Don't be like Bush Babe (Valentine's edition)

Today was apparently Valentine's Day...

I know this because I went to a dinner last night with my beloved (and our progeny). Not so much a gaze-into-each-other's-eyes romatic dinner, as a sit-around-with-friends-and-get-waited-on-by-schoolkids dinner. It was fabulous.

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It was a fundraiser for a local small school (not ours, a big THREE-teacher school nearby). An event which cost (are you ready?) $35 per couple and $5 per child - fees which included a three-course-meal (really nice and well-served) lots of fairy lights and candles, pizza for the little 'uns and babysitting. We ate and drank while others cared for our kids and cleaned up after us. The best value I have ever experienced!

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So we knew it was Valentine's Day because that was last night's dinner theme. But we aren't really into the whole card-giving, bunch-of-flowers, romantic stuff. Today started and ended much as any other day of the year. Not that we don't feel the love (she hastened to add) but we don't save it for a special day in the year. It's pretty random in our household - when the mood strikes. And let's just say it rarely takes the form of a Hallmark card.

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If you subject yourself to my twittering, you'll know that a few days ago Mr Incredible offered to take care of the kids and cook dinner, while I went out in the paddocks to take photos for a couple of hours. It was the kind of offer he knew would ring my bells. Seriously, I couldn't get out of the place fast enough. My excitement was slightly over-the-top - afternoons (as any Mum of young kids knows) is an exhausting parade of unpacking schoolbags, dealing with tired and hungry offspring through food-and-drink regeneration programs, squeezing in last-minute washing loads, preparing dinner and wondering if that sunset will last long enough for you to get a shot once the kids are out of the bath. (For the record, it hardly ever does.)

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So I went - hastily grabbing my camera bag and thanking my husband profusely on the way out of the door. He gave me a satisfied 'Why yes, I AM Husband of the Year' smile. I leapt into his ute and took off in a cloud of happy dust. I made it about five kilometres before I realised I had forgotten the parcel I was supposed to deliver to my brother en route. (Because I have to mult-task, that's why!).

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So I hauled the Toyota around and headed back to the house. With a wry smile, I grabbed the parcel and waved goodbye for a second time. My family collectively shook their heads at my forgetfulness. The word 'typical' rose in little thought bubbles above their heads.

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I got about three kilometres into the much-anticipated photo trip (I had about an hour's window of great afternoon light) when I stopped to take my first shot. Fabulous cobalt blue skies, soaring jet streams towering over rippling hills of succulent green grass... I pressed my trigger finger. Nothing. I looked down at the camera. No memory card.

Are you kidding me?

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Around I turned again, pressing the pedal to the floor to waste as little time as possible on the SECOND return to the house. Head down, I dashed into the office, mumbling something at my slightly-astonished family (is she EVER going to leave?) and out the door again. I slid the card into the back of the Nikon to check I had enough space - yup. A goer.

Off I headed again (fingers firmly crossed as I drove).

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My main challenge for the outing was to get shots of cattle for promotion for our stud. Lucky for me, the recently branded calves and their mothers were grazing peacefully near the road.

YES. I was in business.

They milled around the ute as I snapped happily away...

Lovely. Green with happy bovines. Sweet.

Pretty polled heads posing in the sunshine.

Happy days.

After gathering a nice bunch of cow shots, I drove off. I allowed myself to indulge in a little 'landscape' action (offering some much-needed relief to those who have overdosed on my Shallow Depth of Field period last week).

Bottle trees reaching above the clouds.

More boabs, rampant green grass and red roads.

Almost a sensory overload.

Well it was actually. For my camera.

It grunted, it groaned.

It stopped altogether.

Flat battery.

Yuh huh.

You heard me right.

The World's Most Impetuous Photographer failed to check ANYTHING.

I immediately sacked myself (several times actually),

And then drove home, muttering furiously about wasted opportunities.

I drove by the magnificence of utterly still water in roadside dams perfectly reflecting the dusky skies above?

You will just have to trust me - it was amazing. Amazingly frustrating with NO CAMERA.

Then I looked down and panicked - the low-fuel light was on.

(I braced myself and called in, only to be reassured via two-way radio that there was a second tank full of fule if I just pressed a button. I promptly sacked myself as a bushie as well.)

So please. In matters of photography, or romance, or country life...

Just ignore me, okay?

Because (to steal a line from a fellow Aussie blogger)

the chances I'll learn from this Valentine's escapade?

Approximately...

Focus!

I had to go out and take a photo today.

Of a blade plough.

Ever wondered what a blade plough looks like?

There you go.

It's a big plough that digs deep. And that is all I know.

You can now sleep at night, right?

Sure.

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Now, while I was out, I decided to take FIVE minutes to do a little practising.

Practising my 'Depth of Field' action - inspired by the efforts of so many talented photographers at her place. And (I admit) spurred along a little by a certain pick-cher being listed somewhere.

Pardon the pun.

So here we go...

Purple weeds, at f5.6 and 1/1000 second.

Please note: My lense only goes down to 5.6, but the depth of field is still pretty shallow here thanks to the zoom being at full stretch. Is 'full stretch' a photographic term, do you think?)
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I then found a birds' nest in my car. Don't even ask. Okay, it's been floating around the house for a while after all this happened, and then it was taken to Show And Tell at school last week. And yes, my car DOES need cleaning out. Stat.

Wagtail Nest, f5.6 at 1/800 second (pic below is f5.6 at 1/640 second).

I love these shots - love that the horse hair woven into the nest by the willy wagtails is in focus, while most of my hammy hand is not. If you look really closely at the bottom one, you can see some sort of seed pod (?) on the tiny twig at the back of the nest.


You can also still see the sticky tape - keeping it real!

Then I spotted fences, and recalling how many people had used chains to demonstrate shallow depth of field, I tried this...

Barbed wire green - f 5.6 1/800 second

And I am also LOVING that green!

This one, however, is the one I like the most.

Barbed wire rust - f5.6 1/800 second

It was shot where a fence ran in front of a pile of rusting steel pegs and coils of new barbed wire - hence the rusty red and the blue steel blur in the background. The only PS work done is to slightly up the contrast. *Hand on heart*.

I was torn between entering this one and the one above. I went with the one above... am not quite sure why...

I guess I need to get back to business now.

Sending off blade plough photos and paying bills.

Focus Bush Babe, FOCUS!

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While I am gone, tell me, which shot did you like best? And why?

And did you know what a blade plough was before today?

Wincy...

There are just over 24 hours left in my little contest/giveaway/harvesting of humour... and I thought I might entertain you as you dig deep into your psyche for a punchline in yesterday's photo blog post...

This series of photos was taken at about 10pm, after Mr Incredible had let his horse Trooper out of the yard he gets fed in (he doesn't like to share, our Trooper-Looper). He called me out into the backyard to show me something. "Bring the camera!" he called out. So I did.

My apologies for the photo quality. These were taken without a tripod and with only a torch to light the subject, which had set up house right across our walkway sometime in the previous 3 hours.

He was a little bigger than the size of the palm of a man's hand.

Moral of the story:

Keep your torch handy and eyes peeled while night-wandering in my neck of the woods!

Have I scared you back to the previous post yet?

It's a goer...

OK. It's done.

The calendar has been wrested and wrangled and sorted, and is off to the printers this week. While I had a little bit of an idea of the fininicky work behind this kind of endeavor (thanks to my fundraising efforts for Heartkids when Dash was a littlie) it was still kinda painful working out my apostrophe's in holidays for three different countries. '

Gads.

Here is a sample date page (requested by Gemisht)... please note it is unedited (apostrophe disaster) and I have fiddled with fonts since this version. But it gives you a feel for the layout.

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Orders are now being officially being taken - some earlybirds are in already (thanks guys and gals) and will be first cabs off the rank. (Wonder how many more metaphors can I jam into one sentence? Heh.) The order instructions are here (its easy) for those keen on a enjoying some bush magic on their walls over the next year. (Mr Incredible wants to know how many loo doors it'll end up on. I have promised to run a poll once they are all out!)

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GOOD NEWS: I have managed to keep the price below $30 per calendar which I am kind of excited about. If I was ordering 10 000 of the them I could make it a tad cheaper, but I have to say, I am NOT mailing out 10 000 envelopes before Christmas. Even if 10 000 people wanted them. (Which is a crazy idea anyway!) But the mailing...the addressing, the checking, the sticking down of hundreds and hundreds of parcels... oi! I would have to call in reinforcements and Mr Incredible has made it clear he's not licking piles of envelope flaps. *pouts*

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So instead of cheap, you get limited edition, personally signed calendars.

For just $29 on some really great heavy paper (no curling down, mid-year!).

And you can know it will have been carefully guided into an envelope by my own 'delicate' hands, and handed to my fabulous mail-lady at the red cream can mailbox.

Which I kinda hope looks a little more like this...

Sing with me: I'm dreaming of a WET Christmas...
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To be serious for a nanosecond, I wanted to share the note I penned for the back the 2010 calendar. To share how passionate I am about the images it contains...

This calendar is a reflection of my enduring love of the Australian bush - its unique landscapes, its amazing animals, its action-packed sport and its resilient fun-loving people.
I grew up in the bush, and wherever I travelled, wherever I worked or lived, it has always called to me. I hope you get a sense of this incredible place- even if you cannot experience it first-hand - through this calendar, in 2010.
(Bush Babe)
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I must've had a chardy* before writing that!!

Leaving you with a couple of images that didn't quite make the calendar cut.

Maybe the 2011 could be the Love Licks edition?

*furrows brows in deliberation*

BB

*Chardy = Chardonnay in Oz speak

The Great Hobby Horse Fiasco

Earlier this week I shared a little of our Melbourne Cup day - the finery and fashion. And the cuteness with which I am bombarded. But I kind of missed out on one of the more spectacular of the events. (Actually I am not sure that anything is more spectactular than a dog in a bow tie?)

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There were all kinds of shenanigans going on... especially during the Hobby Horse Derby.

Perhaps you were imagining that only children rode hobby horses? For those experienced in the ways of bush entertainment, the concept of fully-grown hard-working men grabbing the nearest pole-like object and galloping madly down a cleared grassed 'field' is not all that unusual. (Perhaps this happens in the Big Smoke too? If so correct me, please!)

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Shall I illustrate?

This is the host of our Bush Melbourne Cup day - Joel.

Joel was once a rodeo clown - can you tell?

He is also super fast and has a wicked sense of humour... he dressed especially for the race.

Gotta love those rugby socks, Joel! (Do you think he was trying to distract the competition?)

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The men got into teams of two for a kind of relay... the race was to consist of a return trip around a post set up about 50 metres from the start line, with second runner to take the 'steed' and complete the same course. Fairly simple rules. One would think. Shall we see what happened?

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The men lined up their frisky mounts, held them steady... the women shouted "GO"

and they were OFF...

If you can, please take a moment examine the 'horses' - there are some classics.

I particularly like the pink gumboot on the stick.

And the mop.

Does anyone recognise the groom from a wedding I recently photographed?

My cousin Tom got a pretty good start.

And that would be my brother on the far side...

He seems to have been thrown from his mount early on, and has taken to carrying it.

Most unusual. They are a competitive lot, my family.

But my brother has nothing on the wiliness of my uncle...

as you shall see.

See the bloke in the next shot in blue shirt and the hat,

already over the line to take the 'horse'?

That'd be my Uncle T.

An experienced polocrosse player and all round good guy.

Now I can't say exactly what went on next as I have no actual evidence.

(I think I may have been laughing too hard to press the shutter.)

But it may, or may not, have included a minor short-cut being taken by the more mature participants of the race. Which may or may not include my uncle. Like in the MIDDLE of the racetrack in front of EVERYONE. Subtle.

Because, miraculously...

He STREAKS to the finish line!

A clear winner.

And yes, the stewards enquiry is still going on.

(I must check to see if members of my family are on THAT panel too!)

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Oh, and in case you are wondering, the children did get a go at the mocked up horses too...

after the men had completed their 'race'.

Here is my niece Rose showing how it is done...

Somehow that pink gumboot horse looks 'right' with this rider!

Anyone recognise the jockey in second place?

Go Dash!

He never did pass his cousin, but took that in good humour.

He's not a fan of coming second usually, but he kind of adores her...

A little niggly part of me wonders though...

Is he cursing his chance at glory?

And wishing he had payed more attention to Uncle T's dubious race tactics?

Only time will tell!!

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My question to you:

What do you do for entertainment when friends, neighbours and family gather?

And is there cheating involved?

New month, new header, no new weather!

Thought I'd sneak a little peak into the making of a blog header for y'all... no idea if anyone is remotely interested in how I come up with my bizarre 'doorway' into the Bush Babe blog, but thought I'd share a snapshot or two anyway!

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I was driving home from Rock-Vegas yesterday afternoon (a long day filled with driving, grocery shopping and editing video footage... rivetting stuff!) when I saw a photo opportunity. Actually, it's rare that I DON'T see photo opportunities (it's kind of a curse really, just ask my hubby - hell of ETAs!) and I often keep on driving, aware of my schedule. But I made myself act on it this time. The ever-changing landscape and weird dust-tinted atmosphere converged into a really interesting shot.

Well, series of shots.

These were all taken within about one kilometre of highway,

same windmill,

different angles.

Groovy, no?

And when I looked at my blog today,

and then the date,

I decided:

Alrighty then!

Time for a change!

Time to dabble in Photoshop...

So I chose the last of these images (nice and clean to allow for the wording) and pulled up last months banner:

And dragged my old font work across from previous banners

(saved in PSD format which preserves each layer of image and text, allowing me to 'harvest' the basic 'look' of my header from month to month... did your eyes just go all stary?)

So I took the 'Bush Babe' and the 'of Granite Glen' across to my windmill image and began work on a new look.
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If you have been 'round here much at all, you will know that I can't have a 'straight' image in the header... that wouldn't really be me, would it?

A little something left of centre, maybe...

Something like this?

Well, it's left of centre for HIM!!

And yes, that WAS me cracking myself right up there!

I also adore a particular script font I decided on for the taglines -

it's called Jane Austen and it's my current crush.

(Am I the only person who crushes on fonts? Yes, fine, OK. I'm a freak!).

It's lovely and scrawly and elegant.

Therefore it has one of those three things in common with me...

(and if you've seen my chook scratch running writing you will know what I mean!)
So ...

here 'tis.

Dust. Windmills. Bull snot.

It screams ME (this week)...

Welcome to my world!

Weather and Wedge-ies

Life is kinda crowding me at the moment ... in the nicest possible way! I completely missed Weather Wednesday last week (cannot even keep to my OWN rules!).
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I am so freaking busy I can hardly keep track of what day it is - but I have snuck off while my school holiday visitors are nana-napping (and kids watching Dr Suess on DVD) to share a little somethin' special from our trip away last week. We were late leaving Granite Glen (not unusual for me) in the late afternoon, on our way to drop the ankle-biters off with Aunty Neat And Uncle Are, before heading to Rock-Vegas for a rare night alone, before a bull sale the following day.
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Earlier in the day I had dashed into Dash's school for a photo presentation (a little project I had been doing with his schoolmates) when I had accidentally hit a roo with the Prado. It sometimes happens and never fails to make me feel a little sick (I may be a bushie, but I am a girl and killing a creature - even accidentally - gives me serious guilt waves).
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Anyway as we rounded the corner on our away trip in the afternoon, we spied some birds at the roo carcass. Birds who flew off into the trees as soon as we stopped.

Not just any birds though...

These guys...

They are wedge-tail eagles - enormous birds of prey that live throughout rural Australia.

And they are gorgeous in an arrogant, imposing kinda way...

and have been known to lift baby calves from the ground and take off.

It's a little hard to really get the sense of size and majesty of these birds from these photos... and as we drove off I lamented to Mr I that I didn't have a better zoom lense, because we don't see wedgetail eagles too often.

And then we pondered how long it had been since we had LAST seen a pair...

I have only seen one other pair (they seem to always be a couple)

and Mr Incredible had seen a few more, but still less than ten, in the two-and-a-half years we have been here...

WHEN...

We came up a rise and there, before us, feasting on another dead roo was...

ANOTHER pair of wedgies...
I kid you not.

(One had flown off into the long grass, while this one stayed feasting).

I demanded we stop the Prado. Again.

Mr I began to mutter silently about our inevitable lateness.

I ignored his concerns.

This guy was too beautiful!

I am very sorry about constantly bombarding you with carrion this post,

but encourage my gentle readers to focus instead on the amazing bird pecking away at it

(I know... sorry again!)

This bird would be more than knee high in height...

and yes, I realise 'knees' is not exactly an official measure, but I am totally guessing here and knee variations will let me get away with a wild 'guesstimate'!

Of course, I nagged Mr I to keep edging the car closer and closer to the eagle...

finally getting too close for comfort and he took off...

Giving you a good glimpse of the incredible wing span of these creatures...

And also the distinctive 'wedge' shape of the tail

(for which they are named... duh, BB!)

See ya, Big Fella...

And yes, my husband was at this point muttering:

Now? Now can we go?

And yes, we were late.

Again.

Totally acceptable excuse though, don't you think?

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Oh, and weather this week - HOT.

Hot and sweaty.

Currently 42 degrees celsius in the sun on my kitchen bench.

Yah.

Rugged, unforgiving.

We had a long, fun, exhausting Saturday (yesterday) with the kids attending Pony Club and riding their little hearts out. I will post some cute images from that later on.

But not today.

We were lucky enough to get a little rain on Friday night...

blessed, welcome rain.

Only 12 mm (almost half an inch) but still nice.

Enough to settle the dust.

And maybe keep the lawn a little green.

And allow me a slightly longer shower and day off shifting sprinklers.

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But the rain made it tough for one group of people that same night.

This is a helicopter which flew over our little town

as the kids rode round the show ring,

preparing for next weekend's gymkhana.

We all stopped to look and wonder about it.

It arrived from the west of town

landed at the hospital for a few minutes

before taking off and heading back towards the coast.

Then we realised.

A man had been missing since Thursday in some heavily timbered and rough countryside near here. As with all country areas, he was someone we knew (or knew of) - a government worker who lived here and knew the area well, walking in rugged bush to the north of our place.

We only found out hours before this photo was taken that he was missing.

He was last seen a few kilometres from my uncle's boundary and - according to news - reports he was carrying a mobile phone, hand-held radio, a GPS unit and a compass.
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And this chopper had been in the search party,

flying over looking the rough terrain looking for a sign of life.

It was confirmed last night.

The missing man was found not long before we saw that helicopter yesterday afternoon.

He did not make it.

Our conversations today are sombre,

the reality of the dangers of this place hitting home.

My thoughts and heartfelt condolences are with his family.
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This country we call home:

she can be beautiful, but she is also rugged.

Unforgiving.

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Puts whinging about sprinkler shifting right into perspective, doesn't it?

WORLD Weather (and roof) watch WEDNESDAY

I will admit (up front) that I am not here.

Not here at the computer anyway... and some would argue not all here, ever!

I am actually travelling to another Big Town with Mum to help her choose a stove for her new house, and get stuff for my Dad's 70th birthday celebrations this weekend.

On the road again!

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Nonetheless, I am scheduling this post for my World Weather Watch Wednesday in the hope that everyone is still keen to share their outlook with the Granite Glen mob? Hello? Anyone out there?

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And to make it slightly more interesting I thought I would give you a look at our roof.

Yar, you heard me. Our roof. For without our roof, I wouldn't be in contact with the outside world! Cause that's where the dishes are...

Please meet our TV dish (on the left) which brings me four different state's worth of ABC (cause you can NEVER have too much ABC!), Channel 7 and Imparja (a Northern Territory flavoured amalgam of channels nine and ten - crunchy!).

And the internet satelite dish is on the right... we have a kind of love-hate relationship, the internet satelite 'broadband' dish and I. I love clouds (the real ones that bring rain and relief to our parched grass, not the teasy, fake kind as illustrated above). The broadband satelite dish hates clouds - it shuts up shot the moment it cannot see blue sky (or even stars at night, there is no tricking it!). Sometimes it goes r-e-a-l s-l-o-w for kicks, even whent the weather is clear. Oh how I long for city broadband, the kind that whizzes so fast your hair stands on end. But bush beggars cannot be choosers... not city broadband for me!

*sigh*

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Enough of my whinging... here is today's

Weather for Granite Glen:

MINIMUM - 1 degree (C)

MAXIMUM - 22 degrees (C)

CHANCE OF RAIN - less than 5% of less than 1mm (i.e. buggar all)

Mostly sunny (fair dinkum?)

So coat, jeans and t-shirt weather, and above average chance of decent internet access... shame I won't be there to enjoy it!

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What's the sky like in your neck of the woods?