ... what's-his-name?

(yep, see you in the comments section for further discussion!)

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A long time ago, when pretty much all cattlemen around this area bred Hereford cattle (the hairy ones with red coats and white faces), my Dad decided to try something new. He was sick of the disease and the ticks which infested his animals and wanted something a bit more suited to our conditions. It gets hot and dry, hot and humid, and damned dry in both hot and cold weather here. Our cattle need to be tough.

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Dad's father had passed away years before and he was just 18 years old at the time, running a property with his mother. He decided the new-fangled Brahmans (originally from India and tougher and more resistant to the problems engendered by our hotter climates) were appealing.

But he also liked Angus cattle - they are, he reckons, just terrific little beef makers.

So he combined the two.

And got the forerunner to this. Isn't he gorgeous!

(Got your bovine goggles on yet? To me, he looks like the Will Smith of cattle!)
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Quick Aside

A 'breed' happens when genetics are consistent - so a "first-cross" (i.e. the first generation of offspring) are never considered part of that breed. It takes about five generations of consistent breeding before a Brangus is considered a "true type".

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Anyhoo, he tried Brangus, this young upstart from the bush.

And more than fifty years later, Dad hasn't changed his mind one little bit...

They are, as they say on "Idol", The Bomb!

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I grew up with them. Black, sleek, beautiful cattle.

They come in red too (did I forget to mention this?).

Some folks are biased in cattle colour - so we give 'em a choice!

Me, I have a fondness for the blacks.

Just 'cause.

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One of the best jobs on the place (in my view) is handling the weaners.

These are the older calves who have just been taken from their mums, to let the cows recover and then get in calf again for next season.

They are a bit sad for a couple of days, then they decide eating is preferable to whinging.

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And I get to have some of them in our home yards to quieten.

It's a time-consuming, non-glamourous task - far removed from one of my old jobs, where cream Cue suits, manicures, slingbacks and perfect makeup were mandatory. This job requires me to wear something very practical and warm and spend at least an hour morning and night up close and personal with beings who really don't care in whose direction they burp and poo.

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I stand with small lots of these teenage bovines, offering them sheafs of green hay (which they REALLY want) and standing quietly. Some carry on like prawns, others just watch til they overcome their fear and come close enough to take a bite. It's amazing how quickly they respond, and soon they are milling all round you hustling for a mouthful. They soon forget you are another scary species, and look forward to your visits, with their faces peering keenly through the rails for the next session.

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(I wonder if anyone's ever tried the same technique on wayward human adolescents?).

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And there are some special ones that have all the right attributes and are nicely behaved that get to represent our stud at special shows and sales. And even when they are big and scary-looking, they are still gentle at heart.

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Like so...

Hello my little blue friend... how are you today?

Hmmmm.... finger-lickin' good! Kinda salty...

Now if you want to really do something for me, it's itchy a bit lower down... my hooves just won't reach...

Ahhh... thanks mate!

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It's almost weaning time here... I can't wait.

I wonder who I've got this year??

Of Bunyips and Bluegums...

I wanted to post something dreamy and nice after my last vile effort.
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Sorting through my photo archives I chanced upon these photos, taken a couple of months ago.

And I decided to go a bit Dreamtime instead...

They show a place in this district known to locals as The Bunyip Hole.

Bunyips are a bit like the Loch Ness Monster or the Irish Kelpie... mysterious, mythical creatures.

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The fact that they are AUSSIE mythical creatures means that we seem to parody it more than revere it. (Think: Norman Lindsay's amazing and funny children's book, The Magic Pudding). We cannot help it.

We have no sense of occasion.

Comes from our convict background...

"Beg pardon, Maam!" (tugs forelock!).

Where was I? Oh. Bunyips. Right.

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According to Wikipedia:

Descriptions of bunyips vary wildly. It is usually given as a sort of lake monster. Common features in Aboriginal drawings include a horse-like tail, flippers, and walrus-like tusks or horns. According to legend they are said to lurk in swamps, billabongs, creeks, riverbeds and waterholes. At night their blood-curdling cries can be heard as they devour any animal that ventures near their abodes.

Charming!

Wikipedia goes on to say that Aboriginal folklore may have passed down the memories of an ancient 'Australian megafauna' from some 50 000 years ago! Enough to keep you setting up camp a fair distance from the billabong in those days, that's for sure. They hint at the night sounds made by possums or koalas could have been mistaken for the bunyips mighty roar...

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To my knowledge, no-one has ever actually sighted or recorded evidence of a bunyip at OUR Bunyip Hole.

But I'm certain enough teenagers have had campfires and beers (and whatever) near the rattly old timber bridge beside this waterhole, for any kind of apparition to have gained 'local legend' status.

I (being the boring realist that I am) am more interested in the trees here. They are Blue Gums - a eucalypt which is found along watercourses and grows enormous and ponderously elegant.

When the sun is strong, they cast deep heavy shadows across the creek flats and when the clouds descend, their white and grey scribbled trunks glisten and reflect any moisture in the air or at their base.

To me, these marvellous trees lend more of a mysterious air and age-old beauty to the place than any non-existent monster.

Of course, that doesn't mean I'm ever, ever gonna camp near at the Bunyip Hole.

I'm not crazy!

Whinge alert!

I apologise for abandoning this blog for the past 48 hours... I've been busy.

Busy going for the Guiness Book of World Records in the regurgitation of one's stomach contents section. Dash has been pacing me. He still holds the record.

I won't bore you with any more sordid details ... except to say that you CAN type on a laptop lying down - but only if it is propped sideways on the bed beside you.

But you CAN'T type too hard, or else the laptop falls over.

Just in case you ever need to know.

I'll be back real soon...

*Air hug*

BB

It's a Boy! (and a girl and a boy)

I hope you have already voted in my very first poll ever - because TIME's UP folks!

In the wee hours of last night, in the corner of a very messy room in our laundry, some babies arrived. A little black boy, and two little smoky grey babies (a boy and a girl).

They look a little like rats (which, as you may already know, I am not fond of) ... but they belong to one very proud Mama.

CONGRATULATIONS CRUEL!

So if you voted for 1-5 puppies in the poll, you are the winners (only three of you clever psychic things chose this option). You can count them for yourselves in this pic... the little smokey fella is especially shy (or asleep under mum's hind leg!).

Unfortunately I have no prizes to hand out... you just have to wander around enjoying that warm inner glow you get from being right. I do it all the time... it's an art form.
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We knew something was afoot when she looked at her dinner bowl last night and turned around and headed back into her chosen hidey hole. Refusing food is unheard of - at least by working dogs at Granite Glen. They have the uncanny ability to inhale food like vaccuum cleaners.

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Last night the weather turned cool - heading to around 10 degrees (C) for the first time this year. But we knew our expectant mother had chosen her den well...

Cruel had set up camp in a lovely warm private spot to have her babies.

I am donating the pillow and blanket she snuggled (and pupped) on to the pups. I don't think I want it back again. (No offence Cruel!). Eu d'Doggue just ain't my chosen scent.

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But something interesting has happened to Cruel...aside from having three little rats attached to her belly.

She has changed personality overnight... once a shy, submissive dog ...

She is now one protective bitch (and don't wag your finger at me, I'm allowed to say that!)

Note the change in the position of her ears ...

That expression, as I take photos of her little family, says loud and clear:

You can look but you can't touch, human!

I'm a Mama and don't you forget it!

But she is one loving Mum, as she licks and nuzzles this little girl back into position.

They still look like little rats, but if I squint and look through a mother's eyes, I am starting to see the "cute" factor...

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Cruel of course, doesn't really give a rats what I think...

And that's the way it should be.

(Brown) eyes have it!

I have brown eyes... very dark brown. Brown skin, brown hair, brown eyes. Unrelenting brown-ness. That's me.

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And in the way of women the world over, I have always wished for something OTHER than what I have. I wished for blue eyes. Or green. Or grey. Pretty much anything except brown. Muddy, boring brown. I dreamed of contact lenses (the ones I don't need to actually see any better) that would alter my eyes to something lighter and more glamorous.
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My husband has blue eyes. Glorious blue that can go a bit green when his mood changes. The kind that catch your eye clear across a smoky pub when you are least expecting it. And my mother has huge cornflower hued peepers - the kind that can nail you to the spot when she's cranky, or suffuse you with happy warmth when she's proud. Expressive.

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So I kinda thought my offspring had a chance at catching the blue-eyed gene. Surely. Dash actually did have beautiful navy blue eyes for many months, then grey, then finally, at about age two, brown. Huge, twinkly, light brown. Expressive.

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TLW was more certain with her iris colour. Brown baby. Just like Mum. But she had dimples so I got distracted from my yearning for blue-eyed babies.

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Then, a few days ago, when my neice was visiting, I decided to take some photos of the three kids together. The adore each other, these three.

Salina was a constant in Dash's life from the very beginning - visiting when he was sick and regularly ever since. She's kinda like a big sister - bossy and loving and filled with energy.

(Note to Jeanie: Big sisters are cool).

And she has amazing brown eyes.. Salina's eyes were the very first thing I noticed about her at birth. And I mean literally AT BIRTH. I was there (a huge honour and incredible introduction to one's very first niece) and she arrived with those huge brown-black eyes open. I was smitten from the very start.
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Then I noticed the eyes these cousins shared. Not muddy or boring.

But brown velvet, warm coffee and deep amber.

Full of the promise of love and laughter and challenges and broken hearts...

And expressive!

And twinkly...

Why can boys never take things seriously...

this one at least!

He's the class clown... can you tell??

Brown baby!!

It's the new blue...

BB

PS It's pretty groovy in horses too!