Saturday, February 20, 2010

Day 139

I had crazy dreams last night about parties and some massive uni campus and buying dozens of bottles of Killawara Dusk champagne and hanging out with a bloke who's not my husband and accidently leaving my baby boy (which I assume was meant to be Darby) in the car in the summer time and a woman by a roadside pay phone screaming hysterically that I had left a baby to die in the heat ....

Something was making a lot of noise in my dream. Lots of snorting and tooting or something. A wailing baby perhaps. That woman still screaming only her voice was getting deeper and deeper sounding like a fog horn. Ships in the harbour? Fog. Where am I now? The sound was getting louder as I started to wake from my wretched dream. I started to realise it must be someone's snoring ... the guy in the dream? As I came further to consciousness I thought of Derek and before opening my eyes reached over to poke him from the snorathon ... not Derek ...Darby. Darby is snoring? Yes he is, but that is not the noise. My eyes still closed I realised that the dawn birds were obviously maturing because their voices were getting deeper. Adolescent birds going through the change. With my eyes now open I realise I am not at home at all, nor am I at uni, or killing babies, or at a harbour. I am at the farm. I am home with Mum and Dad at the farm at the noise is in fact the cattle moo'ing in the distance outside my bedroom window.

As I sit here and type in Dad's study I look out the colonial style windows with their little square divisions that make the outside world look like a series of photos. A beautiful green, leafy, hilly series of photos with gum trees, cows, horses, hay bales and farm sheds. There is a fog over the yonder hills which is lifting to cloud level showing green smudged with white smudged with brown and a crystal blue sky appearing underneath. As I refocus my long distance vision to near sight, the picture frame windows show me a lush green vine snaking along the awning of the verandah. Yep, it is one of those verandahs the length of the house with chairs, and a coffee table, plants and a telescope, trimmed with shrubs and flower beds flowing onto a green lawned yard bordered by a heritage green picket fence dividing the house from the paddocks and all that farm life has to offer. Sigh. It's just so beautiful, and peaceful and wonderous.

I am here this weekend so the kids and I can say goodbye to the farm. Don't worry, Mum and Dad aren't leaving the house block, but they are selling the majority of their land for retirement purposes. There will be no more cattle farming on the Great Dividing Range. We are all getting dressed in our jeans and boots to take a ride around the property to say one last "horrah" before the new owners take over. I will be taking my camera and my tissues. I will let you know how it all goes.

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