Bush Babe bares all...

OK... just so as all the loons who just googled "Bare Babes in the Bush" (or something equally outrageous) know, this is not really THAT kind of blog. I was just having a little play on words.

It's something I do. It's an affliction. Alliteration turns me on.

Oh, stop it!

...

Now where was I? Oh. That's right.

I was tagged by Pam at A Novel Woman to share some of the facts you don't already know about me... and while I am not very good at these kinds of games - ask anyone required to play a board game against me - I tend to cheat. Or 'short cut'. Or completely change the rules. It's my father's fault. He's a stretcher of the rules too. And it is a fault that seems to be hereditary. That's my story, and I'm sticking with it!

SIX THING YOU MAY NOT KNOW ABOUT BUSH BABE

...

1. I am a daredevil. Correction: I WAS a daredevil (before #2 and my family happened). Among the daredevil-ish things I have done (in the course of my job as a photojournalist) include:
- firewalking
- chasing bush fires
- flying over Noosa in a motorised hang-glider (held on by a lap belt only)
- flying in a hot-air ballon over a forest (the single scariest thing I have ever done)
- spent time with Steve Irwin. In an enclosed space. With snakes.
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2. I walk with a limp. I have had multiple knee surgeries. Because of my Great Dane. That's a very long and strange story. Suffice to say: despite having fabulous doctors, the surgeries didn't work. I don't run at all. But I don't really let it worry me too much. I try to get everyone else to do the running for me. Isn't that what kids are for?
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3. I hate bananas. We are not talking a small wrinkle of the nose here. We are talking DESPISE the blinkin' things. Never eaten one in my life. They stink. I would go very close to starving if they were the only thing left on the planet to eat. Seriously. Now, in a freaky and cruel turn of fate, they are also the only fruit my daughter will eat. But not whole. She requires that I peel them (she won't actually TOUCH them) and make smoothies (with no lumps!) before she deigns to imbibe. So I have to smell and feel the blessed revolting things. And I suck it in (not the smoothie, gross!)... I suck in this chore, knowing that the goodness of the banana supercedes all the nerve cringing that goes on in my being during this process. I am a better mother for doing it. I hope she appreciates this when puberty strikes!
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4. I was originally planning to be an architect. I actually studied it for 18 months. Then I met my first Nikon. And fell in love with photography. And remembered how much I loved writing. And the rest, as they say in the classics, is history.
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5. I have a tattoo. Not going to tell you where. Won't tell. You can't make me.
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6. I am four years older than my husband. And darned proud of the fact. I'm his 'older woman', he's my 'toyboy' and I live by the motto: You are only as old as the man you feel. (Sorry Mum!)
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7. I have double-jointed fingers. All of them. My freaky joints are half the reason my knee has never come good - darned thing won't hold still!!

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8. I miss this dirty thing...

and the device that took this photo....Oh, you already knew that?

Well did you notice that this list was supposed to have only six items... I am completely unable to follow rules. It's just how I roll. Now, I am also not going to tag people - although if you do try this then please let me know in the comments so I can come over and see how weird YOU are!

Instead, I am going to ask this:

WHAT IS THE MOST STARTLING & FREAKY THING ABOUT YOU?

C'mon. Share.

It's very cathartic!

Going Cold Turkey...

I am having withdrawals.

I am getting jittery.

And disoriented.

And very hard to live with.

I am going Cold Turkey on not one, but two of my addictions.

And it has nothing to do with Thanksgiving.

...

Why? I hear you ask.

(I can hear you from here, you know!)

Because BOTH of the mechanical things on which I totally rely

are in their respective 'hospitals'.

...

You know the ones I am talking about.

These two mechanical things you see here...

That's right.

My beloved Nikon and my Prado are both in the shop.

Yikes!

...

The camera started playing up the DAY of Jeanie's wedding

('stressful timing' would not be an exaggeration of this particular event!)

And the Prado has been playing up for ages.

And after going to SEVEN different mechanics (I KNOW!) we are hoping this one will finally fix the bloody thing!

...

So we have Bush Babe with no car and no camera.

I can barely put a sentence together I am so traumatised.

And Mr Incredible (SSB) does not enjoy me being all dramatic and traumatised, I can tell you!

...

To distract myself I am actually going to address a list that Pam has nominated me for.

(And if you read this blog at all, you may know I don't like being constrained by rules. So anything could happen!).

I'll do it. Soon.

When I pull myself together.

Unless I go stark raving motherless mad in the meantime.

Wish me luck!

And the Pool Hole Winner is...

(Depend warning alert!)

Holy Freaking Moly.

No, really.

You guys are amazing.

Too funny and witty and crazy by half!

I so heart my comments section...

And once again, I regret that there is no real formula for the judging of my silly contests.

So in keeping with the haphazard nature of this blog, I decided to take the cowards way out.

...

And got Mr Incredible to choose the winner!

After all, it was HIS boots in the photo...

Good enough reasoning for me.

Heh.

A big yellow stripe RIGHT down my back, I know!

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And so, the winner of the Story Behind the Pool Hole is...

DIANE L. DODD.

She took it out with her late entry and her short, succinct and VERY spit-worthy answer - something that totally reflects my hubby's garrulous nature (ha!) and dry sense of humour. We both spat coffee at your answer! We shall have to look that particular game up in Toys R Us next time we are in the Big Smoke...

Congrats Diane and email me for further details.

Kate, you'll get a little somethin' extra in with your photo order for an outstanding effort too! If you want to see what the fuss was about, see the comments here. They are totally worth a visit!

...

Oh. You want to know the REAL reason that hole is there?

Cause one of THESE dug it...

Sorry Deb!

That wasn't kind was it?

But I did post a warning at the top.

(Mr Farty and Shirley at Rhubarb Whine, you can both say "told you so!")

...

At least it wasn't one of these...

...although perhaps having a croc in one's pool yard wouldn't be so bad?

At least it would make sure there were no wild pigs around!

Not sure we would ever get any visitors though...

These are the weighty dilemmas that fill my waking moments!

More splash for your cash...

Don't ask me why, but the two photos of Dash swimming (below) remind me of Bill Cosby... that wonderful American comedian which we would listen to on our cassette recorders as kids.

(Yeah, I know. Old as the blinkin' hills!)

Jeanie and I would listen and laugh our cotton socks off.

Even the bits we didn't understand.

So you'll have to humour me for a moment...

Remember the one about Cosby's take on how women deal with men...

"C'm here, c'me here, c'm here...

Nah!

...Get away, get away, get away!!
...
Ah... cracks me up.
Or is that just my caffeine overload kicking in??
Heh.
Perhaps this little duet of pool pics reminds you of something else?
Song lyrics maybe?
...
Now, speaking of pools, don't forget to get your entries in for this week's contest...
time's awastin' my friends and the entries are starting to get very interesting.
And I have some coffee on hand to spit.
What are you waiting for??

Come on in, the water is clear! And a CONTEST...

CONTEST TIME IS UP!

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Welcome to the Granite Glen pool...

It's a vital part of the setup here, with long, hard, hot dusty days a regular occurrence (and the men work pretty hard too! Heh!). Just the knowledge that a place to cool down awaits our hard-workin' musterers, tractor drivers, fence builders and truckies helps no end with the general atmosphere in our (very big) workplace! The fact that the musterers, tractor drivers and truckies are usually the same few people makes it all the sweeter.

...

But this pool is a pretty special place for other reasons.

It has some serious history.

It's one of the oldest pools in the region... more than 50 years old in fact!

It was the brainchild of my Dad.

Of course.

He was just 18 years old, but had already been running this place for over four years, when the hole was dug for this 'water hole'. It was not with my grandmother's full support - I believe Dad actually pretended that the digging was for a dam for watering animals. I cannot imagine quite how that conversation went, after it became apparent that this hole was perhaps a little too close to the house!

...

Anyway, after realising that a few logs would not provide the water-tightness required, Dad went in search of some more expert opinion and assistance. At the local pub, he discovered a gentleman who had some experience building pools on ships.

Bingo!

For days, he and this gentleman dug. Then carted sand. Then mixed up wheelbarrow-loads of cement which was wheeled into the big square hole. Then painstakingly formed up each load of cement with planks of wood. The faint marks of these boards are still visible on the walls of the pool. And the planks were turned into a fence which still runs along the bottom of our houseyard. Nothing gets wasted 'round here!

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The pool - 17 metres by 6 metres and 2 metres deep at the deep end - would prove popular in this district. It has hosted many a party - family events, polocrosse break-up days, birthday parties. And for almost four decades of it's life it was UNFILTERED! You heard me. Basically, it was a glorified dam. Murky and mysterious. The leaves were scooped out, of course. No-one expected clear blue pools in those days. Mind you, the image of horrid cane toads floating around in the green rippling pool water (double and triple deck! Ewww!) still haunt me to this day!
...

Thanks to my brother, who about ten years ago put his mind and efforts to plumbing the pool up to pipes and a sand filter, the pool is now a place that is pretty much toad and muck free. We give thanks every day for this particular upgrade!

Your blood is worth bottling Pig!

Of course, seeing as how Sven the Pool Boy refuses to show his mug around these parts, it doesn't always reach the heady level of clarity and blueness shown in this pic. Mr Incredible is required to wear Sven's hat (because he doesn't already have enough to do round here!) after I was sacked from the role (with a chronic inability to remember lever positions on pool pumps). I sometimes ask him to take his shirt off while performing this duty. He usually ignores me!

...

This is our Sven-in-training.

He is quite some way off being trusted with the mechanics of the pump and chemical distribution. Can you see why??

Of course, he gets plenty of mileage out of our water hole.

And his Mum does enjoy his enjoyment.

And he is pretty handy as a lifesaver too!

My little Violet (aka TLW) seems to appreciate his efforts (well most of the time!)
...
There is just one thing about the pool that visitors do need to bear in mind when they take a dip in our great pool, however.
It's not the cane toads.
Or the green water.
Or the potentially shirtless pool boys.
*sigh*
It's this...

Can't see what I mean.

Well this brings me something I haven't done for a while...

it's MYSTERY PHOTO TIME!

..............

Can you guess what this hole is for, right beside the pool?

Best answer wins a BB print of their choice.

Leave your entry in the comments section.

Contest finishes Friday, 8pm Aussie time.

Hint: we live very very close to Mother Nature here at Granite Glen.

Postscipt: I should have made it clear in the post that ACCURACY matters little or none in any Bush Babe contest. You WILL get the answer from me in good time. In the MEANTIME however, let your IMAGINATIONS rip. Go wild. Go free. Go crazy.

Ask yourselves: What MIGHT POSSIBLY be down that hole?

I need lots of silly 'colour' in the answers. I need descriptions that make me spit my coffee. Please?? Cause what I really need is more housework to do!

So, go your hardest people! Make me spit!

Childhood moment: The Man from Snowy River

I have been inspired to post this famous Australian verse here today, for a couple of reasons.

Firstly, this great Canadian blogger posted on the Australian Stock Horse and mentioned the Movie of the same name (*sigh*), secondly, I know that quite a few of you love this movie, and thirdly, my Dad is away at the moment and I miss him.

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When were were young, he would to recite this verse to us as we rode along behind a mob of cattle, his baritone voice rising over the mustering noise and dust, and the excitement of this particular well-known Aussie tale rising with the increasing rhythm and pace of the magic of Banjo Paterson's lyrics.

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The poem tells the tale of a herd of wild brumbies who have a valuable racehorse with them, and the group of men who gather to try to get the horses back from some almost-impenatrable terrain in the Australian Snowy Mountain. It's about never underestimating those who may not look impressive at first glance, its about some imposing countryside and it's about underdogs. It pretty much brings tears to my eyes every time I attempt to recite it... but then I am a complete sap!

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It needs to be read aloud. Take your time. It's long. But so worth it.

So I give you:

...

The Man From Snowy River

By Andrew Barton (AB or 'Banjo') Paterson

...

There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around

That the colt from old Regret had got away,

And had joined the wild bush horses -- he was worth a thousand pound,

So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.

.

All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far

Had mustered at the homestead overnight,

For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,

And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight.

.

There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup,

The old man with his hair as white as snow;

But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up --

He would go wherever horse and man could go.

.

And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand,

No better horseman ever held the reins;

For never horse could throw him while the saddle-girths would stand,

He learnt to ride while droving on the plains.

.

And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast,

He was something like a racehorse undersized,

With a touch of Timor pony -- three parts thoroughbred at least --

And such as are by mountain horsemen prized.

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He was hard and tough and wiry -- just the sort that won't say die --

There was courage in his quick impatient tread;

And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye,

And the proud and lofty carriage of his head.

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But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay,

And the old man said, `That horse will never do

For a long and tiring gallop -- lad, you'd better stop away,

Those hills are far too rough for such as you.'

.

So he waited sad and wistful -- only Clancy stood his friend --

`I think we ought to let him come,' he said;

'I warrant he'll be with us when he's wanted at the end,

For both his horse and he are mountain bred.

.

`He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko's side,

Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough,

Where a horse's hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride,

The man that holds his own is good enough.

.

And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home,

Where the river runs those giant hills between;

I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam,

But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen.

.

'So he went -- they found the horses by the big mimosa clump --

They raced away towards the mountain's brow,

And the old man gave his orders,

`Boys, go at them from the jump,

No use to try for fancy riding now.

.

And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right.

Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills,

For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight,

If once they gain the shelter of those hills.

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'So Clancy rode to wheel them -- he was racing on the wing

Where the best and boldest riders take their place,

And he raced his stock-horse past them, and he made the ranges ring

With the stockwhip, as he met them face to face.

.

Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash,

But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view,

And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and sudden dash,

And off into the mountain scrub they flew.

.

Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black

Resounded to the thunder of their tread,

And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercely answered back

From cliffs and crags that beetled overhead.

.

And upward, ever upward, the wild horses held their way,

Where mountain ash and kurrajong grew wide;

And the old man muttered fiercely,

`We may bid the mob good day, NO man can hold them down the other side.

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'When they reached the mountain's summit, even Clancy took a pull,

It well might make the boldest hold their breath,

The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full

Of wombat holes, and any slip was death.

.

But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head,

And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer,

And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed,

While the others stood and watched in very fear.

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He sent the flint stones flying, but the pony kept his feet,

He cleared the fallen timber in his stride,

And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat --

It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.

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Through the stringy barks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground,

Down the hillside at a racing pace he went;

And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound,

At the bottom of that terrible descent.

.

He was right among the horses as they climbed the further hill,

And the watchers on the mountain standing mute,

Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely, he was right among them still,

As he raced across the clearing in pursuit.

.

Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met

In the ranges, but a final glimpse reveals

On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet,

With the man from Snowy River at their heels.

.

And he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam.

He followed like a bloodhound on their track,

Till they halted cowed and beaten, then he turned their heads for home,

And alone and unassisted brought them back.

.

But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot,

He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur;

But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot,

For never yet was mountain horse a cur.

.

And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise

Their torn and rugged battlements on high,

Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze

At midnight in the cold and frosty sky,

.

And where around the Overflow the reedbeds sweep and sway

To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide,

The man from Snowy River is a household word to-day,

And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.

...

And here is the telling of this verse from the movie itself - I reckon Dad's is better, but this'll do til I corner my Old Man and pin him down with a recording device! He is on a well-earned holiday at the moment but I promise to one day post up an audio clip of his version of this poem. There is also a song by Dad's favourite country singer of all-time, the late great Slim Dusty, which I shall try to find also.

Hope y'all enjoy a taste of my childhood...

Bull-licks of Love

How close have you ever been to a bull?

Ever been THIS close??

Well... today is the day.

Ready?

Got your rubber gloves ready?

You'll find out what I mean shortly!

Hello Boy!

This is our quietest Little Bull.

He was a weaner earlier this year, and has been around the house a lot.

We know him really, really well.

And affectionately call him....

D238.

(We're saps like that!)

Hello D238. Wanna show the folks what kinda human love you like?

Mr Incredible and Dash will demonstrate.

You can begin under the chin. A good hard rub...

Then its important to hang onto your Hawaian shorts.

(But only if you are Dash and have no butt!)
Then scratch the dulap (loose skin under the neck).

Nice. And. Hard.

You can also scratch around the tummy.

Bulls like to be scratched where they cannot reach themselves.

It feels GOOOOOOOOD!!!

And to show their appreciation...

they like to sometimes ...

Lick...

Lick...

Lick...

Lick, lick, lick...

Slurp, lick...

Oh. Hello D150.

Good to see you too.

What's that?

You wanna scratch too?

Well... uh...

Good Lord, D150!

Where are your table manners, boy?

...

So Dear Reader... got your rubber gloves ready?

Changes... Incredible Changes!

I've been thinking... and watching movies with my daughter while I fold a MOUNTAIN of clothes. It's a dangerous combination of chores.

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Someone mentioned to me the other day that the names I have chosen for the Cast of Characters here on my blog are kinda mixed-up. They were suggesting it would be easier to have single names for my husband and daughter, rather than three letter acronyms. After all, 'The Little Woman' and 'Serious Sexy Bloke' (while apt) can feel a bit bizarre mid-conversation.

But this person said that 'Dash' was the absolute right name of my little man. Fitted him like a glove!

And I thought no more of this conversation... til today.

.

Then this afternoon I was watching The Incredibles with The Little Woman. It's easily one of my favourite movies (we watch kids' movies a lot at this stage in our lives!). And as we watched Violet peer through her jet black fringe, I looked at my daughter.

Her (admittedly blonde) locks were in their usual disarray and her twinkling eyes peered out through the veil of 'bwonde haiw' at me. And the super force-field of her Mad Face came to mind. Hmmmm, I thought.

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And then, as I pulled burrs from socks, I noticed how Mr Incredible was blond (like SSB) and big (like SSB) and quite handsome in a super-hero-kinda way (like SSB).

Not that SSB wears tights.

Or lifts steam engines for muscle-building.

Well, not often.

Double Hmmmmm.

.

And I thought:

Well, my butt is certainly bigger than it was in my Early Action Days.

Just like Elastigirl's...

And although I'm not as flexible as I once was, I DO have double jointed fingers.

That counts surely?

And if not, then the irony and sarcasm of such a connection would be worth a giggle!

Triple Hmmmmm....

.

And I wondered:

Can one change the names of one's loved ones mid-blog?

And if not, why not?

Will y'all cope if I throw this kind of spanner* in the works?

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*Where spanner = changing names

Where Mr Incredible = Serious Sexy Bloke (SSB)

And where Violet = The Little Woman (TLW).

And where ElastiGirl might sometimes be Bush Babe in disguise??

(Cause a girl can never have too many aliases!)

.

Oh, and I got a new sign-off.

It's not actually my real writing.

But I wish it was.

(Thanks for the idea Cher and Shirley!)

Yours in Super Hero Fantasy...

Sober and stormy thoughts...

Just a quick note to send my thoughts to those who live in my old hometown, BrisVegas...

Terrible storms have ripped through the city three times this week,

and I ache for those who have lost so much in the devestation.

So much damage has been done to property and at least two people have lost their lives in these storms.

Am hoping all those I know there are safe and well.

....

We had a bad windstorm here yesterday which brought down big ironbarks and gum trees everywhere. The damage around the house was limited, as we are careful NOT to have big trees near the building itself. My bother's mailbox was smashed to smithereens by a huge blue gum and we have been snigging logs off the roads in order to get through. We are also hoping all the cattle and horses have come through unscathed. It'll take us while to get round all the paddocks to check.

...

Hugs to those also involved in the terrible balcony collapse in Ascot.

Where an afternoon of happy celebration turned so tragic.

My heart goes especially to the son whose mother was celebrating his graduation, and who will not get to celebrate any more of his precious milestones with him.

...

I will think of him when I pick my son from the schoolbus this afternoon.

Life is so bloody precious!

...

(NB Images from this post courtesy of Brisbane publications - see links from photos)

Watch this space!

Drama is rife here at Granite Glen tonight...

...
It began just as I was reading a bedtime story to Dash...
We were just one page into 'Top Cat' when my six-year-old son's eyes grew huge.

Well, even HUGER than normal...

Chewing frantically on his right index finger while his left hand clutched at his chest, he began stuttering:
Mum, Mum, Mum!

Imagining something dreadful, I sat bolt upright and grabbed his face in my hands.
What? What is it?
He opened his mouth and with half a fist still stuffed between his top and bottom teeth he muttered:
"Mah 'oof az 'obbig!!"

Pardon? said I

(my Dentist-speak not quite being up to speed for fist-muffled conversation).

I pulled his saliva-covered fingers from his mouth.

What IS WRONG?

He smiled the most beatific smile at me and announced:

My TOOTH IS WOBBLING!

Really, REALLY WOBBLING!!!

Watch (for) this space!

Dash's Summer Splash

It's been hot round the ridges here lately...

While snow falls in Canada and Pennsylvannia,

here the temperature rarely drops below 20 degrees (C) in November and the battle to get the pool transformed back from murky winter green to clear summer blue has been on in earnest. Unfortunately, Sven my (imaginary) pool boy has been sacked more times than I can count. And I have sacked myself from the pool duties more than once (although the final pink slip was pretty FINAL after I pumped a third of the pool water down the hill overnight... oops!). The air may have been blue but the water was low and murky!

...

But the battle is almost won. Thanks to my heavenly, hunky, handy hubby. And here to celebrate and to demonstrate the proper pool entry technique is Dash....

...

Ready...

Steady...
Open mouth and leap forwards...

Come in for a full-belly landing...

And achieve maximum spash!
Spectacular Dash... well done.
Now Mummy just checked out the photos and..
Hang on...
that's kinda cool...

Hey, anyone else see the cool patterns in Dash's big splash?
To me it's kinda surreal and psycadelic (baby) ...
I see something that looks a little like cupped hands on the left...
(And no, I haven't been inhaling the chlorine! C'mon, a little imagination people!)

What can you see in this picture?

Besides only slightly-green water I mean.

Australia - should be Hugh-ge!

Tonight is the world premiere of Baz Luhrmann's movie, Australia.

...

Despite the fact that the name of this flick puts me off (seriously, naming a movie after an entire nation? That's a long way to fall, man!)... well, I'm kinda cautiously excited about it.

...

After all, Hugh Jackman with his shirt off... that cannot be a bad thing!

...

And I also love 'Our Nicole'.

Despite the fact that she was married to Tom and owns a completely frozen forehead, she appears to have redeemed herself by marrying the fabulous Keith (oh, I do love his music) and topping it off by popping out sweet little Sunday. (OK, again with the names!).

...

And I am a sucker for grand panoramas of our amazing countryside and sweeping outback vistas. And did I mention you get a glimpse of sexy Hugh sans upper body apparel? It's worth mentioning again... just in case you missed it the first time.

...

So tell me, what's your take on this flick?

And do you reckon it's OK to name a movie after a country?

Seriously?

Conversations with Dash: the wedding photos

I was going through my wedding snaps last night. I wanted to send a couple to my sister to remind her what a lovely day her wedding had been, how much fun everyone had had, and how beautiful she is. (She needs reminding sometimes! She forgets.)

...

My wise little six-year-old-going-on-old-man, Dash, was looking over my shoulder as I pulled up the photos on my laptop. I had this one, taken during the vows part of Jeanie and V's ceremony, on the screen...

And gazing at it, Dash said:

Mummy...

is Jeanie sad or happy in that photo?

I smiled.

What do you think, darling?

He pondered the image seriously and then declared:

Well her mouth is a bit down at the corners,

and her eyes look a little bit wet,

but she doesn't really seem sad...

...

And what do her eyes say? I asked.

He looked more closely.

Then, with absolute conviction he said:

Her eyes say "I love you".

And once again, he was exactly right.

You asked for it...prints and prices

I have been asked on a number of occasions about getting prints from this blog. I am so amazed and flattered that people have bothered to enquire... and I have finally decided to look into getting some prints done up from my snaps of life here at Granite Glen.

...

Initially I will put up some thumbnails of prints I have already sent out to winners of my Mystery Photo competitions. Below are my first batch for sale.

... Fence sitters

(Campdraft images)

Queensland Sunset

(Roads and Views)

Campdrafting Close-Up

(campdraft images)

Bunyip Reflections
(Roads and Views)

Bottle Tree Moon

(Roads and Views)

Campdraft Spurs

(Campdraft images)
Mustering Scene

(Mustering images)

...

NEW AVAILABLE IMAGES

>

Ready to play!

(Polocrosse image)

Old Gate
(Old Stuff)

Jacaranda Petals
(Trees)

Action!
(Polocrosse image)

Wedgetail taking off
(Wildlife)

In pursuit!
(Campdraft image)

Purple boots

(Campdraft images)

Mustering in the rain

(Mustering images)

Waiting for the next mob
(Campdraft images)

Goanna in Gum Tree

(Wildlife images)

Old fence
(Old Stuff)

Emu parade
(Wildlife images)
. Afternoon Ironbark.

(roads and views)

Mama's eye.

(Horses)

Cool Clear Water.

(Roads and Views)

Prickly Pear in bloom.

(Roads and Views)

...

Each will come as an 8 x 12" print. The price will be $35 (AUD) per print which includes postage (discount for batch orders). I will provide bigger prints if people are interested. You will have to work out the conversion for other currencies I'm afraid! I also use PayPal and will take orders via email (bushbabeaustralia@gmail.com).

...

In this email, I will need to know:

1. Your name

2 Your mailing address

3. Which photos you'd like (name under each image above).

4. The number of prints of each image.

.

I will then reply with your total owing and details for payment.

...

I am also working on some montages and having them available in the same way soon.

Here is the very first of these for your perusal:

Equestrian Montage

Images selected by Kate (Utah Zen)

...

Montages are 20x32" (will be posted in a cylinder) and cost $85 including postage etc.

Other prints and montages of images from this blog are possible, but may take more time to prepare. Patience is the key here.

Your patience. Heh.

...

Thanks so much for your interest.

I am still humbled that people even take the time to come back and read my little blog!

:-)

Hugs

BB