Monotones and My Girl

One of my favourite bloggers is holding a little contest on her blog at the moment. It's calling for black-and-white images from bloggy photographers, and while I don't tend to do the 'who has the best photo' thing too often (I really don't think my shots are technically up for it) I entered one image I had taken of my girl on a swing in our back yard.

.

I chose this one....

Because I like the movement and the bokeh and the sharpness and the anonymity of it.

To most people, it could be any little blonde girl.

Any little girl flying high in a swing in any backyard.

But it's not.

I know those untamed curls.

And that loose grip that speaks my girl's confidence and joy of heights.

And the hand-me-down t-shirt from her big brother.

Every pixel of this image is familiar to me.

Perhaps that's why it speaks to me so?

If I wasn't being technical (and let's face it, that's pretty much all the time) then I'd choose this image. There is no missing the toe-curling joy here. Or the smile of her proud Daddy in the background. There is no other little blonde girl that this could possibly be.

This pic makes my heart sing. Pure and simple.

.

Actually, it might be the little person being photographed that has that effect on me.

She's stubborn, diminutive, sparkly, feisty, loving, sweet, fiercely loyal and ...

it's her birthday.

I love you more than words (or pictures) can say.

The Mail Run - by BB and Violet

We get mail twice a week here at Granite Glen.

Our lovely mail lady (who travels hundreds of kilometres each run) pokes our bundle of bills and papers into this old red cream can about one kilometre from the house.

It sits beside a little green shed - a multipurpose venue for parking bikes in (ours when we attended primary school a couple of decades ago... OK three decades ago...) for larger parcels, for calves seeking shade while their mothers forage, and even resting the occasional resting snake (yuh-huh!).

(I wonder what on earth is Violet doing in this shot?)

.

Anway, yesterday the shed was housing something pretty exciting, discovered when Violet and I did our bi-weekly mail check.

No not the dog food - well, okay, Axel was probably excited about that delivery.

The boxes on the little bench.

Let's see what's in 'em...

Look familiar?

They ARRIVED!

The inaugural Beauty of the Bush calendars.

In boxes.

In the hot dusty old bike shed.

Near the calf poop.

Doesn't the ROMANCE of it all just knock you out?

Violet didn't care - here she poses delightedly with December.

I am pretty happy with the product - its printed on really heavy paper which means it shouldn't curl while hanging on your wall next year. I hate curly calendars, don't you?

.

So I am about to attack the posting out side of this project.

Why don't I let Violet take the last few photos of our parcel-pickup while I get organised?

.

Violet-view of the mailbox...

Oh dear...

Violet-view of Mummy picking up the boxes.

(Sorry bout that!)

And Violet-view of the well-stacked, half-opened calendar boxes.

Oh, and here is what Violet was doing beside the shed earlier:

Tussle of the Titans

If you are a regular reader here, you will already know that two of the major 'characters' in the Granite Glen story are not huge in physical size, but gigantors in personality. And you might also realise that Mr Incredible and I hope - despite the towering determination and stubborness of each of these two little dynamos - that they might make a terrific team someday.

Well, yesterday, that dream was tested out rather severely.
.

It was the final pony club rally day of the year.

Hello Violet - our almost-five-year-old going on thirty-five-year-old daughter.

And hello Rob Roy - our six-year-old roly-poly, super-smart 'sheeky' Shetland.

Violet has been led on her little chestnut pony for a while now - she'd love to be off and riding on her own but has not mastered him yet. Yesterday, FINALLY she been getting mentally on top of her stubborn little steed. Rob Roy is a great little fellow, as long as he understands that HE is not the boss. And if he thinks there is the REMOTEST chance that he MIGHT be boss, he's a naughty little beggar. He stretches his fat little neck down as if to eat (his favourite position) and then grabs the bit and ambles in whatever direction takes his fancy (generally NOT the one his rider want to go in, and often wherever he last spied something edible).
.
The two were going great guns despite his shenanigans - Violet had the technique of GRABBING one rein hard and hauling on it to pull him around and then flapping her little legs until he gave in and ambled reluctantly back to the correct position. There was lots of encouragment from her Dad, cheers from her instructor, and clapping and "good girl"'s from the sideline peanut gallery (me) as she had little win after little win on him. Her confidence grew by the minute (even as her little hands were getting raw from the effort of hauling him back into place - considering she is just 15kg and he is about ten times that!).

.

Here she is guiding him over a small jump - not bad for a four-year-old.

Soon after the series of photos above was shot, Rob Roy tried his technique again.

He lowered his furry red head, grabbed the bit and snaked off towards the gate. Violet was pretty tired and her cousin was already at the entrace to the arena (some 50 metres away) and she let him go. We called to her to try harder and then Dash and Lacey tried to intervene and walk back to the group with her. Rob Roy sensed he was about to get into serious trouble and took off - the more Dash tried to help, the more darty and unresponsive he became, and the more Violet's cries for help escalated. As we all climbed into the arena to help her, he took off. She yelled, slid off the side and crashed into the gravel.

.

Pandemonium reigned.

Violet was in tears, Mr Incredible was furious at the pony, and Rob Roy was very, very nervous. As well he should be. For his troubles, he got to have a rider MUCH closer to his own weight and FAR stronger. He was put firmly back in his place. Violet soon calmed down (she's a tough little cookie) and climbed back on, but remained on the lead for the rest of the session. Her back was grazed and red, and the confidence she had gained was fairly frayed around the edges.

.

Nonetheless, after a sleep in the truck on the drive home, she woke refreshed. While still sore, she was upbeat about her day, and we focussed on how great her riding had been.

.

One thing that DID manage to really put a smile back on her dial was THIS little fellow. A poddy.

It's a little bull calf whose Mum died a couple of days ago (she was pretty old) and who will now depend on us to raise it. (Kids are ecstatic, their Mother not quite so enthusiastic). Another mouth to feed. Great.

.

Ah... but it'll be worth it, methinks.

The (unnamed) calf is not keen to suck from a bottle yet, but was happy enough to slobber and tug on Violet's floral shirt (much to her amusement). All injuries to body and pride were forgotten as she tried to get some formula milk into the little bovine. (He actually seemed keener on grain, but we are persevering).

.

But the dimples were back and her dreams were sweet last night.

A typical day in the emotional rollercoaster that is a kid's life in the bush.

A big day for a little girl.

Any Rain Will Do...

I had an awesome comment in my Weather post this week that I could not leave unacknowledged.

...

The fabulous Rhubarb Whine was inspired (or harrassed) into action by my constant harping about rain (or lack of it) and set her busy mind to our drought dilemma.

She proceeded to re-write the lyrics for "Any Dream Will Do" -

sung (when one googles the lyrics) by one JASON DONOVAN.

(Uh huh? Oh, that's right. Joseph and the Technicolour Dreamcoat. Right.)

...

And seeing as how I actually managed to capture some of the drops of H2O that fell immediately after I published that Weather Watch post (it was amazing, sprinkling down for a good 15 minutes, putting 9.5mm in our dusty rain gauge) along with Violet's frolicking in the shower, I decided to put pics to lyrics for y'all!

...

Presenting VIOLET and RHUBARB's ANY RAIN WILL DO

I closed my eyes,

drew back the curtain to see for certain what I thought I knew

Far far away, Bush Babe is weeping,

but the clouds are sleeping

Any rain will do

I have a coat,

with plastic lining bright colours shining,

wonderful and new

And in the east, the dawn is breaking,

and the world is waking

Any rain will do

A crash of thunder,

a flash of light

could this be it, some rain tonight?

But the clouds are fading into darkness

I am left alone (ahhhh!)

May I return to the beginning

The light is dimming, and the clouds are too

The world and I,

we are still waiting, still hesitating

Any rain will do .

How cool was that?

Could NOT have said it better myself!

...

Note: the rain did not reach more than 3 kilometres in any direction. It pretty much fell RIGHT on our house and my uncles house nearby. Kinda weird. Nice, but weird.

Beach Weekend: Snapshots #3 (Violet)

Our weekend beach getaway was a loud, hectic, busy, fun affair.

I unpacked, made nachos, poured chadonnays and gossiped with friends.

And slept in until 7am.

Bliss!

Mr Incredible did the same (without the unpacking and food preparation)

He supervised the surfing lesson, figuring that made up for his lack of domestic efforts!

You already know that Dash learned to surf.

And tried to figure out his cousin's rip-stick.

And swam. Froze. Thawed out. Swam some more.

Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera!

...

And Violet?

Well Violet checked on me a lot. It's what she does...

She's my little shadow, especially on thong-shopping expeditions.

And she collected shells.

She is an avid collector of stuff.

Doesn't matter so much WHAT stuff...

balls of horse hair, stones, random playing cards...

etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

...

Violet recruited her cousin and fellow Kindy-ite, Little K for shell collection duties.

It's marvellous the uses you can find for a coffee takeaway holder.

...

Our daughter is an interesting little person...

She's a funny, independent-yet-dependent little soul.

She's adorable and strong-willed and stubborn and gorgeous...

Full of spunk.

She amazes me each and every day.

And I wonder:

How DID I - the person least likely - end up a Mother?

and

How DID I end up Mum to the two most amazing little possums in the world?

Would you mind letting me know when you figure it out?

...

I suspect the answer is deep in those fathomless brown eyes above.

I'm just gonna gaze at them some more.

Gymkhana Joyride

I know, I know...

I have been sadly neglectful of my blog this week.

Has anyone noticed?

Never mind, don't answer that (the echoing silence might depress me!)...

I have NOT been sulking that Roger Federer lost the final of the US Open (after I gave him a massive rap and jinxed him in my last post), and it's NOT that I have been sipping lattes and playing ladies (can you IMAGINE that?).

...

I am afraid to admit that life has kind of OVERTAKEN my blog. School presentations, catering cook-ups, new people moving onto our property, bull sales and a bit of travel have played havoc with my normally constant posting. But I have still been snapping away, never fear. I will be playing serious catch-up with my backlog of images, I can tell you...

BRACE yourselves people!!

...

Now where were we before Life Rudely Interrupted?

Oh yeah.

The Gymkhana.

I should warn you, this post is lengthy and filled with cuteness.

Yes I am biased, but lets just say it contains

toothless grins and jodphurs and Shetlands...

'nuff said!

...

THE GYMKHANA

It was a warm Spring Day at Granite Glen last weekend, when we hauled our kids from their slumber, jammed breakfast into their yawning smiles and pushed their tracksuited bodies out the door and into the vehicles. The truck and Prado were packed with chestnut ponies and buckets, saddles, jodphurs and helmuts (respectively).

...

The two ponies had been washed multiple times in the days before the event, leaving one corner of the houseyard with a chestnut-hued carpet of used horse hair. Rotund shetland Rob Roy and his ancient old lady friend Lacey were pretty bemused by all the sudden attention, but put up with it for the price of a sheaf of lucern hay per session.

...

On arrival at the showgrounds, we primped some more. We brushed, we trimmed, we even painted little hooves black (to Mr I's disbelief). I am afraid this Mama grew up imbued with saddle soap and curry combs and a dog-eared copy of Happy Horsemanship beside her bed.

...

It paid off...

Lacey was almost unrecognisable from her former shaggy appearance (although you would recognise those half-closed eyes anywhere!).

Here Dash and Lacey warm up with cousin M and his pony, Selwyn.

How darned cute are the outfits?

Kids in white shirts and jodphurs could be eaten with a spoon...

Our team lining up ready for the 'marchpast'

(perhaps it should be shuffle-past in Lacey's case?)

...

Can you handle more jodphur-white shirt cuteness?

And can you handle a SHETLAND and a Mr Incredible into the bargain?

You cannot say I did not warn you!

*sigh*

And now for a mass jodphur shot...

For the record the home team (us) won the marchpast.

And Violet and Rob Roy got a pale mauve ribbon for 'presentation'.

The crowd went wild.

And then the events proper began...

Dash and Lacey 'jumping' ... my heart was in my mouth for his entire round as he had never really jumped properly before, and despite not knowing where the start OR finish lines were, the pair took out the blue ribbon in this event.

We all very nearly busted.

It was all very formal, with Dash's group of four competitors being shadowed by myself and my sister-in-law Neeta.

We took turns sashing.

It was very democratic.

Thanks Aunty Neeta!

And here Neeta's daughter Em gets the red ribbon.
She was very impressed with the colourful contrast it made with her previous purple ribbon.

And this kind of reflected the laid-back nature of the contest (at least in the 7-9 y.o. age division):

Blues are nice and all, but a pattern of happy colours was just as satisfying!

...

And did I forget to get some coverage of my daughter in action?

No indeed...

Please witness the Rising Trot in the Flag Race.

That sound? That's me busting again.

(With pride, silly!)

Would you check out the high stepping on Rob Roy?

Seriously, as soon as we painted those weeny hooves black, he was breaking out the moves!

And that neck? Not LONG enough for all the ribbons people.

He was as proud as a little furry overweight cockatoo.

...
And by the end of the day the ribbons festooned and fluttered from riders and steeds like they were mobile Christmas presents...

It's utterly gratuitous, I know...

But kids, riding boots, jodphurs, white shirts, ties and piles of ribbons?

Simply cannot be left alone by a Mother's Nikon...

please just take my word for it!

I did experience a moment's concern when my son walked away...

Where IS that child's bottom?

Honestly, joddies do terrible things to a woman's thighs, but do they enlarge my son's rear end in the same manner? No. They do not.

It's an equation I JUST DON'T GET!!

And another mysterious series of additions had us all gaping in amazement...

Dash not only won a little trophy for getting somewhere in his age group...

Fangs very much!

...he also took out boy rider of the meet!!!!!

That's a TRI-COLOUR ribbon to add to the loot!

And that expression is pure 'stunned mullet'!!

...

You know, I was going to end on that amazing victorious note.

And then I decided on this one of Violet and cousin Mol...

Which I like to call The Debrief Session.

But then I just HAD to use this one...

Over and out from Granite Glen's Gymkhana crew!

Zzzzzz.....

A tale of two pony-clubbers

This weekend our little local town is holding a gymkhana - the very first one our kids have ever been to. And seeing as how we have only actually attended Pony Club itself three times in total with them, our expectations for ribbons of any colour are quite low.

...

Actually I will just be happy to have our two line up reasonably kitted out and have the day finished with a few smiles and the minimum of tears.

Our children are two very different little people.

Violet is usually confident and strong-willed, but can be clingy with her Mum on occasion when the wheels begin to wobble.

Dash has a sometimes nervous personality, but when he finds his footing with something, it's all guns blazing...

And so it is with Pony Club.

Violet and Rob Roy are a great match.

He is stubborn but once put in his place, is a terrific little fellow. However he nipped Violet a couple of weeks back and she lost her nerve with him a little. And he knows it. Horses are freakily psychic like that. They know if the person atop is worried about them and they can play up to it.

So Violet has been back on the lead with her little chestnut roly-poly Shetland. And as some of the other younger riders are also on leads, she hasn't minded this 'little kid' set-up.

Of course, this means she also gets the attention of lots of burly men, so the incentive to get independent has not been great...

That was until two days ago.

I had convinced Violet to have a little practice ride while Dash and Mr Incredible were out in the paddock getting in a cow that needed some medical attention. She was procrastinating about climbing in the saddle when I mentioned the words 'horse' and 'gymkhana' and 'competition' in the same breath.

Oh my Lord.

...

A look came over that girl's face (I imagine a bit similar to the one mentioned in this story) and suddenly... it's all guns blazing! She climbed on top of that little pony, demanded I take the lead off the bridle, and kicked him into action. The look of surprise and shock on Rob Roy's furry little face was priceless. He rolled his eyes and took off trotting, causing Violet to miss her stirrup and began sliding down one side of the saddle.

My heart was in my mouth and I thought:

Heaven help me, she's going to get a buster and there goes her confidence in five seconds!

Apparently I don't know my daughter terribly well.

...

As the pair jig-jogged haphazardly off around a gate I saw one little hand reach up for the pommel, grasp it and begin hauling her sliding body back up the side of the pony. By the time they had done a lap of the far yard and headed back towards this worried Mum, she was back on top and bobbing with the hugest grin on her face.

"I done it Mum! I showed him who's Boss!"

Gobsmacked I silently pulled Rob Roy up, pushed Violet's boot back into the stirrup, and went to put the lead back on. The reaction was instant:

"No way Mum. I don't need that thing.

LET. ME. GO!!"

And off she went.

Bobbing and dimpling the whole way.

And over her shoulder she declared:

"I'm gonna win!!"

Talk about competitive...

I am not quite game to tell her she'll have to be

back on the lead for the gymkhana.

...

On the other hand...

Dash adores just riding.

His issue is more knowing what to do in competition.

I know he looks like he's paying attention to the instructor here.

But he is listening as closely as his fabulous old steed, Lacey...

Which is not much.

As long as 15 people have done the course before he has, he's got half a chance of knowing where to go. That and his mother calling out instructions loudly from the sidelines.

He really doesn't care too much.

As long as he's almost cantering...

Trit-trot, trit-trot....
D'ya think he loves doing this stuff?

Wish us luck for Sunday please...

Methinks I'll have earned my chardonnay by nightfall!!