Farewell

You’ll be missed, Sandra.  Having been the person you were, wherever you’re headed you’ll be treated very well indeed.

The best view in the house

I’ve decided I want to start spending more time on my roof.

Our roof is quite large and spread out, and without significant pitch – when my father was building the extension on the back of the house I happily spent hours up there playing and doing my homework, aged about 7.

Since the spring weather is so nice, I’ve decided that next week (my first free time) I’m going to lug up the cushions from the papasan chairs (or maybe the beanbag?) and a book or some knitting and hang out for a while.

I just have to convince Mark to do regular coffee and cordial runs…..

I’ll post some photos of the roof and its view next week.  Unfortunately I have to actually work all week this week (the shock! the horror!) and then it’s off to the big smoke on the weekend so no hanging out till early next week.

One lonely baked bean

My muscles are complaining…

Fire brigade training went well yesterday – we got in at least 6 or seven overs of cricket before we were hungry enough for lunch.  Mark and B. went into town to get fish and chips – and, of course, while they were gone, we got a call out.  To a house fire just around the corner.  House fires are rare for us – trees and cars are our main areas.  Apparently it’s the first house fire in the village, too, as far as some of the long standing residents can remember.

No-one was in the house; it was a holdiay house.  There were people staying in it but they were out for the day.  By the time we got there it was totally, totally ablaze – all the windows had shattered and it was just a matter of putting it out so the investigators could investigate.  I got the fun job – being on the business end of the hose.  This a) is fun and b)means that you look like you know what you’re doing, while everyone else runs around in a mad panic.  It’s strange to be saying that a fire is fun – particuarly when it’s someone’s house burning – but fire is such a fascinating thing.  So very powerful.

We had trouble with water access to start with but once we got a line into the house’s water tank it was all good – and when Mark and B. returned they were able to take the tanker back to the station to refill it.

Of course, being the local brigade, we got everybody’s favourite job – blacking out.  This means that after the other two brigades had done their heroic parts and the fire was mostly out, they left.  We got to stay behind for another two hours putting out every single last spark and smoulder till the house was awash, and then sweeping and hosing out the corner of the house where the hotspot was so that the investigators could get a clear look at the burn patterns.  So I have glass cuts on my hands because some idiot didn’t take her gloves.  Four and a half hours later we were finally able to stick our fish and chips in the oven – not the nicest lot of fish and chips but we were all so tired by then that we didn’t care.

Sitting on top of the combustion stove inside the house was one lonely little baked bean which had somehow survived the absolute heat.  That’s the most amazing thing about a structure fire – a building can be absolutely engulfed in flames, and when you go in to mop up all the appliances and furniture are charred and destroyed, but little things will have survived – a stack of gossip magazines, a child’s sequinned purse, some DVDs, and a baked bean.

Postery overload

Because nothing says Hi! I’m Back! like 100 posts in one day.

Just posting to gloat about a small collection of treasures given to me by a friend: a box full of balls of raw wool and a big tin of knitting needles.

Check out the huge ones with the gumnut ends:

So, I’ve been knitting with sticky sticky wool for a few weeks; three beanies (here’s one and now I’m starting a scarf. 

B. also has boxes and boxes of unspun wool languishing in his shed, as well as carding machines and a spinning wheel.  He once used several hundred dollars’ worth of the wool (not realising its worth) to stuff his armour. Don’t ask.

Spring in winter

Last month my parents and my niece accompanied me on a Sunday wildflower walk along the backtracks.  The wildflowers here are amazing and varied, and, as usual, the beach was its stunning self.

See photos here.  My garden is currently boasting the flowers of Geraldton wax, boronias, Coral flame pea, various grevilleas, hardenbergia, silver wattle and a few others are threatening.  Next month will be daffodil time, followed closely by the hybrid lilies.  Hopefully after the good trim the mulberry tree had in winter, we’ll get some decent fruit this year.  Next year it needs crowning – this year we went easy on it because it hasn’t been cut back in a long time.

I’m absolutely jealous of the neighbour-down-the-road who has not one but four enormous gymea lily spears up and flowering.  They’re two-three metres high and I’m trying hard to be satisfied with just having the view.  It’s $50 for a ‘toddler-sized’ plant which won’t even flower for another two years; $150 for a large plant with a spear on it.  If anyone wants to donate to my garden, the number one and two plants are gymea lilies and xanthorrhoea.  I bought Mark a xanthorrhoea for his birthday – a beautiful triple header – but unfortunately they grow so slowly that by the time Mark is 60, the plant trunk will be a whopping 3cm tall.

Thanks, Phil Koperberg

…for the rain on our camping weekend, that is.  Last year you were trotted out in August to bring the bushfire season forward by a couple of months, and as a consequence it rained all summer.  Last week you were trotted out to warn people that with the very, very dry winter we’ve had, it’s going to be a helluva fire season.

So of course it rained from about 5pm Saturday, and is still sprinkling in fits and starts now, at 7pm Sunday.

We went camping for the weekend for Mark and my sister’s birthdays (concurrent days – and Virgos to boot) at a campsite my family often camped at when we were little tackers.  It’s a lake separated from the ocean by a narrow spit of sand; the lake is only about knee deep so it’s wonderful for the littlies.

Saturday was a bright and clear day, if a little brisk.  Mark and I went for a paddle early in the morning, and when we returned the kettles were boiling on the camp stoves and the bacon and eggs were sizzling nicely.  We hung out in the sun for a few hours and then went to a nearby boatshed for coffee and lunch.  At this point the sky stopped being sunny and the weather turned downright gloomy and, well, really bloody cold.  We tried to take my niece kiting after lunch but the wind was non-existent, so we spent an hour on the beach digging for pips instead, which I fried in butter to accompany dinner.  Mmmmmmm – fresh pipis in butter.  Sooooooo good, and a vital ingredient of any coastal camping weekend.

And then it rained.  This interrupted a very young game of boules (the set travels in the car everywhere we go because it’s the world’s most versatile all-terrain game) in order for Mark and I to pack up the tent – we decided the sleep in the car instead, as this meant the tent would be relatively dry and wouldn’t need much cleaning when we got home.

So we set up the futon in the back of the car.  Very comfortable, until I woke up to discover the sheet Mark had tucked into the window had acted like a wick for the rain and the sheet and the section of futon closest to my head were soaked.  We swapped sides, of course.  Apparently I had a bad night’s sleep; I kept waking with the sort of alarmed sounds I make when I have nightmares.  But all my dreams were innocuous so I think it must have been the lack of ventilation in the car.

Given that we had basically packed the car the night before, all that was required in the morning was to eat more bacon and eggs, help the others pack and then drive home through the misty mountains.  I’m perfectly happy and content; we had a fabulous weekend, topped off by a quick game of Pictionary this evening at a friend’s house.  I’m rather enjoying Pictionary of late – that’s the fourth game we’ve had in the last few weeks.

Oh, and I knitted a beanie for my friend Lisa.  I’m going to hit the needles again this evening and do a mistake rib scarf out of a lovely raw wool.  Can’t decide whether to do white or brown – I think I might do both.