Sometimes, you just need to SHUT UP...

and let

Mother Nature

do the

talking.

Amen.

(All shots taken within 1 minute while talking on the phone to Dash's teacher. Sorry Ms P. I was listening!)

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.
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And when I say 'spicing it up a little' I mean cinnamon.

Or nutmeg.

Not quite sure.

What do you think?
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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?

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.
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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).
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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!).

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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.

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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.

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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.

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!)

.

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

Gimme Gimme Some Lovin'

Letting the pictures do the talking today...

Axel with Mr Incredible.

Proving once and for all that

ANY attention is good attention,

...as far as Danes are concerned.

Oh, and one more thing,

to keep things in perspective:

The End.

Calendar Girl...

I have been a wee bit distracted with a little project over the past week or so...

my folding basket is erupting like Vesuvius

and my garden is crispy at the corners

and my patio is ankle-deep in leaves

to prove my level of distraction.

Sometimes my life just like totally gets in the way of my 'art'...

or, as my hubby likes to call it:

'are you still on that computer?'
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I asked a little while ago if readers thought I should put together a calendar of Bush Babe shots - images of some of the strange characters, amazing outlooks and breath-taking action from my life here in rural Australia. And apparently you thought I should.

All 25 of you... heh!
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Now I am not expecting to do a Pioneer Woman here, and hit the New York Times best-seller list (*applause, applause*) but it would tickle me to know that someone, somewhere, is enjoying a 'Bush Babe moment'.

Perhaps they might find themselves smiling at a cheeky goanna, as I did when I shot this fellow (with a Nikon) on a drive through the paddock one day.

Or gazing in awe at a massive wedge tail eagle slowly lifted

from the burnt-orange dirt road,

as I did when travelling with my family late one afternoon.

Or even admiring the saturated hues of a red-fruited cactus

against a vivid blue sky,

as I did while exploring with Mr Incredible one day.

In my (overactive) imagination, this calendar might infiltrate

some corners of my home state (Alpha or Redcliffe or Atherton),

trickle through some mailbox elsewhere in my country (Adelaide or Perth or Tassie),

and maybe even find its way into some far-flung wall of a home

in Pennsylvania or Paris or Tulsa or Montreal.

.

How utterly COOL would that be?

(Heck, I'll be stoked if Dash's teacher comes good on a order for one!)
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I admit that I have been a little obsessed with this project (those around me here will testify to this unreservedly) and I managed to chose most of the month's images based on those you suggested here and here.

(Thanks so much! What the heck would I do without you?)
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The front page has caused a little more pain -

and a whole lotta earache for my long-suffering hubby,

and random family members and hapless visitors to Granite Glen -

having morphed from this:

to this:

to this:

And then ...

Mr Incredible (who bills himself as the 'concept man')

came up with this cracker idea:

He suggested I take a snap of my trusty battered Nikon

and add one of the favourite images from this blog.

It took some fiddlin...

but here 'tis:

You like-ee?

I reckon I married a keeper.

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It's being sent to the printers this week...

Any more advice peoples?

Lord knows I cannot make a decision on my own!

A little less conversation, a little more Axel...

So apparently I haven't been sharing enough

of a certain member of the Granite Glen household lately...

someone whose personality is as big as any character list on my sidebar,

and whose growth rate is about ten times any other youngster residing here.

.

THIS guy...

Axel Rose(berry) the First.

Our pedigree Great Dane and official Ludicrous Houseyard Decoration.

Hello darling... you happy, crazy, silly dog.

Or as my father might say: That Great Waste of Space.

We are working on the Dad-Axel dynamic.

We've a little way to go yet.

Old Bushies just don't 'get' House Dogs.

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Axel has grown UNBELIEVABLY since arriving here* just seven months ago.

He arrived looking like this!

*If you click on link above you will see how amazingly he has become like his Mama!
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Invariably, people will gasp upon seeing him looming over the

houseyard fence, and announce in dramatic tones:

"MY... oh, my, he's so... BIG!"

and look at us incredulously.

Like we hadn't noticed that little fact previously.

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He is a member of the family now.

Not a replacement for our darling Coz,

but his own special 'person' nonetheless.

A happy, goofy, smiley pooch,

a guard-dog extraordinaire (well, he's loud anyway)

and excellent boot minder.

He'd love to be a swimmer too...

but he's just too scared (he IS a Dane, after all!)

so he is official onlooker and boot protector for the time being.
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To give you a little perspective of his massive size,

here is Axel being a SuperDog,

with Dash the SuperHero.

He weighs over 50kg

and his shoulder reaches my hip.

He is loveable, laughable and huggable.

He'll never be a Rhodes Scholar

and he poops scultpures the size of a small building,

but we love him anyway!