Sunday, February 21, 2010

Day 140

Yesterday turned out to be a little waiver-esque in the end. We weren't just cruising about looking at the scenery and waving to each patch of farm as we drove about, we were put to work to bring hay and machinery from the farm down to the house block. I was driving a truck pulling a trailor full of hay (well, not a truck, a ute, but on account of the trailor it was very waiver-esque for those around me) and later I was hooning about on a motorbike! Yep, quite waiver-esque for this piece of deep fried fruit.

Let me tell you about "the farm". I didn't actually grow up as a farm chick, but rather in a house in a street in a large country town. But from the time I was around eight years old we always had a small patch of rural land in which to run horses and a few cows. Yep, I was a pony club pal and spent most of my weekends kicking about in jeans and boots and cowboy hats. In my mid-late teenage years keeping my nails nice became a bit of an issue, and I was torn between the dusty sweat of paddock bashin' and the allure of being a lady. The lady bit won out in the end, but deep in my soul is a paddock bashin' lass who feels complete peace standing on a hill looking out over grass, trees, cows, horses and the overall simplicity of nature. So although the farm hasn't been around for very long, it's the getting at one with nature and the knowing that if all else fails I can run back to my parents and the comfort of the land if necessary. Something I have done from time to time. I am seriously going to miss that. It's my security blanket. My safety net. My comfort.

"The farm" and the house block are separate. The house block was bought 25 years ago and is on around 25 acres (they didn't build until I had left home for uni), then some time later Mum and Dad bought a huge whack of land which at one point was around 800+ acres in total, and they have been slowly selling it off since to invest the funds for retirement purposes. Dad has been working the farm in his semi-retirement for over ten years now and this final sale is allowing him to join Mum in retirement freedom. So to get to the farm you don't just walk out the back door, you actually drive up a country road about ten minutes and there it is. So that's what we did yesterday, drove up and back from the farm to the house block as we carted hay and farm machinery to and fro. I was driving because Dad was taking the tractor back and forth to lift hay and carry tractor attachments back to the house, and Mum couldn't drive as she is still living in a life without feet. (For someone supposedly staying off her feet she sure is on her feet a lot at the moment! More about that another day.) So what better way to say horrah to the farm than to actually be working it! I think that highlighted to me that as wonderful the property is, there is a bloody lot of work involved in owning it, and I'm sure as hell not going to do it.

Later in the day we took the kids quad bike and Dad's motorbike up there for a some driving up and down the bush tracks. I have driven a motorbike twice before - once about 20 years ago, and again a couple of years back. It was definitely waiver-esque as I tried to coordinate my left foot with my left hand while doing something different with my right hand and remembering that the brake (the very important brake) was at my right foot. It was a bit of a pat the head rub the stomach kind of experience. I got it though and had an absolute blast!!! I felt like I was going like the clappers but given I didn't get past 3rd gear I would suggest I probably wasn't. And I only stalled it three times but was able to restart it on my own each time. Cool eh?!

So there it is. My last trip to "the farm". Of course we will still have a farm to visit - the 25 acre house block 15 minutes from the nearest town is not exactly suburbia. For all intents and purposes Mum and Dad still live on a farm. There are horses and paddocks and dams and hills and trees. So really this has been a great big dribble about nothing because nothing has changed. Bloggobable at its best. I've just spent two days talking to you about something that in the end really isn't anything! I've been all caught up in a piece of property when really the heart and soul of it all is still here. What a selfish bitch!! Man, how do you put up with me ...

1 comment :

  1. It sounds like you had a great time and I enjoyed reading about it, babble or no babble!


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