Ephemera Paradiso

Roses, Hobies & Dams

BY AYESHA JOY CLIFFORD © 

HOT and sunny - time for adventures of the aquatic kind.

After four years of limited use due to FIFO and farming schedules and the three wettest consecutive years on record, our Hobie Adventure Islands have been reintroduced to water.

We set off early for the short drive to a nearby freshwater creek in the Northern Rivers of New South Wales, Australia. 

First glimpse of the water in the early morning light was through wispy mist floating over glass-flat water. Ah - the joys of the early riser. 

After evicting the hornets' nests from the akker pin holes, we slipped two very dusty Hobies down the ramp and were away.

I've always wondered why so many people miss the best part of the day. This was our early reward.

Heading for the hills with the Mirage Drive pedals silently cutting through the flat water on the way towards the nearest creek inlet.

There was bird life in abundance out and about at this early time of the morning.

The stream narrows a little but there was still a nice channel and easy paddling and we decided to pull in for a stretch and to take in the views of this beautiful country.

I was amazed to happen on this little grassy area mowed by resident cattle. This looks like 
something you would see in Monet's Garden at Giverny not on the edge of rugged bushland.

This marvelous pink rose has bloomed where it was planted into a wall of precious pink petals and a mass of delicate colour. 

The Amazing Husband armed himself with his trusty Gerber and braved the thorns to earn a bunch of roses to decorate my Hobie. I understand now why Briar roses were used as security hedging.

After a bit of a rest and celebration fruitcake, we happily pedalled off for the return journey with a bunch of roses for my Hobie.

Happy pedalling!

Bore Success!

BY AYESHA JOY CLIFFORD©

WE hit the water jackpot in a couple of ways this week.

While the Amazing Husband has been Walking For Water (see previous post) we also hit our own water jackpot on The Pretty Farm.

This summer has been dry for the Northern Rivers of New South Wales..

Up to March 17, we had only just passed 100mls of rain for the year to date.

Just for comparison, here are the previous few year's totals for the same time:

• 2013 - 578mls
• 2012 - 428
• 2011 - 507
• 2010 - 368

 Records we have going back to 1905 testify to varying rainfall over the years. This year’s summer rainfall was low by any comparison for this part of the Northern Rivers on data available.  

Thanks to much fencing, a planned grazing regime and the past few wet years, we have good pasture residuals going into winter.

We have been wanting to sink a bore at our place for the past few years and had a site located by a local legend "Snow" last year.

Snow walked all over our place looking for water and I joked to the Amazing Husband that the site would be right in front of our house and guess what?

 BORE SUCCESS: The drillers thought we hit the jackpot with our new bore.

This was the outlook from the office this week: A rain shower coming in from the south-west and water flowing from the drilling rig - not far down!

Now I'm no expert on bores but that's pretty unusual according to the experts. 

"You should buy a Lotto ticket," they joked. We are already winners.

We struck a great flow, looks like lovely water (yet to be officially tested) at less than half the depth we were expecting (and about half the price!). Happy customers but I did feel a tad for the contractors. Ouch! Not to worry – they are busy at the moment.

So on that watery note, we're feeling pretty blessed here on The Pretty Farm.

We had 22.5mls of lovely, gentle soaking rain this week and a "really good" water bore drilled.

Now the “really” fun part: working out who gets to sit on the tractor and who gets to walk behind juggling that giant roll of pipe into the pipe layer to get lovely bore water around to all our paddocks.

The girls are going to be so happy!

Walk for Water

 

IMAGE from http://www.walk4water.com.au/.

BY AYESHA JOY CLIFFORD©

ALL excitement at our little farm here in the Northern Rivers this week - and it's all about water.

The amazing husband has been a man on a mission - WaterAid's Walk for Water fundraising challenge. 

He has been walking 10,000 steps a day to fulfill funding pledges to raise money to provide access to safe drinking water for people in 27 of the world's poorest countries.

With all the talk in Australia about dry times, it really put things in perspective to read about people - often very young girls and women - who really have no choice but to walk a long way -  up to 20km every day - carting heavy containers of drinking water.

Worldwide it is estimated 750 million people still do not have access to safe water.

I'm delighted that the Amazing Husband joined  Walk For Water and we're both delighted with the local generosity.

So far from the tiny community of Kyogle,  he has raised enough money to fund the building of at least one and probably two wells for drinking water. 

Kyogle is a small town (population 4000) known for its big heart.

The generosity of the community and businesses comes at a time when many are also donating to charities for Australian farmers as well as experiencing their own dry summer here in the Northern Rivers.

Congratulations to the team and thanks to generous Kyogle for helping others less fortunate.

Congratulations also to the Amazing Husband who has diligently spend this week clocking up the 10,000 steps every day and even doing a practice run on his birthday last week. 

More information is at www.walk4water.com.au.

Rivalry in the Afternoon

Joy Boosters in Boots

JOY boosters - Bartie is a fan of the bright new additions.

BY AYESHA JOY CLIFFORD ©

I'VE got big feet! 

Actually, for a lady, they're huge - nudging size 11.5. I've often thought of the Cinderella wannabees trying to squash their feet into dainty slippers.

Perhaps that's why boots have became a staple of my wardrobe.

Long before they were trendy and as a busy journo working in the Beef Capital, I would seek out boots in all shapes, sizes and colours that could comfortably accommodate my good grip on the earth, all day long.

I've had steel caps, gum boots, meatworks ankle whites, platforms, dance boots - an eclectic variety that has taken me from press conferences to dusty military fly-ins, to power stations, kill floors, floods and fancy nights out.

When I worked in Tokyo, my boots announced my origins as much as the Claybourn and blonde hair. They also opened many a conversation that ensured a solo traveller was rarely alone in a foreign country captivated by our wild spaces and wild places, and maybe not a little by our wild people. 

Boots add that something extra that is hard to define. The artistry and expression, the combination of creativity and practicality appeals to me.

When the Amazing Husband and I first began working together on his 24,000 acre property at Marlborough, he proudly presented me with a pair of steel caps.

A couple of months old now and these gumboots are yet to meet mud in the Northern Rivers.

Fast forward to our farm in the Northern Rivers and ankle-gracing boots lose all appeal walking through thick grass with docile red-bellied snakes often a little tardy in getting out of the way. 

Knee-high gum boots have become my farm fashion statement of choice through several years of consecutive flood and wet.

It's dry here now so perhaps it was time for a boot update too - a little joy boost in my day.

The Amazing Husband presented me not with roses on Valentine's Day but with something far more precious - candy-pink boots!

It is dry. We're culling cows. We're calculating herbage mass and DSE in our sleep. These shiny pink beauties are a shot of pure, frivolous joy in my day.

A reminder to daily look for the bright shots of  joy in the dust of life.

Our Magic Puddings

BY AYESHA JOY CLIFFORD ©

IN THE great Australian tradition of my favourite childhood story, "The Magic Pudding", we are having our own Magic Pudding(s!) moment here at "Glen Alvin".

In Norman Lindsay's famous children's story from 1917, the grouchy Pudding in his upturned pudding bowl hat had mystical rejuvenative qualities as he strolled about the Australian bush.

Norman Lindsay's "The Magic Pudding" from normanlindsay.com.au

Cake and pudding cooking have become a shared Christmas feature since we married and in their own way, our unorthodox cake and pudding production has its own magical quality.

I like to make enough to have throughout the year, pulling out Christmas baking for birthdays, Easter and perhaps the odd night in with a port and some aged dark, rich pudding in front of the fire in winter.

It's become our way of taking a little symbol of the magic of Christmas - and reminding ourselves to keep the spirit of Christmas in our hearts all year.

Bartie gets into the Christmas Spirit.

I was delighted when, for our first Christmas at our new farm as newlyweds, my husband purchased antique baking tins and pudding bowls from Ebay.

Holding them in my hands when they arrived, I sensed they had hosted many a successful baking and boiling but besides that - they looked just like the upturned pudding tin of "The Magic Pudding".

I lacked experience in big cakes and puddings, but in that moment, I knew these tins would not fail.

So a couple of weeks ago there was a combined effort to chop and select fruit. One secret ingredient is our fabulous Australian dried fruit. Ingredients vary from year to year. I like each cake to be distinct,  just like each year has its own distinct flavour.

This year's pudding and cake fruits drank up rather generous amounts of port, brandy and sherry lavished on them by the husband cook who tended the fruit for several days.

Chop...stir...soak...

The mixtures sat soaking on the stove far longer than usual. This is a farm and of course the animals come first. There was a round of cattle work to be done … immediately. Such are the joys of country cooking.

More sherry, more port,  more brandy ... stir ... soak.

The tins and bowls came out of the shed for their annual day of glory. It looked promising for a moment. The lining of the tins is an exercise in precision folding and stapling and drew close inspection from one little helper.

Posh inspects the vintage tins for inherited cooking wisdom.

But then …

An unusual egg shortage. After overflowing with eggs all year,  the cupboard was bare. Production slowed - perhaps the Festive Season? The crows ate a basket I left on the back veranda. I had to wait for production to meet demand.

More sherry, more port, more brandy ... stir ... soak.

We finally came to mixing and that’s where we truly had our own Magic Pudding moment. I slipped in copious amounts of secret spices and a full jar of glossy, black Beerenberg molasses for good measure. My gorgeous husband lovingly tended his fruit,  making last-minute additions.

Cats walked over the table, the sheep knocked at the screen door. World Christmas carols boomed and a couple of little ears listened over the fence.

  Enjoying carols at their first Christmas.

We probably broke many cooking rules and like most years, I have not much idea what finally went into the mixtures.

Perhaps it's because we are more used to mixing up feed for animals that weigh hundreds of kilos but this year's Christmas cake and pudding mixes just kept expanding into two enormous mixes that became two cakes and three dark puddings in the fabulous antique tins.

Antique tins work their magic.

Perhaps it's the flavour of all those little moments added together, blended with the real secret ingredient - love and attention, sharing and fun.

There could have been a couple of other secret farm ingredients that sneak in there too. It is a farm after all.

There was much laughter and love and sharing and finally after four hours of baking and boiling - an immense 10 kilograms of boiled and baked, rich dark beauties.

Somewhere in the mixing, the antique tins worked their magic and we had our own Magic Pudding moment. I don't know how it works but every year it does.

Magic puddings.

After all, that’s the magic of Christmas.

This year I'm keeping a few kilos of cake and pudding in the cupboard to remind me to keep the spirit of Christmas in my heart all year.

Merry Christmas to your and yours. Wherever you are this Christmas may you be blessed with the spirit of Christmas in your heart all year.

Feisty little furry friends

Free and moving well up a post for gliding away.

BY AYESHA JOY CLIFFORD ©

WHO ever said life on the farm was dull?

Not me that's for sure.

I was collecting the eggs today when a life and death drama played out right in front of me.

I heard odd noises coming from our old fig tree and looked up to see a large tree snake that has been hanging about the house for a few days, sticking its head into a hole.

Suddenly a ball of fluff came flying out of the hole and landed on the barb-wire fence in front of me. I had the phone out to take photos of the snake but ...

This little fellow escaped one predator only to get caught on barbed-wire. Help was not far away though....

The little glider promptly twirled about in a bit of a daze in the bright light and got some of its floppy side-fur caught around a barb.

I jumped on the four-wheeler and raced to the shed for pliers. When I returned, the glider seemed quite calm, so I proceeded to strip off my shirt to cover its head to stop it biting me while I cut the wire on either side.

This was wildly unsuccessful. We have had these little gliders come in under the eaves often when it's rainy, and they are usually quiet when nestled at the top of the plumbing pipes.

Not today. Understandably feisty after escaping a snake and being caught on wire, the ball of slippery fluff promptly bit me painfully hard while making a huge racket as I was trying to cut the wire.

I admit a few naughty words escaped me before my furry little friend also escaped me, the wire and made a bolt for the nearest post.

I was none too keen by now on trying to catch it, what with bloodied indents from its sharp teeth stinging my finger and evident even through rubbery gloves and those vague thoughts about when my last tetanus jab was.

All this action escaped the attention of the phone camera but it must have been some sight to anyone driving by at the time - a shirtless woman in gumboots, expletives perhaps flying a bit too freely, kneeling in the grass wrestling a “shirt”.

Once free, my furry little escapee scampered up this post, staring at me long enough for this blurry photo, before gliding a few metres away again, and running up a different branch of the fig tree.

I'm not sure what its chances of survival are with any injury. I hardly ever see anything caught on the barbed wire around here apart from me when I'm trying to get through fences.

I lost track of what happened to the snake and just realised the eggs are still lying out in the rain.

Enough excitement now - I have one very sore finger and I'm staying in for the rest of the day for a keyboard workout - but I am thinking of you my little furry friend with every painful tap of the finger...

Good luck little one. I so hope you make it!

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year

BART wishes all a Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!

BY AYESHA JOY CLIFFORD ©

I'M looking forward to a colourful and creative 2014.

2013 marked the sixth year in NSW for two dust-loving Queenslanders who moved to the green and wet of the rainforest from our dusty home in Central Queensland.

This year has heralded the end of FIFO farming for the Cliffords and been our year of the sheep. Welcome Bart!

After almost four years of my gorgeous husband calling in from mine sites in places as diverse as Woomera in South Australia and Telfer in the remote north-west of WA, I have had a husband home on farm. Praise the end of the super-commute from the Northern Rivers to the Pilbara...every 10 days.

Super commuter ... the super FIFO husband hangs up his miner's hat but not before a Telfer New Year partying with the dingoes in WA's spectacular Pilbara.

I won't even begin to explain the innovative things I have done with fencing, cows and pipe repairs in the absence of one amazing multi-skilled FIFO farmer.

Necessity is the mother of invention and my innovations have raised a few eyebrows as they have been uncovered and upgraded in the past six months.

Perhaps it has been the past few years of FIFO farmer's wife anonymously tinkering away on our farm or the power of a woman in her forties - whatever, after a bit of time off-the-record, 2013 has been the year to get back to my creative heart.

WISHING all a 2014 as colourful and creative as Toowoomba's Carnival of Flowers.

2014 will mark 25 years since I was first launched on an unsuspecting public as a cadet journalist in Rockhampton.

I never suspected I would still be writing and creating and enjoying it 25 years later. I never suspected I would be a FIFO farmer's wife chatting to cows and a sheep daily either...

Our green haven is a world away from the deadlines and pressures of mainstream media and I doubt many of my former colleagues would understand my passion for our farm, animals and the quiet life - which is actually anything but quiet and produces urgent life-and-death deadlines of its own at times. 

Thankfully the Internet has given me an opportunity to keep writing and enjoying the best of both worlds. Something I am very much looking forward to sharing and expanding in 2014. 

So here's to the wonderful achievements on our little farm in a big country in 2013 and looking forward to a colourful, creative and productive year in 2014.

Wishing you all a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

A Magician of Metal

"Creativity is a Spiritual essence that can operate in any and all areas of life." 

- Julia Cameron

By AYESHA JOY CLIFFORD ©

SOLD!

Yes, my gorgeous husband is sold on clearing sales and this is the smile of a happy hunter gatherer.

I never quite know what to expect on the back of the ute but judging from the elated smile this weekend I could tell something special was lurking in amongst that pile of stuff.

Where I yawn and look for somewhere to quietly nap and people watch, he yarns to fellow fossickers and uncovers fabulous bargains for our farm that I don't see amongst what look like piles of rubbish.

One man's trash and all that. But at the weekend seriously he did nab some pretty great things.

Even if you need a little - or a lot - of imagination to picture what all these little scrolls and flowers and bits and bobs can be. 

A clearning sale featured wrought iron and other assorted flotsam and jetsam of metal magic just waiting to be transformed.

Where I quietly dabble in paint, my gorgeous husband likes to grind, weld and hammer away to create beauty. We are all creative and I love seeing creativity expressed through different areas of life.

I have been banished from the Big Shed from now until Christmas on the proviso that I will be pleasantly surprised.

There have been murmurings of paddock sculpture and whimsical metal creations appearing around the place.

Looking forward to a highly creative 2014 on the farm.

Beach, Bubbles & Lizards of Lennox

BY AYESHA JOY CLIFFORD © 

TAKE A SEAT.

I love the beach and this seat is one of my favourite spots to sit and watch the ocean.

After the past few years as a FIFO-Farmer's wife, I'm enjoying having a husband home and a more regular routine.

Which for me means we get to the beach more often. 

We're rich in choices for gorgeous beaches around here. 

This week's pick was Lennox Head - just down the road from beautiful Byron Bay and home of a world-famous surfing break.

It's also home to the uber-cool Lizards of Lennox who inhabit the black rocks on the beachfront. They hang out with their friends the gulls.

This one was literally hanging out on a rail, basking in the sunshine, licking the sea air and looking out to sea.

Then there are Lennox's high-fliers who do their grooming in public.

It was a good effort grooming with the wind ruffling your feathers at your high rise home.

There's a lovely selection of shops to keep me happy and rumour has it a champagne bar opening soon.

Beach & Bubbles. Perfect balance for Cows and Country Creative.

Happy Weekend to you all.

Hail - Impromptu Winter Wonderland

BY AYESHA JOY CLIFFORD ©

AUSTRALIA

HAIL HAIL HAIL - and it's getting bigger.

Our third day of hail this week.

Calves cowered, cats howled and cows charged through the odd fence seeking refuge.

One pampered sheep safely contained in the outside shower and one new roof put to serious  test.

Inside the noise grew louder as the hail grew larger, gathering in piles on the lawn.

We seemed to be spared the worst but looking at our neighbor's place looked a white wonder from a distance.

This is not winter in the US, it's spring in the Northern Rivers.On closer inspection, the mist from the ice gave it a wintery atmosphere.

It's only about two kilometres in distance, but the difference was obvious from the piles of hail washed into a nearby crossing.

The hail was in a narrow band. Cows and calves were standing a little stunned in their new white wonderland.

Just over the rise you can see the heavy hail ends.

It is obvious from the highly accurate toe-nail test that the hail is getting bigger.

Looking forward to the amazing pasture boost this will provide now.

Morning Glory

BY AYESHA JOY CLIFFORD ©

SPRING rain has arrived in our beautiful part of the world this week.

Almost nightly we have had storms skirt around us to the south and largely missed the wind and hail, receiving just beautiful, soaking rain every night.

The cracks in our soil have soaked up this week's almost 100mls of rain and are gently closing as the soil fills with moisture again.

The rampant march of green around the house has taken on an almost flourescent hue.

This morning's sunrise was pure golden glory.

Sheep Chasie & Creature Comforts

BY AYESHA JOY CLIFFORD ©

THROUGH the years I've had an assortment of companion creatures.

Birds, lizards, echidnas, native rats, goats, bandicoots, horses, cats, wallabies - a lively squirrel glider that seemed near death at bedtime and woke me during with night with ear-piercing screams whilst rattling the window screens.

Such memorable moments.

I've always wanted a sheep though. Perhaps the Aries in me thought we'd communicate on a different level.

Some lovely neighbors up the road a bit have a wonderful little mob of sheep and we were fortunate to adopt an orphan lamb several months ago.

Bartholomew was so little, it was winter and he was so cute in his hand-knitted warmie devouring the geraniums.

He's now a fine wether and one of the gentlest animals I've known. 

Bartie has become our guard sheep and alerts me to happenings about the farm and does the occasional spot of mowing and fertilising of the lawn. Mostly he likes to hang out with the big-boy farm cats and have water play with the hose in the backyard in the afternoons. 

Recently, he graduated to the outside world with a grand new enclosure just for him. He's still pretty keen on the back veranda though and will take any opportunity to sneak 

back to the outside laundry and his original home - the outside shower - plonking down with a huge sigh of relief on the tiled concrete. 

Now he's getting to be full size it's hard to argue and move him.

He's a bit like me though - very susceptible to food treats, so bribery works. And he loves a game of sheep chasie in the shade of the fig tree in the cool of the afternoon. He even sulks a little when he doesn't win. 

And he's a creature of comfort. He loves to curl up for a daytime nap with his favorite sausage pillow tucked neatly under his head and one leg out. Ah the similarities...

Happy six months little Bartie! 

Stormy night rescue

BY AYESHA JOY CLIFFORD © 

RAIN glorious rain has arrived in our little piece of paradise this week.

We've been blessed with a couple of storms that have delivered about 57mls so far.

Last night's storm was quite windy and this morning I found a couple of small, fluffy victims huddled in the grass.

We have an active population of owls living in the swamp bloodwood forest close to our house.

I rarely see them though often hear them hooting at night. Today though these two gorgeous littlies were huddled in the grass perhaps blown from the tree during last night's wind. 

They were being minded by a parent own which I disturbed when I rode past and which watched proceedings keenly from closeby.

The owlets were quite easy to catch and I placed them back into a tree on branches as high as I could manage balancing on gumboot tippy-toe on the seat of the four-wheeler.

One can almost fly and fluttered off but didn't make it to another tree, instead coming to rest against the base. 

A second quick rescue later, and after unceremoniously thanking me in its own little warm and watery owlie way, the two were perched back in the tree with the parent owl keeping close watch.

Good Luck little ones - look forward to hearing you having a hoot on midnight rodent patrol soon.