Before and After (the fires)

The landscape around Granite Glen is ever-changing.
Do you remember how there had been some planned burning 'round here recently?
It's something we do when we need to clear some of the old dry grass from the paddocks, and let the new growth burst through... it's a carefully considered move. If you burn too early, it doesn't take hold properly and get much cleared. If you burn too late, you might miss the rain and end up with black countryside going into a hot summer. This season has been reasonable so far (after many years of drought) with some small falls of rain encouraging the new sweet growth. It's a sight for sore eyes... with so many on the land almost despairing of ever seeing a green landscape again.

Wanna see what they see now?
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It is a study in contrasts:

Immediately after burning the old grass.

The same scene, a couple of weeks later.

See those white cattle - they are my uncles, and they are happy. You can tell, as they graze contentedly over the new shoots, tails flicking the occasional fly away. Those are some happy Brahman bottoms there!

Remember this gate?

Yes, this is a gratuitous shot of my husband being firefighter... forgive me!

But I was talking rear ends, and happiness, and this particular hiney makes me smile...

And that same place yesterday ... the gate still works!

And the grass... sweet and lush and good enough to eat!

Last night we had another 13mm (half an inch) of rain. Sweet music on the roof!

I can't wait to go for a drive to see the new calves and check out how the landscape has responded to this last little drink.

There should be plenty of happy cow bottoms around!

I'll drink to that... charge your coffee mugs (or wine glasses, depending on when you read this!)

*chink*

BB

Sunset Yoga

I'm not much into alternative therapies. Don't get me wrong - I enjoy a bit of mediation music with the best of them. I've even done Yoga on occasion and thought it was great. Very stretchy. Invigorating even. But that was pre-Great Dane. Pre-one totally bung knee. (Another story. Another time.)

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These days I find my stress release in other ventures. Chief among them is chocolate-nibblin'. And chardonnay-sippin'. These pursuits, while being enormous fun and instantly satisfying, are slightly detrimental to my derriere. Luckily I have another stress-relieving, soul-soothing activity. Can you guess what it is? Really?

It's photography. (If you've been here before, I do hope you are saying "Duh!" about now!).

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On my trip home from our bull sale this week (and before I knew just what awaited me at home!) I managed to relieve a little of the pre-and post-event tension. My way.

With a little snap of this...

And a little shot of that...

And a series of these...

It took only a minute to stop beside the highway and grab these shots from the window of the Prado...
But the serenity of this vista, with Mother Nature flaring up and dashing the best of her fiery paint palette across the sky, transfixed me.

Stilled me.

And in lifting the camera, setting the frame and clicking the shutter, I felt this sunset work its magic. Soothing the frayed edges of my mood and seeping into holes in my soul.

And the real magic of those amazing moments that take us from day into night is that we all get them.

Daily. And they are free.

Have you stopped to let YOUR sunset work its magic lately?

If you haven't got a camera to help you focus, you can borrow mine...

(the sunset, that is. The camera stays in situ!).

(Let me know if it helps!)

Sale-oh!

We have been away. I actually don't like being away from here very much. Especially for bull sales. It's not that I hate saying goodbye to the bovine buddies who have roamed our house paddock for a few months (actually I do), and it's not that I really miss the rolling hills and ironbark sentries of our driveway (actually I really do), but it's just all a bit of a drama.

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It seems to take weeks to getting organised: photographing bulls, compiling all the information sheets, sending info for vet certificates, weighing and scanning the bulls ID tags, packing, feeding animals, organising people to 'cover' in the animal-feeding department, organising boys' gear, children's sleepover allocations (and packing for them) and babysitters for the one coming with us (for a very exciting dinner/meeting).

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It's also important to leave the house in a reasonable state (read: not too much washing up in the sink and the floors at least visible) for whoever pops in while you are away (a regular bush activity I have found! I am so not good at surprises...). Somehow I managed to tick off my massive checklist of chores (do I hear a round of applause? Thankyou, thankyou!) and even remembered to put the dishwasher ON before driving off. Only slightly smugly. (And you KNOW that's gonna come back to bite me...)

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So fast forward a few hours, and we are at the saleyards with our five bulls and a few jangling nerves. Ever been to a bull sale? Want to see what it looks like?

OK.

Here are the pens of bulls, being inspected pre-sale.

See that big roof in the background?

That's the sale ring proper, where the action takes place...

The auctioneers call out "SALE-O, SALE-O" as the first pens line up outside the ring. And suddenly a lot of vendors need to use the facilities (if you get my drift) and buyers gradually settle into the 'grandstand' around the sandy centre ring.

This is the view inside.

The auctioneers and agents are in the background above the ring, ready to call bids and coax buyers. A vendor is in the sale ring with his bulls, moving them round so potential buyers can see they are good stock, with the right muscling, good temperament and are not lame. See that cute couple (with their heads close together) in the foreground? That's my Mum and Dad...

Hello Pagi, Hello Nana!

They are deep in discussion about the qualities of the bull in the ring. Either that or whether it's too early for a skinny cappuccino. One of the two.

Vendors come in all shapes and sizes.

This guy is a veteran of both the sale ring and show ring.

Hello Reg!

His guys like a bit a extra attention - like having their tummies scratched. It's very calming apparently. (Must try it on SSB when the next credit card bill arrives!)

Here is Jane.

She is very experienced with cattle work, and shows off her bulls beautifully. She is also tiny. This is just one of the (many, many) areas in life where size doesn't matter.

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Of course the action isn't all in the ring... all around, buyers are subtly bidding. It might take a nod, or a hand movement like this...

To get an equally subtle response from the bid spotters like this...

With an accompanying yell of "YESSSSSS!!" to send the auctioneer another $500-$1000 higher in his call... made me quite nervous when taking skinny cappuccino orders, I can tell you. The question: One sugar or two? very nearly saw us bringing home a brand new 1000kg bull! And the world's most expensive coffee...

Yikes!

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Among the various things to keep one amused at the bull sale is continually attempted to see what one's daughter is up to, as bids fly left right and centre, and cappuccino orders get taken, forgotten and taken again.

Hello TLW! Hello Brianna! We love Brianna. She played with TLW for a couple of hours... I think I might owe you some babysitting money, Bree. Call me!

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Of course, the highlight (for us) was the arrival in the ring of our bulls... and SSB. Mr Inscrutable. Captain Poker Face. You don't want to give too much away in the sale ring. And my SSB is the man for the job.

Of course, I could be biased.

But I very nearly put a subtle bid in for the bloke walking the bulls around... then I remembered I was married to him. And therefore get to take him home anyway!
Oh! I see Brianna has had to leave and Nana is now in charge of entertaining TLW. And that can mean only one thing... WIPSTICK!!! Nice one Nana...

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In the end, TLW looked a treat, we OD'd on coffee, chatted up a storm with other cattle people, and most importantly, we sold our bulls. They are going to good homes, which is always nice.

... And on the way home, I reflected on the 48 hours away from Granite Glen. On if the Chinese meal I had picked up would stay warm enough on the hour's drive to Elle and Harv's place (where Dash had been having sleepovers). And on whether the Prado would play up on the way there (as it has been for weeks now). What I didn't reflect on was the one thing I SHOULD have been worrying about...

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WHETHER THE DISHWASHER HAD SHORTED OUT THE ELECTRICITY AND ALL OUR POWER HAD BEEN OFF FOR NEARLY TWO DAYS...

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Yours in yukkiness

(said she, up to her elbows in decaying vegetable matter)

BB

Guest post: Lou Lou visits GG

INTRO: You may recall (if you have been paying attention) that my friend Lou Lou came to visit Granite Glen, after many years of promising to tear herself, her hubby Oby and Chicos (now-four-year-old twins) away from the glorious Sunshine Coast.

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Lou Lou is a wonderful photographer and all-round easy-going groovy chick, with whom I worked on the coast’s newspaper for many years. Lou Lou has been kind/brave enough (cause you never know WHO will interject or edit round here!) to share some of her snaps and thoughts here in my very first ever Guest Post. I'll shut up now.

Really. Well. Mostly.

Go Lou Lou.

*ahem*GUEST POST BY LOU LOU

Starting my long service, leave I finally found the time to visit my good friend and ex-colleague BB on her family farm. Although our stay was short, it was full of fun.

(It was full of chardonnays too, but we'll save that for another post! Shhhh. Who said that?)

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We ventured out to see SSB at work, even lending a hand.

(Helloooo gorgeous! Oh, did I say that out loud. Sorry. *zips lips*)

The countryside was beautiful with a rich colourful history including a town found on BB’s GPS but no where to be seen now except for a lonely palm tree and tiny cemetery.

My cheeky Chico’s had a ball riding on Dash’s Shetland, Rob Roy around the yard and harrassing puppy No Name.

They thought they hit the jackpot when we visited BB’s Aunt and Uncle's place (along with Dash and TLW and their cousin Salina) and found 7 tiny puppies just waiting to be cuddled to death.

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It was great to be with a like-minded friend who didn’t mind when I’d ask her to stop the car every five minutes so I could get ‘one more pic’ and that her gorgeous family were so tolerant of me shooting their every move.
(Well yes, they have had YEARS of training in this department!)

Gotta love 'em cowboy boots.

This was as close as my beach boy husband would get to the bulls, always on the other
side of the fence.

Glad he came along though, the kids seemed to love hanging out with him.

Where there is a puppy, you’ll find my daughter.

Ride em cowboy! My cheeky little man loved his horse ride with BB’s dad.

(Am thinking BB's Dad possibly enjoyed sharing his beloved part of the world, and little taste of horseriding with v. cute city kids, even more!)

There’s fun everywhere on a farm. Dash had a workout running this empty tank around in a shed.

(Could someone PLEASE get this kid some pants that fit!!)

Bush Babe with her beautiful horses.

(Gakkkkk! *Thud!* Someone call Jenny Craig. Stat!)

THE END
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OK Not really.
Here's a lavendar pic Lou took to take the bad taste of the last photo away...


That's better...
Who wants to see what Lou Lou was shooting that day when I took my Mystery Photo of her? You know you do...
Here 'tis!
You tell 'em Lou Lou...

So this is it....the photo I took from while crouching in the long grass at Granite Glen. There are brillant images everywhere waiting to be taken!

Glorious!

Thanks beautiful Bush Babe, SSB, Dash and TLW for letting us invade your home and farm and have a real taste of the bush life.

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No. No. Thank YOU Lou Lou. If anyone lives on the Sunny Coast and wants Lou Lou to take some magic pics of their family/event, check out her website!

I'm off to recover from actually posting a real photo of myself. 'Scuse me. I'm feeling rather faint...

Fixing the trough...

This week, we had a call from a neighbour who had been pig-shooting in one of our paddocks. Wild pigs are hideous and feral and ugly we are more than happy for someone to reduce their numbers and help keep our calves safe. They lurk in the shadows during daylight hours and come out to feed as the sun sets... rooting around with their great horrible tusks digging for grass nuts and eating pretty much anything in their way. They have been known to attack people and are disease-carrying vermin (am I painting enough of a picture here?). I am not too proud to say that I am completely scared of wild pigs. Completely. If I saw one I would completely freak. Completely. I can barely look at photos of them. *Shudder*

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Anyway, our neighbour isn't scared of wild pigs. He shoots 'em. And while spotlight shooting at night, he noticed one of our troughs (water points for our cattle) overflowing badly. So he did his best to stop the flow of water and let us know the problem. He did this after chasing said pigs through a waterhole in the river. In the dark. Damn, but that boy has intestinal fortitude. I seriously couldn't think of anything more likely to make me wig out. Yuk!

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Where was I. Oh, yeah. Our very nice brave (slightly crazy?) neighbour telling us our trough was busted. So the next day (after recovering slightly from mental images/nightmares of chasing wild pigs through water in the dark) we went for a drive to check it out.

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Do you want to know what I took photos of?

My hunky hubby fixing said trough?

Hideous wild pigs plowing through long grass and murky water on dusk?
You don't really know me very well at all, do you?
Here's what I was concentrating on...

Sunsets...

Shooting INTO the sun...

Away from the sun a bit...

Oh, and let's see what happens if we kinda go wide...

Hmmm. Serene.

But there's something a bit, niggling about this shot. Perhaps it's something to do with that sun getting awfully low... what was that? Did I hear a grunt or a snuffle? Ack!

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We hightailed it home (OK me. I was driving!). Because now you KNOW what comes out after dark round here. And it ain't Miss Piggy.

Home James.

And don't spare the horses!

Cute poker: wanna play?

First up, I need to say I know very little about gambling in general or poker in particular. But for this post, let's pretend I have more experience and knowledge than that gleaned from that Eric Bana/Drew Barrymore Las Vegas flick (name that movie?) and watching seemingly possessed people hand over great wads on cash during a two night stay in that very city about 15 years ago. (Yes I was 10 at the time! And no, I won't put any money on that statement!)

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So if you keep this little disclaimer in mind I have a couple of wagers for you.

Firstly...

What could possibly be sweeter than a newly-blooming old-fashioned red rose...

And cuter than a four-week old kelpie puppy?

Care to have a gamble? If we keep in mind the current state of the world's financial markets, let's lay a couple of imaginary internet pennies on the answer?

Give up?

How 'bout a four-week-old kelpie puppy stalking said luscious rose (with quite a bit of encouragement from a certain six-year-old blond boy).

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I walked up from the sheds yesterday to the sight of No Name (our puppy-for-the-moment-whom-we-are-NOT-going-to-get-attached-to-as-he-is-going-to-a-new-home-any-day-now!) carting a red rose gaily around the Granite Glen house yard, with a certain blond six-year-old gleefully giggling in pursuit. By the time I'd located my trusty D100, Dash and No-Name were settled on the lawn playing Taunt and Destroy the Rose.

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And while I felt a little sorry for the lovely bloom, the delight on both faces was more than compensation enough.

Mmmmmmmm... rose petal entree!

My favourite. Thanks Dash!

Hang on... its moving... this thing's still alive!!!

Grrrrrr! Stand back... I'll take care of this dastardly thorny thing!

Grrrr!

Right. That's better. Mmmmm. Tasty.

I am possibly not the most objective person to say this, but someone has to. That could well be the cutest thing I ever saw. (No. No. Not getting attached.)

Anyone care to see me, and raise me?