Egglet

The sixth chook has started laying (the brown mini-egg). They're the sweetest little things. In a few weeks they'll be up to size. It takes a bit of getting used to - laying an egg each morning. If the girls are out wandering first thing, she sometimes leaves it 'til the last minute and has to make an urgent dash across the garden back to the chook house. I imagine all the cackling is chook-speak for "Quick, an egg is coming!" Nice one chooky.

Winter Window

A few pics of a frosty winter morning. Gloves, beanie and scarf essential for morning walks - Molly still takes herself for swims in this sort of weather. Mad. Mmmm snuggly weather.

The Good Farmer

Leaf mould in the making...

Wheat-bix

Sowing is finished for the year. The wheat is in the ground and now its just a matter of watching it grow - and watching weather forecasts on the net. The Farmer will check the weather at least three times a day. If there is a strong forecast for rain, he checks it hourly to see where its falling and follows it in until we hear it on the tin roof. If there is talk of good rain in the district all those at Pine Hill seem to spend the day looking up at the sky. This year the sky seems to be remembering how to rain, and it could be suggested that there is a link between the forecasts and what actually falls from the clouds... but I'm not going to discuss rainfall too much in fear of jinxing what looks like a promising year. The Farmer hasn't been able to sow the crop this early for years - it has always been too dry, forcing them to wait for rain providing the seed with enough moisture to germinate. This year, soil moisture levels and warm autumn soil temperatures punched the little plants out of the ground and a green tinge across the paddocks came in a matter of days.

Colour Comforts

Autumn has come and just about gone. The reds, oranges and yellows of deciduous trees in the garden has been so lovely to live with - colours would bounce off the walls in the sunroom in the afternoon. There are still some leaves on the old pear tree, and a few roses are still in flower - bonica (which despite being in constant flower I fear is a bit too nanna-pink for my taste); iceberg; heritage; jude the obscure; and felicia (who has proved my doubts wrong) is having a great time in the cool weather. The burnt orange rose Summer Song, now finished for the season, had one last flower that looked so lovely beside the autumn colour of the old pear tree. I have taken some cuttings and stuck them in the ground around the one bush I have, to see if I can create more of this picture next year. I'm still removing over-excited ground covers from around the base of roses. There is talk of The Farmer filling a truck with manure from the cattle yards - too exciting for words.

The fire is burning all day and night, slow cooked beef is often on the menu, and the chooks have taken to wandering underneath the house and sitting under the fireplace -its funny listening to them chatter while I sit in the living room. Pause. Not too much chook-talk - I promised.

Am I The Mad Chook Lady?

I have possibly been carrying on far too much about these chickens, but the poor things are quite shaken up. The white one - Whitey - who earlier escaped the jaws of the fox, has taken to sleeping up a tree. I have tried for both weekends at home, to get her into the yard on dusk, but she wont go and instead chooses the highest branch of the LIQUIDAMBAR (Liquidambar styraciflua).

By Sunday night, she had coerced the remaining black chook - Blacky - to sleep up top with her. We couldn't have it. Soon there would be all six up the tree unable to get back into the yard to lay in the morning (because we now close the gate at night) and I'd be back to the days of finding eggs plopped around the garden (if Molly didn't find them first). When the chooks were fully free ranging, I used to spend entire mornings searching for where the girls were laying, listening on high alert for where their laying-cackle was coming from. Not again.

On Sunday night (before my epic drive to work in the morning) I made the call on dusk to get them down from the tree and into the yard to clip their wings before it got dark ... I must make the point, that The Farmer is so incredibly patient ... I got the chooks down from the tree, he got the kitchen scissors and we got to work trying to catch them one by one. It wasn't as easy as I had thought - I did have a chook run between my legs only to find myself arse over on the ground - without chook in hand. But we got there - all we're clipped so they couldn't fly like a bird anymore (and I do hate doing this - I feel most cruel, like I've ruined their aux natural state of being). The trouble is, they still think they can fly. The Farmer tells me over the phone (as I'm back in the big smoke finishing deadline), that they were back up the tree the next night, only to tumble from the top branches and hit the ground with an almighty thud. Blacky is a rather big foul. There was some carrying on, but I think they learned their lesson. They're so harassed. I wont be surprised if our supply of yellow eggs ceases. I'm actually still waiting for the rebel two to start laying - if we ever get there. Sorry chooks.

Safe As (Chook) Houses

He did it. The Farmer caught the fox. The crafty chook-killer was on his way back to the yard hiding under the ancient quince tree when the farmer spotted him. And got him. First shot. I went home that weekend - leaving the madness of deadline til Monday morning. While a roast was cooking in the oven, and The Farmer had finished his day on the tractor sowing more wheat, we went on a date - looking for foxes. It was great team work really. I was spotting (with a really awkwardly large spotlight while hanging out the window of the ute) and The Farmer was on the ready. Good spotting by me found a fox not too far from the homestead, and good shooting by The Farmer meant we'd saved the girls from another threat. They're free to free-range again.

And Then There Were Four

I am in the big smoke, working in the Sydney office for VL's July/August deadline. I always look forward to stepping back into the office – a chance to wear outfits other than my garden gear… And be surrounded – so to speak - by new gorgeous things from around the world. It is always inspiring in here.
While I’m away The Farmer calls me with Pine Hill updates. Sowing is in full swing with the paddock along the front drive already looking green. You can’t help but get excited when you see the wheat poking its head up in their perfect rows. Last night, after my delicious dinner in Darlinghurst, The Farmer called to say the fox had returned and that two more chooks had been taken. (With recent events, I’m not sure why one would think it a good idea to let the ladies roam at dusk, but what can you do… he did have good intentions…) At hearing them cackle and causing a fuss, The Farmer ran outside to their rescue only to see the fox running off into the saltbush. Feathers everywhere, a chook clambering to the ceiling of the chookhouse, and a headcount of only four he declared war. The villain had been identified. So he went hunting. He found it over by the sheds… missed the shot… found it hiding in a fallen tree… missed the shot… found it by Saltbush Cottage… missed the shot. He sounded a defeated man – and was clearly missing his sidekick to hold the spotlight (moi). I admit shooting with one hand, sounds rather difficult.
The phone call this morning though, had a happy resolve – the two chooks we thought were taken, were found pecking around the garden this morning. They had escaped the jaws of the fox and slept in a tree. Quite clever really. They apparently look every bit like they’ve been in a tussle – a bit featherless, but none the less alive. By running outside to their calls for help, The Farmer had saved them. A chicken hero. He’s halfway there. It aint over ‘til the cunning fox is gone for good.

Then There Were Six

Tragedy over night. Another chook gone - the injured one. A brownie. It must be a fox,the cunning thing. It happened at dusk when they were on their way back to the chookyard for bed. Couldn't have been the dogs - they were with me. Feathers everywhere make a suspicious trail to a hole in the boundary fence. No more roaming 'round the garden chickedees. We're in lockdown (for the time being). Mr Fox out in the saltbush is having a good old laugh. Fantastic. Fear not my feathered friends, we'll be waiting for him tonight...

A Chook Down

Oh dear, upon delivering the chooks their kitchen offerings this morning, I arrived at their yard to find a carpet of black feathers. A quick headcount confirmed my fears. We are a black chook down - and the limping chook explained the sporadic brown feathers also around the place. The poor girls. What a horrible thing.

I thought the culprit must be a fox and immediately had plans to wait by the chookyard with shotgun in hand tonight, but the guilty looks on the dogs' faces when I returned to the house meant I need not endure the cold. I had thought we were successfully past this stage. Obviously not. There is not a bit of it left. The labrador and puppy ate the lot. Poor Black Chook, she was almost old enough to start laying - we got five little additions to the chookyard about 22 weeks ago as 5 day old chicks, above. So then there were seven - now just one black chicken and six Isa Browns.

Floribunda

It is a lovely cool morning today. After taking Molly and Huckleberry for their walk - Molly full of anticipation and on high alert for rabbits basking in the morning sun, I thought it a good time for picking roses. Walking through the garden I see I have an aphid issue again. Caterpillars are also back - they're even eating little holes in the geraniums which can't taste that good. Between these and the puppy, flowers are having a tough time of it. But there were a handful pretty enough to arrange in a jug for our humble entrance. David Austin's roses are my favourite - 'The Alnwick Rose' (the raspberry coloured rose in the centre of the arrangement) which I put in the ground last winter, is completely covered in buds. The poor bush looks far too little for so many blooms - alas will have to relieve her and bring them inside. The fuller apricot roses, 'Jude The Obscure', is ridiculously fragrant this time of year. I added another two bushes to make a triangle of three last winter with the hope of an abundance of flowers next year - they're currently suffering a little from blackspot as the lemongrass had grown up thickly around them. My sister chooses a new David Austin rose for me each winter - first was Jude and last winter was Summer Song - beautiful, but isn't thriving, though it too has become swamped by other plants. I'm now in ruthless removal and prune mode in the garden. Will bring out the Austin book next visit for this year's choice. The pears are from an ancient pear tree in the garden. She was all but dead, so took to her with a chainsaw and in response has made a remarkable comeback. I pruned her properly for fruit production last year and we've been getting little clusters of pears since summer. Also in the jug are a couple of different Salvias: 'Santa Barbara' and something else, with some Achillea and Buddleja - all of which are from a buddy of mine at work. Half of my garden has been carted from News Magazines' headquarters. Cuttings and seeds, are delivered to my desk each deadline, potted in some rocket-fuel-cocktail of a potting mix, as these plants have all thrived in their new unfamiliar surroundings. Grazie mille Francesco.

In my last entry, I really ignored the time that had lapsed between posts - my apologies. I have been MIA in the garden. I did however, manage to come inside for Easter and make my first ever hot cross buns! They were best straight out of the oven, above, with a good spreading of Lurpak butter.

The days are so beautiful at the moment, I have been more outside than in. From morning to evening, I've been working on a new garden bed running down the driveway, and making some breathing space for plants strangling each other in the eastern garden bed. The eastern bed is what I first worked on when I moved to Pine Hill, and is what I look out to from my desk here in the cottage. It is so pleasing to discover all the baby plants that are sprouting from seed - all to be transplanted in the coming days to the new bed...Enough typing. I can see the Lambs Ears I have lifted out of the ground beginning to wilt...

Red Raspberries

Autumn is the best time for raspberries here. They do try to fruit in spring, but its really too hot for the little morsels. Now they are plump and sweet. I think they taste better at the end of the day. I wonder weather its the same starch-converting-to-sugar thing that goes on with peas (I've read you should pick peas at the end of the day for this reason). I was picking some for desert by torchlight the other night - they were chilled and so sweet. I have to share with Molly - she finds them rather tasty and has learned to pull them off their cores one by one. I mistakenly pruned half my canes to the ground in summer - I did an experiment as I wasn't sure when to prune... shouldn't have cut them to the ground - i'd have twice as many raspberries if I'd left them alone. Note to self for next year: leave raspberries 'til winter. The more vigorous neighbouring youngberries are growing everywhere, and are being transplanted to climb the chookyard fences. Gosh I hope they do as well over there, we had so many huge and delicious fruit last spring.

Cool Change

I am possibly jumping the gun when I proclaim that autumn is here - March can often be stinking hot in these parts - but the days have turned gentle and mornings are cool. The Farmer has decided today is the day to switch to work jeans and leave work shorts in his wake. The garden with all the summer rain and now unchallenging temperatures, looks perky - roses have their full colour and perfume, and all the different greens make things look happy to be alive. I was weeding yesterday and a little glossy green frog popped up out of the shasta daisies and sat on a leaf - he was the sweetest little thing, but I didn't draw too much attention to him in fear of the labrador (always by my side) fast ruining my blissful nature moment in a mouthful. So after a few minutes of sun baking, he disappeared amongst the lambs ears. I have prepared the veggie patch for winter deliciousness. The pictures, above, are of last year's attempt. Winter is good for show - you tend to channel Mr McGregor and those mischievous bunnies. Armed here with my Stephanie Alexander's Kitchen Garden Companion, I think I'll plant broccoli, Brussels sprouts, cauliflower, a few cabbages, peas, spinach, spring onions, broad beans and want to try fennel, carrots and parsnips this year. I'll also throw in a chilli plant, seeing as The Farmer got carried away with the Round Up last year and caused it to shrivel. The soil looked wonderful turning it over with some extra cow manure - so many earthworms! Garden people talk about getting your soil to look like chocolate-for-plants - it appears to be the Lindt 90% cacao variety in the veggie patch. Hopefully plants reward me with plenty to harvest.

The Adventures of Molly and Huckleberry ©

We have a new addition to our extended family: Huckleberry. With the tragic loss of Banjo (The Farmer's trusty sidekick for so many years) we thought another little playmate would help brighten things up around here. Huckleberry at just eight weeks old, has settled in nicely to his new surroundings - he and Molly get along famously (she is beside herself with excitement). He was weary at first of the eight chooks we have roaming around the garden - though The Farmer is currently outside giving him a lesson on how chasing them is not ok - he seems to have overcome his poultry fears. He's a game little thing - he is right up there in Molly's face despite her contrasting size and her absentmindedness when it comes to the implications her giantism might ensue. Huckleberry is completely adorable - every bit a rascal. A huckleberry friend for The Farmer.

Little Italy

Summertime brought copious amounts of cherry tomatoes (from memory Tiny Tim went in the ground - that's what my pop grows too). I was also privileged to be given some seedlings of a local family's heirloom green tomatoes - which were a delicious (and aesthetically pleasing) addition to salads and Napolitana sauces. I couldn't help but think of the movie Fried Green Tomatoes every time I picked some. Basilico is also plentiful. The four bushes in the garden are more than enough for picking as I need in the kitchen. Like two Italian nonnas, Mrs M and I sat at my kitchen table the other night, filling colanders with leaves from the harvest, above. The room smelled delicious! And we've split the yield to make pesto, pasta/tomato sauces, and will dry the rest to use in the winter. Buono! Ciao.

Summer Rain

It rained a couple of weekends ago like we’ve never seen it rain before. 6 inches in 48 hours. It just kept coming and caused local flooding all over the farm. With all the water draining to the back paddocks, the lucerne was under threat of drowning, so the dust was brushed off an irrigation pump - having been out of action for 8 years - and off she went. Channels were full, parts of paddocks under water, the homestead dam full, and the labrador thought all her Christmas’ had come at once. The farm is so green at the moment - walking into the garden is such a treat for this time of year. There are flowers everywhere and the lawn is lush. Ducks and ibis are all over the farm. Frogs are in chorus and even mozzies are around. The Farmer keeps telling me rain is the source of life. I think he might be right.

Wedding reflection

Below is a reel of photographs from our wedding that we hope tell the story. We had the most incredible day. So many beautiful memories. And we’re incredibly grateful for everyone who helped in making the day so special - those who travelled far and wide to get to Pine Hill, neighbours who helped with flowers and decorations, local suppliers, Saskia from Grandiflora who said yes to filling an air-conditioned four wheel drive with eighteen table arrangements in their vases (and Matt & Renee for being their transport), and the endless list of suppliers from Perth to Sydney who managed to get stuff to the Central West in no time at all. And of course my sister Liv, honorary bridesmaid and tireless go-to for all things wedding.

Welcome

So the next chapter in the story begins. We’re hitched. It’s rained. And our life in the bush is filled with happy times, lots of learning, loving and life long memories in the making. We hope you enjoy the stories we tell of our life together from the cottage at Pine Hill.