Happy Easter from Granite Glen

Wishing everyone a wonderful Easter Sunday.

~~~
Wherever you live in the world,
Whatever your religious persuasion...
May the day be fabulous
Filled with joy and laughter
And appreciation.

Of family, of friends, of faith.

Love from the Granite Glen crew
(who will be on a serious chocolate high!)

~~~

Cute Capers - a Trilogy

Whenever there is a gathering around these parts,

my camera lense is (naturally) drawn to the kids.

~~~

Sweet,

unselfconscious,

smiling,

sullen,

silly,

madcap,

darling.

~~~
Take the last two weekends.

It was horsey action all round - campdrafting and rodeo.

But really, the stars of the action were the ankle-biters.

I'll break it up into three parts...

Shall we check it out?

~~~

Cute Caper ONE - Toe to Top

Oh, how Cute are these Boots?

Snapped whilst their owner was banging the heels against the mesh of the grandstand.

Violet would ADORE these.

She already has purple elastic-sided boots though (pics to come)

so her Mum cannot justify adding these to the collection.
Speaking of my colourful daughter...

Nice red hat, dear!

And those very blonde plaits... hang on.

That headwear looks suspiciously like something out of our Christmas box in the store room... hmmmm. She is nothing if not ORIGINAL in her fashion sense!
~~~

Cute Caper TWO - Camera-less Cute-ness

Amid the craziness of a certain 24 hour period

(that involved almost 1000 km in driving time and checking out this chick)

I decided to leave the camera at home for one event.

Just one.

The night-time rodeo (at which our P&C were catering, so I figured I'd be busy).

I should have known that the MOMENT I put that Nikon down,

Cute (with a big C) would break out left, right and centre...

And it did.

I will attempt to describe events in my usual stacatto shorthand way.

Bear with me.

~~~

Kids were lined up, bug-eyed at the two metre high fence

watching grown-up cowboys showin' 'em how it's done.

Steer ridin'. Bull ridin'. Limbs flying everywhere.

Dirt bein' eaten.

(And 'g's being dropped all over the place).

Then as the riders dusted themselves off and geared up for the finals,

the announcer called for the littlest cowboys to line up outside the chutes.

I completely panicked when I heard Dash's name called out,

dropped the burger I was serving and galloped (okay, hobbled fast)

to find out what the heck was going on!

I found half of Dash's tiny school also lined up.

I listened, slightly terrified, to the challenge.

Their task?

To BE the best bucking bull they can be.

One by one, these little men got down in the dirt on all fours,

and bucked their little hearts out.

For eight seconds apiece, they were rearing and kicking up,

wheeling and snorting...

I cannot begin to tell you how funny it was...

I had tears running down my face.

I had that kind of painful silent laughter thing happening.

Then they had a buck off.

Because 80 seconds of kids-being-bulls is clearly not enough.

And again, there was furious writhing and heart-stopping hand-standing action.

More gasping giggles.

The judge stonewalled and the audience was given the final say...

And the winner was....

DASH!

(by a very dizzy head).

There IS footage somewhere.

I am hoping to get my hands on it...

~~~

Cute Caper THREE - Big Ben
And I have to finish with one of Dash's competitors in the campdraft (last weekend).

And the cute factor of THIS one?

Off the freaking scale, peoples.

You ready?

Brace yourself...

~~~

This little guy is three or four years old

in the camp yard with his Mum

(who rode out beside him but NOT leading him)

riding Ben the Clydesdale...

Oh Lord.

If you look closely that kid is so little he could walk right under that horse.

A pimple on a pumpkin, as Dad would say.

It made me all hormonal and a wee bit weepy for some reason.

So they shoo their cow to the front of the yard, called for the gate,

And off... the little cowboy and Big Ben bobbing along gently together.

After a somewhat bemused cow...

and around the first peg.

Oh, there was cheering.

It was loud and it was long.

Much, much more raucous than for winner of the major draft.

People were lined up two deep at the rails and yelling.

Who could possibly compete with THAT level of cute?

~~~
How you going?

Teeth fallen out from all the sweet cuteness yet?

Got a favourite kid yarn?

Please share in comments - links welcomed too...

Blue skies (smiling at me)

(A quick post today as I make the most of my weirdly quiet house, now that BOTH my darling offspring are officially at school. Excuse me if I write this with a slightly distacted air...)

We finally took back the last of the stud cattle to their paddocks on Saturday, after a long week of branding. It was a more relaxed day than normal (we had gone over schedule by half a day) and I had the luxury of actually thinking about taking some fun photos.

This little series were shot as I followed Dash and his cousin S in the Prado - they were tailing the mob north from the yards. Mr Incredible helped for a little way. (Lacey, Dash's wonderful old mare who is 30-something years old and not stupid, decided that after a week of hard yakka, she was NOT keen for a long walk and would very much like to stay at the yards, thanks all the same. She was eventually 'convinced' to shuffle off behind the cows.)

After seeing that our little man was headed in the right direction, a view to the east of the drivers' seat caught my eye. I don't know why - something about the streamers of white clouds fanning out from the gentle green hill and the deep cobalt backdrop.

As I took the shot Cherokee (Mr I's mustering gelding) poked his head in from the right.

He always looks slightly wild-eyed, even though he's really gentle as a lamb and loves a snuggle.

(I love this photo - it's my new favourite image and could well be featured on the next BB banner. What do you think?).

.

Violet had been protesting her lack of a ride all week, and finally talked her way into a seat on the pommel of Dad's saddle for the half kilometre walk back to the yards.

Can anyone say: Glee!

Man I miss those dimples of my little Prep girl already - time to get me busy and distracted with a week's worth of folding!

Splish Splash... rain revellin'

Is there an extension of the old Indian proverb:

Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun?

Something like:

Bush kids and mad Mums race out into the pouring rain?

No?

Should be...

When the sweet drizzling rain set in at Granite Glen, just after New Year,

and we had gotten sick of the inside chores and shed jobs,

Mr Incredible and I bundled the kids up

and arried out a little inspection tour...

First stop is the Big Bridge.

In the old days (say 25 years ago) when we had regular wet seasons that kept the dam below this river close to capacity, we actually used to waterski under this bridge and touch the massive joists as we passed under it.

True story.

Now people just drive over and try hard not to look down at the 3-4 metre drop to the almost-dry riverbed. It's a narrow, one-lane bridge. Fun (or terrifying, depending on your personality)in a big truck, I can tell you.

.

Now we are a VERY long way from filling this reservoir again, but the little trickles are slowly running from the sodden earth and gently replenishing the underground water supplies.

The ground had been so parched and thirsty up until just before Christmas,
that every drop of rain had been sucked into the earth.

But now... now most of the country around us has had enough saturation to allow new rain to run-off.

And run-off means new ponds and puddles and green, green grass.

And you know what happens then....

Some splashin'!

Our next inspection point is the Little Bridge.

Poignant point of interest: the spot where Tuffy was found was just to the right of the approach to this bridge. The spot where his Mum raced back upon being returned to her paddock. Makes me a little sad every time I drive by it...

Bush Lesson: This is a creek crossing. i.e. where the fence crosses a creek.

Like its bigger, river cousins, it is built to fall apart at its centre join, when water floods down the creek bed. Ideally, the force of the water pushes each half to the side of the watercourse, and makes it easier to find the end and put it back up again. Creek and river crossing are NOT my idea of fun - it's spiky, dirty, sometimes snake-infested work - but doing river crossings mean it has rained in this often-dry country, so no-one is really ever game to complain about them.

The Little Bridge goes over a creek, which is smaller (duh) and runs a lot more readily than the river. It had a real 'fresh' going and was lots of fun for the kids to explore

Let's watch things float, Violet...

Let's throw floaty things upstream and watch them float back, Dash...

Let's skim stones...

Meanwhile their Mum is all: Cool reflections!

*Clickety-Click*.

And: Ooh, lovin' the splashes.
And their Dad is all: You want a splash... I'll give you a SPLASH!

Ka-boom!

And just like that... I had my new header.

Thanks darl.

.

Hope the weather is kind at your house...

at the moment we are enjoying a little time away, at the beach.

And the vision isn't SO much different from these shots.

Lucky we love rain, eh?

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.

You know your kid is a real BUSH kid when...

They do this kind of thing...

Unsure whether I should be impressed at the ability of these kids
to amuse themselves

without the need for electronic equipment...

or whether to be

just a little bit...

DISTURBED?

Weekend Updates

Well, it's been quite a week.

Random updates to follow.

.

Update #1 - The Ongoing Poddy Saga

As you may already know if you have read the comments from yesterday's post, we lost our little redhead poddy last night. We think pneumonia may have claimed her - whatever it was, antibiotics and sugared-up, egged-up milk weren't helping her.

.

It was a bit heart-breaking, as she was a lovely little heifer and seemed so strong when she first arrived here on Thursday. Violet seems to have taken her passing reasonably well (lots of lead-up warning may have helped) while Dash was just very curious about the carcase this morning after he and I discovered the still, stiff body early this morning.

Lots of poking and furrowed brow action.

I took no photos of her at any stage.

I still struggle a little with this side of things.

I'm such a sook sometimes.

.

The fact is that we hardly ever have poddies here -

our cows are pretty good mothers and rarely have calving problems.

So that, combined with about two decades of city life,

means I have a lot to learn about caring for them.

It's a learning curve that darned near gives me whiplash sometimes.

.

I still have the little black bull calf here - he is gradually gaining strength after his shaky start in life and is quite a cuddler. Of course he gets pretty overwhelming attention from two little humans so he has no fear...

He is very keen on drinking from an (unwilling) milk donor rather than from the bottle. I am trying not to feel rejected - honestly, the look on this kid's face when I hold the teat in his mouth to tip the formula in is pretty unmistakable.

.

It's a little bit: "Are you completely serious woman?"

It's a tad: "Ugh. Brussel sprouts AGAIN?"

and it's all Crocodile Dundee:

"Well you can DRINK it, but it tastes like sh**!"

.

Update #2... The Sheeky Shetland on Probation

Rob Roy has just come out of the naughty corner.

After raiding silos and behaving very badly at Pony Club,

our resident Bad Boy did penance in the yards for a few days.

Animal activists should remain calm.

He got far more attention there than when he is in paddock.

I hope he remembered a few manners, and I suspect he

MAY have lost a couple of centimetres round his ample middle

but is not up for any Jenny Craig awards just yet.

.

Update #3... The Amazing Mates Department

Let's talk calendars.

The first run is *deep breath* pretty much sold out.

I know. I am gobsmacked.

If you have not ordered and wanted to, drop me a line via email

and I will see what I can do.

I doubt I will do a second run (unless someone orders 40!).

I am more than happy to attempt to get the orders I have correctly into the post.

(If you know me at all, you will understand that paperwork is not my strong point).

I would REALLY like to thank everyone who has supported my

by buying the Beauty of the Bush calendar

and/or placing a button on their blog for me*.

I am speechless at your generosity.

A shot that didn't make the calendar - much to my chagrin - I needed a 13th month!

.

Another one that ALMOST made it.

This fabulous pony - chosen as a favourite subject by many -

survived a bad case of colic recently.

.

I am not making much financially from the calendar venture,

but I am shamelessly revelling in the satisfaction of knowing people

actually like my stuff enough to look at it year-round.

It's very humbling really.

So thankyou.

I know I am a very lucky girl.

Signing off in heartfelt gratitude,

BB

.

*HONORABLE MENTIONS

My wonderful blog buddies who buttoned up for me:

Debby from Life's Funny Like That

Jayne from Our Great Southern Land

Kate from Utah Zen

Tracey from Trace Elements

and thanks to

Rhu from Rhubarb Whine

Kate from Chronicles of a Country Girl

for the mentions.

Reality bites. Or sucks. Or doesn't.

I really wanted this to be a happy-go-lucky, skippedy-do-dah, my-oh-my kind of post.

With all my heart, I wanted that.

Cause it's calving time round Granite Glen.

For the past few weeks, red and black baby calves

have been popping out into the big wide world...

All knobbly knees and amazed ears and unblinking eyes.

It's been terribly, terribly cute.

But lately, well the weather has turned hot and horrible.
And then this week... well, things went a wee bit terrible.

.
Mr Incredible brought a calf home - a little black bull calf, whose aging Mama had died soon after giving birth to him. Here he is.

A orphan, or 'poddy calf'.

All cuteness and neediness.

The kind of neediness that is hard to keep up with.

He has pretty much refused to suck the bottle we make up for him four times a day. So four times a day we mix up his formula, head down to the yards and pretty much force feed the little devil. My back aches from leaning over him, holding his head against my thigh, his chin up with one hand and the bottle aloft in the other, wriggling it to send droplets into his mouth, which build up until he has to swallow. It's painstaking. And the little beggar is not trying very hard.

But he is still alive.
.
AND THEN... my Dad brought home ANOTHER one. Another needy soul.

A lovely little red heifer calf - only a couple of days old (her little umbilical cord still not fallen off) who DESPERATELY wanted to suckle. We tried to get her to drink from the cow who seemed to be her mother, and she tried, but the cow would have none of it. Violet immediately adopted the sweet-faced long-lashed redhead, alotting Dash the little black bull calf.

Both calves have been brushed and cajoled and talked to endlessly.
Terribly cute.

.
But within a few hours of arriving and initially drinking happily from the bottle, the heifer also stopped trying to suckle. She has gone downhill rapidly in the last 24 hours. She is panting like crazy and a bit staggery in the hind legs. We suspect pnuemonia - and have given both calves some antibiotics in case of infection. The bull calf seems to have rallied and even attempted to suckle a second cow brought in to try and help them. A little progress. Fingers crossed.
.
Tonight, though, things seem grim for our little heifer.

She took no milk at all - despite me mixing all kinds of extras in to make it more palatable - and her eyes are dull. Her breathing is even harder. Violet is distraught as we try to prepare her for what might eventuate. I have no pictures of the heifer - I cannot bring myself to take them at the moment. I am saying a little prayer, but am bracing myself for what we might find tomorrow morning... but I can't leave you like that, can I? In a morass of 'keepin' it real'.

So I won't.
.
THIS is what calves OUGHT to enjoy as a matter of course in their busy little lives

- shady rest with Mum under a big bluegum tree.

And milkbars at the ready.
Where the worst thing that happens during the day...

is that some madwoman

rudely interrupts...

while you are mid-suckle...

on the vanilla special of the day.

Getting happy and fat and frothy and frolicky on the good stuff...

.
I am wishing a little of this for our poddies tonight...

Too much to ask for an early Christmas miracle?

Weather Watch - and the Harsh Truth about my Water

It's weather watch time (I do remember my own weekly segment occasionally) but I am spicing it up a little today.
.
And when I say 'spicing it up a little' I mean cinnamon.

Or nutmeg.

Not quite sure.

What do you think?
.
It's my water here at Granite Glen. Not my drinking water - that would be gross. Our drinking water falls from the sky, onto our roof, down our guttering, and (all things being un-holey) into our rainwater tanks.

Not to be confused with our river water tanks.

As you can see from the spill stains from our high tank, bit of sediment comes with the water pumped from underneath the river bed.

And when I say 'a bit' I mean 'a truckload'.

It's hell on whites.

It's hell on white fences, white clothes and cream walls.

I swear this house is going to be repainted orange one day.

(MUM, I am kidding! Kinda. More terracotta really.)

From a photography perspective, of course, the reflections in dark water are great.

Dancing on black water!

And the kids don't care at all... especially doing their 'hose tricks'.

This is 'rabbit ears'.

'Ice-cream cone'.

And 'sprinkler shower'.

...

To my relief the pool is no longer black or even orange.

We have FINALLY got the water clear with much chlorine and creepy-crawly action.

But you know, it's so hot at the moment, I wouldn't care if the water was purple.

THIS is what I am going to be wanting to do pretty much all day today.

OFFICIAL FORECAST

Maximum expected 38 degrees Celcius.

Hot winds.

Less than 5% chance of less than 5mm of rain.

Yuck.

...

You?