- © irene waters 2014
Heavy rain – falling ,
torrents rage, rivers fill – flood
dog needs walk – folly.
http://sundaystills.wordpress.com/2014/01/19/sunday-stills-the-next-challenge-the-letter-f-2/
© irene waters 2014
To read from the beginning of this petmoir series go to https://irenewaters19.com/trog-other-animals/
Barrington is a small hamlet six kilometres from Gloucester and the last petrol for seventy-five kilometres for those travelling west. It was also on the route to the only road which went right through the Barrington National Park, a world heritage listed area. (Photos below some of surrounding countryside)
The General Store was the hub of the community although at the point we purchased it, there were few customers. The French-man we bought it from was a superb chef. In fact he used to own a French delicatessen in the suburb of Sydney my parents lived and I had often had his famous meat pies. He was however burnt out and simply could no longer be bothered. His customer relations suffered as a result and so did his marriage. Not only were the customers scarce but the place was in need of a total overhaul.
The shop itself consisted of a restaurant, the shop and an attached house. We hired canoes and transported them to the river, we filled gas bottles, served fuel, ran a café style coffee shop of a day and, after we had done things up a bit, a silver service restaurant Friday and Saturday nights and other nights by request. We did take away food, were the post office, supermarket, camping store, hardware store, accountant and bookkeeper. We had the best supply of topographical maps in the area and I am proud to say the best lolly shop in the area.
Initially, we did this just the two of us and Mungo suffered. Trog of course made herself at home both in the shop, preferring to sit on top of my computer in the office, and the house whilst Mungo was kept behind a kiddies stair gate which we put between the shop and the house-kitchen. He would sit in there looking longingly at us, not understanding why, for the first time in his life, he could not be with us.
As our customer base built up so did his loneliness. He took to being an escapologist finding any weakness in the fence. Panic struck, one of us would leave the by now busy shop to scour the neighbourhood looking for him. We were always worried he would be skittled as he had no knowledge of roads with numerous large trucks and cars on them. He often made his way to Barrington Orchids where a Border Collie lived, so we believed he was looking for company.
“Your house sounds like a train at midday,
the wasps buzz, the saucepans sing,
the waterfall enumerates the deeds of the dew . . .”
― Pablo Neruda
This quote resonated with me as this is exactly how our house sounds except that the wasps are native bees (I think), and the saucepans clatter rather than sing and the waterfall behind the pool and the other many water falls we have around the house create water droplets falling. I get a real buzz from all this water.
http://esengasvoice.wordpress.com/2014/01/18/ese-s-weekly-shootquote-challenge-buzz/
We moved into rental accommodation at Old Bar whilst we waited for our purchase of the Barrington General Store to finalise. The house we leased was across the road from the beach, a great position as we could walk out the door and Mungo could run along the leash free beach. The house however was two-storied with a spiral staircase. On the top floor was the lounge room, and two bedrooms. The kitchen, dining room and bathroom were downstairs.
The spiral staircase was fairly typical one made from wrought iron with open-backed, wooden slats. This posed a real problem for Mungo who could see through each rung and the higher it went the more his legs turned to jelly. Try as he did he could not go higher than 5 stairs before he had no choice but to back down nervously. He had met his nemesis.
Trog on the other hand could go up and down at will and loved being the only creature in the upstairs world. We were as distressed as Mungo that he couldn’t be with us and tried to spend as much time as possible working downstairs on the dining room table.
When my mother came to visit we dropped in on a work colleague of hers that lived at Old Bar. Again stairs were Mungo’s downfall. Although these were a straight flight again they had the open back. We managed to entice him up the stairs which he did with a lot of leg wobbling but we couldn’t get him to go back down. After trying we ended up carrying him down which was not an easy task as he weighed 40 kgs and was very, very nervous.
Mitchell Island
Manning River
Of a day we would explore the countryside. Old Bar is located near the mouth of the Manning River which enters the sea at Manning Point on Mitchell Island. One of my kidney patients lived there and having become very close to all our clients (something I was not used to never having worked with chronic conditions before) we would go and visit, taking Mungo with us.
Apart from the nights when Mungo was downstairs alone and lonely it was a time where we felt we were on holidays. We had no idea then just how glad we would be that we had managed to totally refresh before we started our next venture.
Geese are highly protective of their family. Both parents take an active part in the parenting and even a sister from an earlier hatching will make sure that no harm comes to her new brothers and sisters. Woe betide anyone entering this backyard.
Both these mothers will stay close-by their family whilst they are vulnerable and need feeding and protecting. When separation occurs, as it inevitably does, for a short time they cry for their babies, look for them and then accept that they are gone. Although it is not possible to know what is going on inside their heads it would seem, outwardly at least that they do not hold their family in their head, they do not wonder what has become of them, daily grieve their passing. The family is simply forgotten.
This family sticks together and no doubt dies together. They do what they have been born to do – eat, then metamorphose then, after laying another family of eggs, die. Some are surely lost along the way but do the others even care. I doubt they even know.
Humans certainly care about families evidenced by the interest in genealogy. I am lucky my brother has a keen interest in this field. He has been able to take his roots back to having a DNA maternal haploid group U5a1a, the oldest grouping in Europe. Starting with the family bible he has managed to trace my father’s side of the family back to 1722.
Although I have found the book he wrote of this history fascinating, and a very good read, it was the later history that gets me in, where anecdotes of people’s lives could be remembered and recounted such as my aunts association with the theosophical society.
For we humans, family is important not only for the present, but also the past and the future.
This is the family home built by my Great Grandfather when he emigrated to Australia from Scotland to be a missionary in the Rocks in Sydney 1897. The house was completed in 1905
One of the most important rooms in the house was the library. Each available wall had a family portrait hanging. The picture on the right is my Great Grandfather, Great-Aunty Mary in the middle and Great-Uncle John on the left. On the mantlepiece is my father and on the small bookcase a studio portrait of my brother and I. Many generations of the family hanging together.
The library itself held much family history. As well as a huge collection of books, including many first editions, on the table behind the small chair (which was my great-grandmother’s seat) is the family bible and a huge Webster dictionary. The yellow velvet smoking chair complete with pipe holders was my Great-Grandfather’s.
My brother is currently working on my mother’s side of the family. My Grandmother (above) would have been horrified to find her father, who was mainly an absentee Dad, turned out to be a bigamist.
My Mother and her cousin are a great source to get family stories which, when my brother’s children are old enough to take an interest in family history, they will be able to relate to their children and the memory of the family will live on.
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/01/17/photo-challenge-family-2/
Directions for you to accept the Sunshine Award
To accept this award, the awardee must do the following:
Ten Interesting Things About Me
1. Most of my writing is about my life but when it comes to saying ten interesting things about Me I am totally stuck for words. I’m not that interesting – so what on earth do I write about?
2 Since joining the blogging community I have discovered that I really enjoy reading poetry, something I have not done since high school and I won’t say how long ago that was. (I can still remember Kenneth Slessor’s Five Bells from those days though.) Poetry would have been a passion then if we had studied poems such as those seen on
http://johncoyote.wordpress.com
http://shardsofsilence.wordpress.com/2014/01/15/forbidden-fruit/
3. I have an irrational fear of the combination of speed, heights and cliffs.
4. I can be fanatical. In fact anything I do tends to be fanatical. When it stops being fanatical I usually stop doing it.
5. Things I used to be fanatical about – vegan, vegetarian, organic, gardening, fish (aquariums), bonsai.
6. Things I have been fanatical about for a long long time – writing, reading, learning, dancing, photography
7. Things I have newly become fanatical about – blogging
8. My great grandfather was a bigamist (only found this out at Christmas)
9. I enjoy parlour games
10. I don’t wear jewellery or makeup.
My Nominees in no particular order
http://suzjones.wordpress.com/about/
http://johncoyote.wordpress.com
http://seezooeyrun.wordpress.com
http://catherinelyonaddictedtodimes.wordpress.com
http://decocraftsdigicrafts.wordpress.com
http://ninakaytel.wordpress.com
http://dragoneystory.wordpress.com
Images that can be used
Trog and Other Animals is a petmoir serial. If you wish to start at the beginning go to the page Trog and Other Animal for the links.
It was three weeks before we had anybody else look at the farm. The inspection was in the morning and by afternoon we’d had an offer. “Take it – it’s the only offer you’ve had” the real estate agent said.
“But he’s only the second person to look at it ” Rod replied. We held out and eventually we obtained the price we were asking with a few items such as the ride on mower and some furniture thrown in. From that point we had about eight weeks to organise homes for all the animals, apart from Trog and Mungo. They of course would go with us.
Rod had been negotiating with a Frenchman to buy the General Store at Barrington but at this point negotiations were failing. As we always enjoy working under pressure Rod decided that we must revisit Vanuatu. He felt he had unfinished business there and thought perhaps he would find a business in Port Vila more to his liking.
Returning to Vanuatu was the best thing we could do as it gave both of us a great deal of closure – but that’s for another story. On our return to our surprise we found that our offer for the store had finally been accepted but with a small delay in settlement. We had to find accommodation for 3month before we could move to our new abode at Barrington. This we found at a seaside town called Old Bar.
The cows, and calves went to market. The race that we had spent so much time building could not be used as the pregnant cows were to fat to fit through it. Once again we herded the beasts to the small hill on the roadside and loaded them into the truck. I was happy that none of these animals would go to the abattoir being too valuable as breeders. We fetched a good price for them. The bull, Darrell had organised another novice farmer to take on. This we were very happy about as the bull most likely wouldn’t have had the same fate as the cows had he gone to sale.
Long, lean good for bacon Mrs Wiggins returned to Darrell’s piggery. I loved that pig and I never asked what he did with her. Knowing how I felt he left me with the impression that he would allow her to live to a ripe old age.
Sadie and Shakey, the donkeys, along with Snowflake, the miniature horse, were transported down the road to another bed and breakfast. Having seen what a drawcard the donkeys were for our guests, our opposition were only too pleased to take them off our hands. As donkeys can live to over 100 years this was a bit of a relief at the time.
Getting them into a truck was a major feat. They could fit through the race but all the pushing and shoving was not going to budge them. Again we walked them up to the hill on the road and again tried to get them to walk on. This day was a great example of why the saying stubborn as a donkey is in existence. They were not moving.
“Youse got no choice. Youse goin’ to have to lift em on.” Darrell said. He, Roger and the truck drive took a bit of the donkey after having told me to get in the truck to grab it from there. I have never been so terrified as that day, stuck against the wall of the truck with a flailing, frightened donkey trying to exit.
“Never ” I said on finally escaping the truck “Never am I going to have an animal bigger than myself. Never Ever.”
It was Rod’s one big regret though that we had not taken them with us as every place we lived after Old Bar had ample room for them.
The chickens went to Darrell’s son. With all the farm animals gone the place felt empty, yet we were strangely relieved that our time on the farm was over:- no more maintenance, no more isolation……
Soon Trog was in her cage and Mungo in the back seat of the car as we made our way to Old Bar.
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