A rocky bottom
The water in the harbour
windswept; reflections
In the mind’s eye when one mentions winter thoughts of snow arrive unbidden. I think I’d love to live in a snowy wonderland such as Switzerland and Canada and parts of the US, but I know that the novelty would soon wear off. Living in overheated houses then piling on the layers to go outside and pulling them off quickly when you come back inside would not suit my personality.
The Pelorous Sounds in New Zealand is one of the most idyllic places I’ve been. It is an isolated place with the only way in by boat. Winter here is cold, bone-biting cold. The winds blow almost constantly and luckily there is an unlimited supply of wood to keep the stove burning. Braving the elements to catch some New Zealand Blue Eyed Cod and Huss is more than worth the effort but I couldn’t take a full winter here either.
There are many cold places in Australia. The Snowy Mountains would be the place to live if you wanted snow. Here in Glen Innes at the beginning of winter the air conditioning was not sufficient to heat the room to a warm enough temperature to make it an even comfortable temperature inside. Luckily there were plenty of blankets around.
Winter where I have chosen to live has perfect days – between 20 degrees and 25 degrees celsius. The nights are colder with an average around 10 degrees celsius. Perfect for a good nights sleep. Although it is too cold for me to consider swimming it does not stop my nephews from Switzerland and Germany who visit us in their long summer holidays ( our winter) and spend hours swimming and playing in the pool or ocean.
Perhaps we have the winter wonderland.
My nieces were regular visitors at our farm. They loved coming as they both loved animals and we certainly had enough of them. We certainly enjoyed the Christmas’s that they were with us as the excitement that children feel at the thought of Christmas, of Santa Clause, of re-creating the nativity scene and singing carols was certainly infectious. Christmas is after all about children, or rather one particular child.
This Christmas the girls came and brought their dog Ollie. Mungo was in seventh heaven having a doggy friend to play with. He taught Ollie how to find koalas and let the humans following know where they were so that, they too, could see them. Trog of course quickly established that she was in charge and was to be obeyed.
Mungo enjoyed showing Ollie his territory. He lorded it over her in his knowledge of the property and the animals. Ollie followed dutifully at his heels. That was, until it came to the dams. Ollie loved swimming. Mungo had retained his terror from his first day at the farm and diligently avoided the water .
Everyone threw sticks into the dam. Ollie chased them. Mungo desperately wanted to but just couldn’t overcome his fear. The girls and my brother laughed at him so much that you could see his embarrassment. Shamed, and wanting that stick he eventually, after a couple of days, took the plunge and entered the water amidst great cheers from the bank.
Although he didn’t suddenly take to swimming, he at least paddled in the water from that time on.
This was a wonderful Christmas. A Happy Merry One.
Although I am sure I will be posting over the break it may be at irregular intervals so
I would like to wish everyone
A VERY MERRY HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND A FUN-FILLED SAFE NEW YEAR.
It was lucky that the bull forced me to walk the neighbourhood because on a couple of occasions Mungo found a couple of injured animals which were in need of help.
The first was a sugar glider. These are small squirrel like Australian marsupials which have thick grey fur and a black stripe running down their bodies. They are small, measuring around 40 centimetres from the tip of their nose to the end of their tail. Although they are omnivorous, they prefer to eat nectar, the reason for their name. Between the toe closest to their body and the finger in a similar position a membranous fibre runs. When they extend their limbs this opens out into a type of wing allowing the animal to glide long distances. I believe that they can easily glide the length of a football oval.
It was whilst it was gliding that, the one we came across, had run into trouble. It had landed in a barbed wire fence and the more it struggled the more tangled it had become. With the aid of wire cutters we managed to free it but the poor little thing had puncture wounds over both its body and its gliding apparatus.
There was nothing we could do but ring the local animal rescue service and transport it seventy-five kilometers to the nearest town that had a sugar glider expert.
The next animal was just a couple of days later. A wallaby had been hit by a car and killed with a joey in her pouch. I hated the wildlife carnage on our roads and being obligated to check the pouch for babies if you came across a killed kangaroo it could become a gruelling task if a joey was found. If it was sucking on the nipple it meant that you had to cut the nipple from the dead mother with the baby attached and wait until the joey released itself. If you pulled them off the nipple they were in danger of mouth deformities which would prevent them from eating at a later date. Luckily on this occasion the joey was quite big and not attached to the nipple.
We made up a pillowcase with an old fleecy shirt and put the baby in head first and started the procedure to take him to the animal rescue people. This time they met us out on the highway so we only had a thirty kilometer drive to get to them.
My neighbourhood walks didn’t last too long. The road was boring compared to my paddocks which I missed so, I returned and braved the bull.
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Having reached this milestone I was reminded of this post from Sim/antics.
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