Wandering Cowgirl

Living life in the country.

Dear friends

I am writing this from the back of my Ute, on the side of the highway. I’m somewhere between Dubbo and Adelaide and let me tell you all, it is freaking hot. Not ‘oh it’s a tad warm’ hot, I’m talking melt the bitumen, fuel evaporates kind of hot. So here I am pulled up on the side of the road under a big ole gum tree, Jack and Buck are hobbled next to this lovely patch of wild oats and we are basically kicking back waiting for the heat to pass. I promised you all regular updates so here it is. I decided to change the plan on you all and skip the emails and upload a Blog just because I’m lazy and it seems easier.

You probably all have a range of questions that you cannot harass me with because you’re all on the other side of the computer screen but I guess the one you’re all screaming is, what the hell are you doing? But I don’t much feel like going into that right now but I will tell you this, I am heading home to my father’s station, with my two horses and my dog. Why doesn’t matter right now.

Tonight I will drive the Hay Plain and slowly make my way back into South Australia. I feel like a bit of a rouge, parking up during the day and driving through the night but the poor old ute just cannot handle pulling two fat critters in 45 degree heat. We stop in every town, no matter how big or small, fuel up, water up and unload the horses for a pick and a drink. Yesterday I was lucky enough to meet a lovely old lady who lives on the outskirts of town; she offered us a place to park up for the day. The horses had a dam to play in, the dog had shade and I heard some funny stories from the good old days in an air conditioned house. It was divine.

Jack is the ever anxious “Mighty Fine” of whom my old boss retired in a hurry after he came dead last. Again. For the seventh time. I paid for him with a carton of Red Tins, papers and all. He offered to load him on the float for me too, that’s how much he likes the horse…or not. Not too worry girls and boys, Jack may be a high strung Thoroughbred who will not gallop, often comes out of the gates and puts on a rodeo show, wind sucks and is basically a mess " I see something in him. I can’t quite put my finger on it but I feel it in my gut, the power he has when you ride him " he has it, he just won’t give it up. Perhaps this ‘holiday’ to the station will do him the world of good. Buck on the other hand is the mischievous, troublemaker whom you can always count on to come to the party when you need him. I have clerked on him for the past two years " for those of you who are not Race track savvy, Clerking is where you escort the race horses on and off the track, to the staring gates and catch the rouge ones that have dumped their jockeys. That’s where Buck shines, with a fiery hot blooded critter playing up beside him. I wouldn’t trade him for the world.

Any I’d best go tie these horses up under a tree and have a camp for a few hours " hopefully we can get some good miles behind us tonight. Talk to you all later.

Wandering Cowgirl x

 

Hi Friends

                 

I hope you are all well. And staying cool. You are probably all just getting home from an awesome night out on the town. It’s 3am here in South Australia and I just thought I would update you all with my predicament. It’s three in the morning and what do you know, the old girl has broken down. I think it’s serious " it sounds serious. So here I am, my broken ute resting noisily in the moonlight ( I swear it sounds like something is cooking under that engine) my destination is only 35kms down that dirt road (not that you can see it). By some stroke of luck I have phone reception, but I won’t push my luck and assume it will follow me down that dirt road.

The way I see it there are two options " park up, leave the critters in the float and sleep ‘till daylight and hope someone comes along before it heats up. Why not call road side assistance I hear you ask? Well you see, I’m out of mullah and Mummy Dearest (formally known as my own personal bank) has closed business. No more handouts. She did however give me enough money to buy fuel to get to my father’s station, well that credit cards balance is about one cent of zero. And she has instructed her ‘people’ to screen my calls " only non-finance related calls from this little black duck. Thanks mum. So option one " wait and hope to be helped by some random kind stranger or saddle up and ride the last leg. Yep - lock the car, pack the essentials and move on.

Hopefully update you all tomorrow some time.

Gone for a moonlit ride

Mwah x

Calm down people!

Here I am. Yes I am alive. Yes I did get lost. Yes I made it to the station. No I did not appreciate the frantic phone call from my mother at five am this morning " whoever alerted the fun police I do not appreciate it. Snitch! Fancy riding into the wilderness, in the middle of freaking nowhere, enjoying the cool gentle breeze floating around, the crickets singing. Picture this, two relaxed horses, breathing quietly into the space between night and dawn, me " half asleep, thinking how nice this is when a noise  pierces the silence " my phone. I guess you really had to be there to really grasp what came next but long story short, s**t (both literally and gear wise) went flying, horses went in every direction and little old me ended up flat on my arse. Thanks Mum. Half an hour later I had caught my horses, found all my s**t and called back my frantic mother " who evidently, had in the half an hour since her unanswered phone call rang my father. I had a text from her "“Where are you. I heard something crazy. Rang Dad. He’s coming to get you” I’d only just got back into a rhythm with the boys and got them settled again when another noise stood out from the building dawn havoc " a engine, assumedly connected to a vehicle. He roared right past me, high beam blinding me. I assume he saw me because he must have braked but I was fairly occupied trying to keep a hold on Jack, who for the second time in half an hour dropped the ball and completely lost his s**t. This time Buck was on my team, caught the ball and stuck next to that crazy f****r like a sticky fly- which was handy because I could see f**k all, half blinded by his lights.

I must say the first words I spoke to my father in nearly 18 years were not entirely pleasant. But screw him " YES he should have known that I would be that far down the track and RIGHT next to the DRIVEWAY. Most sane people would stick to the road. Apparently we were not far from the homestead " only five Ks. Needless to say I sent him and his horse float back to where they had come. He promised me coffee. I asked for a beer. He shook his head and off he went, rattling down the driveway.

Ok so reunion over. I made it. I have phone service (at times, you know when it suits me) and I don’t know how much I’ll update this page. Must go " not only is the scenery divine, there’s a station hand out there in the cattle yards who has my name written on his lips " he just doesn’t know It yet.

Me x

Hi all

Can I make everyone a deal? If you all stop texting, ringing & emailing me wanting to know every little detail about everything, I promise to TRY to update this page say �" once a month? Ok �" once a week. Fancy being in the middle of nowhere �" and I do mean red dirt, dusty, nearest neighbour is 50kms down the road middle of nowhere �" and having phone reception, well in one room in the homestead any way.

Ok so I have been here for exactly one week and, dramatic entrance aside, not much has happened. Well nothing major or life changing. Lots of little stuff. That station hand I was telling you about- Chase �" what kind of parent names their kid Chase? Well that boy has it in for me. And not in a good way. First day here he decided to put Buck and Jack in a nice big roomy yard, which for normal horses would be great but those who know Buck know, he is anything but normal. Now Buck is not silly, he weighed up the bare yard and the slightly green tuckers growing next to the dry creek not that far down the track. I think you can all imagine what happened next. Buck helped himself to a free feed while Jack worked himself into a state. Now this boy is not as smart as some, he assumed that Buck had had his feed and the escape was a once off so he put him back into the yard. Now for a horse that is used to moving around all day, four days couped up in a horse float was not his idea of fun. He had no intention of staying put, hence he once again ended up down the creek. Soon a game of catch me if you can began between Chase and Buck, I watched all of this happening from my window. Laughing loudly to myself. Good on you Buck.

My father does not seem like a bad bloke. Very unsure of how to handle this adult daughter that has just bounced back into his life overnight but ok. Apparently he doesn’t have himself a woman, which does surprise me. I mean he is a fairly alright looking kind of bloke and from what I have seen, the ladies love him. Oh yes, he runs himself a tidy little business breaking in and re-educating horses, mainly for women and they seem to pop into “Check the progress of my horse”, constantly. More like stare at him with puppy dog eyes. He doesn’t seem oblivious to the attention, in fact I think he secretly revels in it really but he does approach it as a bit of a workplace hazard. Currently he has two breakers & two re-educators in work and he has his eye on Jack. Perhaps he thinks we could bond while working out this horses crazy thought patterns �" we will see. I won’t say no to his help though, the horse seems to be getting worse not better. Jack has not settled in. He windsucks like a champion, stresses himself out into a sweating, quivering mess and barely eats a thing. Boy does this horse have issues.

The people here are a different kind to the east coasters. They don’t much worry if their car looks good, just as long as it’s running fine or if their horses aren’t triple rugged and stabled �" they’d rather run the risk of (god forbid) the sun ruining their coat or them marking themselves in the paddock �" they’d just rather they be happy when they’re not working. Out here people’s smiles reach their eyes, the beers are earned and horses are let be just that �" horses.

The weather on the other hand leaves something to be desired. I don’t know if I will ever get used to the dryness of the heat. Every time I walk outside the heat hits me like a tonne of bricks. In the face. Hard. No one here can believe that I would prefer the humidity of the Hunter Valley over this god forsaken dry heat but it’s like anything �" it’s just what you’re used too.

Have i told you all about My dog? I guess not. Well for those of you who don't know , she's a teeney tiny fox terrier who thinks that she's ten feet tall and bullet proof. I have seen her take on much bigger, meaner dogs...and saved her many times. i never in a million years dreamed I'd own a yappy dog but i but i couldn't go without her. Any who, my normally loyal dog went missing during the moonlight ride- phone call debacle, off chasing rabbits or something. So really my first day was spent driving around the station looking for Miranda (after Miranda lambert , kick a*s singer) Jason (father) suggested perhaps she had made her way back to my car..i was doubtful. Semi devastated and feeling like I was missing my right arm, we set out to retrieve the ute. I tell you I was too upset and worried about Miranda that I couldn’t even hold any hope that she would be at the ute. She was gone, lost on the station. Pulling up to the ute, my heart dropped when I couldn’t see my little black dog �" I guess I had been a little hopeful. I hid my disappointment in true style �" kicking the broken down piece of crap �" and had the shock of my life when a little black ball of fury came barrelling out from under the car �" protecting the property of her owner. My little black bundle of fury. You may hear a rumour that a certain woman may have cried. It’s a lie. The sticky flies are bad down here.

Mwah

Darling friends

My mother has been “editing” these posts and then emailing them back to me demanding that I replace them. They are not “lady like” enough and apparently some of her friends have been reading the goings on in this Bogans life and she is concerned for her reputation. Screw you mother. But I’m sure she would be editing this and then sending it on via email to them. One must protect ones image.

Any who, life at the zoo has been busy. Buck and myself have been recruited to clerk at the races next week. The father has been running about looking rather nervous about the whole gig ever since he dropped my name in the bucket. Perhaps he thinks I’m too lady like? Or that my horse is too puncey… I guess this is what it feels like to have both your parents worried about you embarrassing them and tainting their reputations. How those two polar opposites ever came together in love and unity to create me amazes me. Because despite what you may think, I was not an oopsie. Nope. This little black duck was planned. Any who I have been helping the ever divine Chase with rodeo stock (another story, rainy day) and moving stock around to keep my trusty steed on his toes. I guess we must be pulling our weight, the other evening the cowboy even offered me a beer. In this world beer is many things �" money, a form of thanks, acceptance. I have taken to calling him Cowboy, because in the two weeks I have been here, Chase has not got any easier to say. While Cowboy offered me a beer, he has lacked somewhat in conversation. And believe me when I say conversation was not my first preference in how we should interact, but no Cowboy must be celebrant or gay because he has ignored my advances like a champion. Either option would be such a waste to woman kind everywhere.

Not much else is new. The weather has been shocking, hot, hotter and scorching. Jack is still being a nutter moron thoroughbred. I tell you this past few weeks has been such an eye opener. We.. I’m sorry I mean Jason has two thoroughbreds in pre-training for local trainers and I tell you what those horses are completely different to what I have seen in my travels. The feeding of them is so different to what I’ve ever seen for horses being worked up to this level of fitness. They just get hay. Three times a day. And these two horses are glowing, coats, eyes, attitudes. So Jack has been stripped. No more goodies. Just hay. Not that it’s helping, he’s still the same jumpy, scatty horse he was two weeks ago. Jason suggested a simple solution �" work. So today we (me, Buck & Jack) are heading out the track and into the hills. Sweat that silly out of him.

My new favourite person in the whole wide world is my grandpa. If the ladies thought the old man was a gun horseman then they would cry over his father. 80 years young and he still kicks around on the coolest of horses. And this man is not afraid of anything, I can imagine him staring down a 800 kilo bull with the same cool eye that he stares at the horse that wants to fight everything and everyone. And that twinkle he gets in his eyes watching all the owners fawning over his son, he says it’s better entertainment than TV and… they’re paying us to be here! He has taken to having his morning & lunchtime coffee under the gum tree near Jacks yard…and he has proven himself quite handy with a stick, especially when Jack wants to windsuck. And rocks. And anything else within reach really. I have never met a person more frustrated with that pesky habit than him. Sump oil is about as handy to this man as duct tape, every surface that can be chewed on, has been painted. But still Jack in insistent on chewing and sucking, last I saw Pa he was strolling across the flat towards the shed muttering something about a muzzle and fixing the so and so (suppose to be a lady remember, a lady does not repeat such language �" well when it can be proven anyway!!)

 

Good morning!

I woke up this morning, walked outside and low and behold, there’s Jack tied up to a rope strung between two trees, pawing & dancing in all his idiotness. Pa later informed me that this was a “Picket line” and that this was going to be Jack’s new home, until he ceased his windsucking.  At one stage of the day I sprung Jason & Pa standing there facing my washed up racehorse with the same disgusted look on their faces, while Jack happily wind sucked away on his rope. The rope was quickly replaced with a chain and my happily windsucking horse was soon replaced with a ball of stomping, dancing and digging frustration. I was warned that if I touch him before he has quit his shenanigans I might just find myself on the picket line myself. I’d like to say that I’m confident that they are joking…but a lady shall not lie. I hedged my bets with a coffee instead, it is becoming a bit of a morning thing, this sitting about with a cup of coffee at sun up, discussing the day to come. Two weeks in and the three of us are developing quite the relationship �" no body mentions the fact that I have been absent from their lives for the past eighteen years and I tell you, it suits me fine. My married friends always say that men are good at hiding their heads in the sand and I must say in this instance I am grateful.  Sand diving suits me just fine.  Everyone keeps asking me �" haven’t you guys discussed where he was? What happened? Why he has been absent? No. Because he wasn’t really absent, he rang, but somewhere along the way, I stopped answering. And where was he? He was right here, living his life without us yes, but only because my mother wanted…more? Something different? A better life? I’m not sure, to be honest I never asked. I guess I wondered at some stage but then I got busy, life got in the way and presto…I was  an adult. So now here we are, three very different adults, kind of starting again. And by starting again I mean us arguing over how to deal with this stupid windsucking horse. (and by I us I really do mean Pa & Jason)

Our big lap around the tracks the other day ended in blood, sweat and beer. I ended up giving the old man and Chase and a couple of the other workers a hand to move a herd of cattle around the property and that equals five hours in the saddle, mostly trot and canter, towing the ever nutty Jack along with us. The sun was easing its way towards the horizon as we made it home and Chase pointed out that Jack was so relaxed that perhaps even a girl could even ride him. Now normally I would bite, but I have seen this horse put on a show and have no intention of being in the saddle. Ever. But the smugness in his voice made me retain this information. Without a word from me Chase had the bridle off his horse on Jack and had swung up into his saddle (another rule �" no horse being re-educated goes anywhere without a saddle on) and gave him a swift kick in the guts. Now I don’t know if any of you have any interest in PBR or Saddle Bronc but a good bucking bull or horse is a pleasure to watch, all the while secretly happy that you are not in the saddle. Now I know I should have said something as Chase swung up onto my renound buck jumper but, well I figured he was being a bit of a tool. So I sat back and watched. Jack trotted off as casual as any horse �" being guided this way and that by very confident hands, those hands connected to a man of whom was undeniably easy to watch in the saddle. I almost believed that he was a changed horse, if it wasn’t for that telling rhythmic flick of his tail or the half-cocked ear to the side (left side ear cocked to the side means hold on tight now).

“Don’t take him cheaply boy” was all Jason said. I guess they had their own sense of pride, these men.

Chase smiled smugly, his blue eyes dancing in the dust. I watched as he lightly tapped his heels into Jacks girth and I swear the world slowed down. The tip of his spurs had barely touched the hairs on the horse when he exploded. It really was a pleasure to watch, the big, headstrong animal serving it up to the cocky young man. I didn’t time the ride but he sat four good bucks. The fifth one unseated his and by the sixth his dancing eyes were closed in concentration. Chase hit the ground with a thud as Jack threw in another one just for good measure. Then he walked back to myself and Buck, and with a swish of his tail looked back at the fallen man as if to size up the damage. Chase mean while struggled to regain his breath. I am fairly certain that there were quite a few words thrown in my direction that I could not possibly repeat (I’m a lady remember!) but I couldn’t quite make them out. Apparently a punctured lung and two broken ribs will do that to a man’s vocal ability. I’m not a fortune teller but I think Jack may be spending a fair bit more time on the picket line over the coming days.

Pa has been chuckling about the “incident” ever since. Not that there has been much time to sit about, since Chase is down and out for a few weeks, I have found myself promoted from “boss’s daughter from the city be nice to her or we might get in the s**t” to half helpful. Perhaps by the weekend I might be half handy. I have found myself many times feeling like an idiot, asking questions about things that I should just know. Like why is a poddy calf called a poddy calf? (I won’t incriminate myself further…) Our day at the races went well, the jockeys were weary at first but after the third race they began to trust me. Not that we had to pick up any rouges or loose horses this meet, but we did have to do some fancy footwork when a filly called “Red Terror” Dumped her rider on the way to the gates. She reared up and when she came down she was just about laying across my saddle. To be honest I cannot remember how Buck got me out of that one but he did, and we came out of it still holding the Terror, not 10 metres from the unscathed jockey and smelling like roses �" so to speak. He really is worth his weight in gold that boy. Never less we were asked to Clerk at the next meet and I did hear a mutter about a pick up team for the Rodeo. Time will tell. I don’t know how keen I am on that one. I think I’d rather just go and drink. But a jobs a job.

                We have this horse in being re-educated at the moment. It arrived yesterday. I cannot begin to explain how ridiculous this horse and its owner are. she is like pony club barbie, and the poor horse is like the barbie horse that comes with a pink trailer, saddle & bridle. She hung around for three hours where she dropped her off and it was like watching a really bad tween movie. She begged and pleaded with the old man not too hurt her darling (of whom she could not possibly ride because the little mare wasn’t having a bar of being ridden. And Barbie could not possibly get her jodphurs dirty. Or her boots, or her hands.) And here in lies a problem. All I have heard from Dad and Pa is that this is the most spoilt horse ever and what a joke, poor horse…blah blah. But truth be told, I wonder if her shiny golden coat has ever seen mud? Or if she has ever been ridden out of the arena. Or eaten grass? Or hell eaten hay. She has definatly not been tied up a great deal as she spend six hours on the picket line next to Jack today, digging, dancing and finally attempting laying down and sulking. (quite comical watching a horse try to lay down while tied to a picket line!) I negotiated free access to the main houses internet in exchange for getting Mrs Barbie doll the hell out off their. I offered her a cocktail at the pub (in a much more glamorous way) and basically hounded her down the drive and out the gate.

Barbie sitter

Xx

 

Hello civilisation

You cannot imagine how happy I am to be back inside a house, sitting in front of a computer, with a cup of hot coffee and my dog by my feet. Oh, and our house is not burned down. Ahh the simple things. You may or may not have heard but we have been terrorised by summers enemy �" bushfire. It started eight days ago with a (normal) relentless northerly wind and maximum temps around the 38 degree mark. About midday a single column of smoke was spotted on the horizon and instantly the people around me changed. The phone rang off the hook ( I was given the job of manning it) utes, bulldozers and trucks roared to life. Prior to my short time here on the station I was naïve to the affects of a bushfire. No more. Hell this is hard to write about. Within minutes of the fire being spotted even I could see we were going to have a problem, the small column of smoke was now an angry black cloud that was steadily working its way along the skyline. A decision was made within the first fifteen minutes to move all of the horses from the property into the sale yards in town. It was also decided that the top deck of the truck should be filled with pregnant heffers. The semi was backed into place and I quickly had my first lesson in loading cattle. Between myself and Pa and Rusty the working dog we loaded a top deck of cattle and every single horse, breakers, yearlings, mares and foals filled the lower deck. The stallion and two colts finished off the load �"tied in the back compartment. An air of panic had settled on the property as we climbed in the cab and the UHF sprang to life.  A hold on too your seats ride into town followed. I told Pa that everything would be ok back home, actually it was more like a question. He gave me a levelling look.

“The wind is due to change in a few hours. It will swing the fire around and push it our way. Not a good day. I think I should leave you here in town.”

I felt like a three year child. I wasn’t staying anywhere. With the truck unloaded we hightailed it back to the station, the ominous cloud of black smoke growing with each minute. I had never felt smaller.

The next fourteen hours were by far the scariest of my life. The fire front arrived late in the evening. Did you know that the heat arrives before the flames? Jason tells me we were lucky, but looking out on our surroundings �" luck is not a word that comes to mind. Burned, hell, smouldering, these are all suitable words. Pa did point out that we managed to save the house, thanks to our quick thinking spray plane operators who dumped a load of water on it. I owe them a beer. Or a carton. Or ten cartons. Apparently they are coping a lot of s**t for doing it, apparently the suits in the city did not approve the manoeuvre and have called them reckless. Those reckless blokes saved five homes that afternoon. Around here we call them champions. Our neighbours were not quite so lucky, they lost everything. Until now I had not met our (I am calling them our because after this ordeal, I think I have a right to stake a claim) neighbours. Now they share our house. TR and his ten year old daughter have filled the two spare rooms in the homestead. TR (I have no idea what his real name is) is a ruggedly sexy man whom I cannot yet enjoy looking at due to current events. Abagail is the loudest, most opinionated, funniest child I have ever met. I mean the kid has lost her home and she is happily (enough) following me around like a bad smell, asking a million dumb questions and filling my head with useless information. And before you ask I do not know what happened Mrs TR, I haven’t found the right time to ask.

So post fire we have been working huge days and late into the night first chasing spot fires and shooting injured live stock, then dozing down burned things. And then there is the repairs. Fences, water pipes if it was flammable or meltable you can bet it needs repairing. Just when we thought we were getting the carnage under control, a hot spot flared up and got away from crews two days ago and they have been battling to get it out ever since. Fourteen days of hell it has been. At least we finally have power back.

Spare a thought to my new friends on the ground fighting the fire and cleaning up. These people deserve medals.

I don’t know how long before I can be online again. I see a crash course in fencing, plumbing, tractor driving and ten year old kids in my very near future.

Xx

 

Hi all

How much can one persons life change in six weeks? Can you believe how much has happened in such a short period of time. I know it’s been a few weeks since I last wrote but I have been one busy woman. Cleaning up after a bushfire is a huge task and sadly, while the media and everyone not in the affected area have moved on, we are left here on the ground. I can now strain a fence, operate a tractor, am fairly handy with a chain saw and am beginning to enjoy a cold beer. The first thing we did after we had put all the stock down that got caught up (not going into detail, believe me ignorance is bliss) is drop some holes and put up some yards so we could bring some of the horses back onto the property. TR was the biggest instigator of this, after I took Abbey into town to check on them just after the fire and she came home with a big ole eat s**t grin on her face I think he thought she could use the distraction. So two weeks after the second fire some of our horses came home. Over a beer it was decided that TR (a retired bronc rider evidently) would ride Jack back from town. I of course was left out of this decision and had no knowledge of this until TR trotted my big, lanky thoroughbred down the driveway. They were a sight to behold �" the time weathered man confidently atop the big brown horse, eyes rolling, tongue constantly rolling his bit (another nervous habit). His normally shiney coat was covered in dried sweat as even after a 35 km ride he still had the energy to dance nervously on the spot. In that moment let me tell you all �" I couldn’t care less! He had been ridden! I wanted to leap up there and plant a kiss on that mans lips. To do that would have required me pick my jaw up off the ground, which in that moment I was incapable of doing.

“He’s a lot of horse little lady �" got a lot of power in him. The trick is slowing down all the s**t rolling around in his silly little head so we can teach him how to  use that power. The old fella’s right though �" be a shame to let him go to waste.” TR told me this as he was quietly fighting Jack to stand still while he unsaddled him. “I’d like to ride him for the time being �" if it’s all the same to you? Your old mans going to be busy with all his breakers and fixing up the place �" be the least I could do”

Of course kind mysterious neighbour, go right ahead. So became the beginning of Jack �" the horse. Between helping out with the breakers, checking on his own property and distracting himself from what he had lost TR kept that horse so busy that he didn’t have the energy to wind suck. Dad later quietly thanked me for allowing TR to play with Jack. He said he would have loved to have done it himself but that TR was the kind of bloke who needed to be busy �" all the time. And Jack was just that kind of horse that needed that kind of work. Pa seems happy with the arrangement too which is a plus. Abagail has become Bucks private groom and in doing so, a big pain in my arse. But like Pa pointed out �" the kids happy, which considering what she has just gone through is not a bad thing. Too bad he’s not the kind of horse that you could let a kid ride, I mean pony ride around a yard no problem but outside? He’s just too much. Not too worry.

The “Barbie” horse has been keeping dad on his toes �" apparently she does not know how to behave, eat hay, graze or socialize. After strict orders from madam Barbie not too leave the little mare outside unrugged, let her out with any other horses or basically do anything completely normal for a horse (god forbid she get a scratch on her!) where has Pa turned decided the best place is for her? Out in the new front paddock with the weanlings. Those little babies are full of beans and bit by bit teaching this little mare how to relax and behave like a horse. Under Dads calm hand the riding side of her has really come about and guess who has been told is the next jockey? Yep I am going to look like the biggest dick head atop this little creamy horse �" Like Barbies feral cousin.

Our aim for the rest of this week is to repair the boundary fence so that we can bring some of the stock home, which finds myself, Chase & TR on horse back for the bulk of most days. You may ask why are we on horseback and not in utes? Asking that same question myself I was met with a shrug and a shake of the head and “The horses need to be out doing things too.” Jack looks hilarious with tools and all sorts hanging off his saddle �" seemingly he has given up the bucking caper for the moment. Evidently fires are as unpredictable as they are destructive and while we kept our house and most of our sheds we lost a lot of our feed and most of our fencing. TR next door lost his house, sheds & most of his machinery but the western side of his property was left mostly untouched. Between Dad, Pa and TR they have worked out some sort of stock rotation system between the two properties until feed grows back and fences are repaired. Now you may think we have great neighbours and all that neighbourly love blah blah. Yesterday I met one of our other neighbours, the Smiths. The Smiths are a middle aged couple who own a small slab of land on our boundary fence close into town and with every piece of my being I believe they are going to be trouble. As soon as their bus rolled into our yard Pa disappeared and TR found himself an excuse to drop back to his place, leaving myself, Dad and Abbey to entertain them. Mr Smith is as slimy as is wife is horrid �" within minutes of them both being in our house he had made a pass at me and she had told me exactly how I should be doing everything. While Dad and Mr Smith wondered outside to talk business, Abbey took the opportunity to find something else to do, leaving me with Mrs Smith. This woman who honestly looks like a troll proceeded to fill me in on how Pa has done them wrong. How she was so much more of a better horse person than Dad, how he was bordering on cruel with his methods. And how awful my mother was a person for doing what she did to my father. I was also filled in with the gossip version of what happened between TR and Abbeys mother (she was scum too). I drew the line when she insinuated that Abbey was trouble and that if anything were to go missing to look her way. Five minutes. Five horrible minutes and I already hated these people. But that, that was the final straw. Seeing red I sweetly told this stranger that she could kindly stop talking s**t while in my home and that the front gate was open and she best be taking her negativity and opinions back out of it and close it on the way out. I have never seen a woman move so quickly �" she practically spat at me with a “Who the hell do you think you are??!” Before high tailing it out of the door. What ever she said to Dad and her husband about me was impossible to decipher as her voice had moved into dog whistle range of high but it couldn’t have been pleasant. With the grinding of the gearbox and the squeal of tires on loose gravel they were gone. Red was all I could see. A single shot of whiskey was placed in front of me, looking up I met Dads shining eyes.

“Are you educated now?” He chuckled. I could have slapped that smirk off his face.

Some warning would have been nice.

Enough wasted space on that horrible person. Hopefully that’s the last I have to do with them. Word on the grapevine is that there is a picnic race day in the planning. Part of me is interested; the rest of me just couldn’t be bothered. Pa seems to think if the race eventuates it might be a good chance to see if we can get Jack around the track with a jockey �" still on his back that is. But I really just cannot be bothered. This past week or so has really made me sit back and take stock, I mean you all know me (or maybe you don’t? Have we picked up some straggers?) I am about the challenge, the win �" beating the man and sticking it too him as I beat him (metaphorically….of course). But now I’m thinking screw the man. He doesn’t pay my bills �" I do. He doesn’t piss me off- I give him the power to piss me off. There are probably many more things worthy of my time and energy �" I have never done a single thing for charity, give money yes but actually dedicated time or effort? Not a second. Not that it has been something that has crossed my mind much but as they say �" where there is fire, someone is going to get burned.

And what about my financial responsibility to myself? My future? Gah. Enough of this s**t. Like I said �" screw the man. Barbies bogan cousin has a flash horse to work, poor dear might even break a sweat.

Mwah. X.

Firstly, I must apologise.

While my last post may be true, I do believe the end may have been a wee bit heavy. Two voice mail messages from Mum saying how excited she was that I have “seen the light” and three emails with charity suggestions later I saw the light alright. Well people the light has been switched off. I will continue to ‘screw the man’ (metaphorically of course Mum, unknot your knickers) But I will leave the world saving to more apt people for the moment and focus on my own backyard. Between the six of us (Chase, Pa, Dad, TR, Abbey & yours truly) we have decided to give racing Jack a go. Us five mature ones came to the decision over a few to many beers in the wee hours of last night. Abbey excitedly suggested that the money rose when he won (because of course nothing could stop him, right!? HaHa.) could go towards repairs from the fire. Not that I am going to be betting any money on him, he’s just as likely to dump him jockey at the gates than he is to put in a good run. But the mood around here today is calmer, more focused.

The race is in six weeks, 1^st place is worth $1500 and apparently there is no outside rail on the track. Dad let slip that his trainer’s license is still valid so he has been pegged as trainer. It’s only a picnic race meet so there is no need for any paperwork with Race SA. Just show up and get around the track- hopefully. Evidently four years track work experience lands you the top job, those crazy b******s seem to think that I am going to be Jacks jockey. Too much smoke has been inhaled over the past few weeks.

Moving on…It really is hard to find anything comical to write about. I still struggle to find the words to describe what we are living amongst every day, the smell,  the rolling charcoaled paddocks and the memory. Every time I look out the window I don’t see the wilted garden �" instead I see the orange flicker of flames licking sinisterly down the hill towards us. Lately I have found that if I focus too much on the memories it feels like the air can suddenly leave my lungs. Has anyone ever felt like that? Like you’re having a heart attack? Or your heart is beating so damned hard that you feel your ribs may just crack from the force. TR suggested that a nip of port might be beneficial, here I was thinking port was a winter drink. Evidently, chilled makes it bearable.

The yards are just about finished and we have a semi load of hay due to roll in next week so Dad can start to roll some breakers in. I promise there will be some funny stories once the horses start rolling in again. Mind you there has been some interesting moments when it comes to men on this place. I am very thankful for Abagails presence on the property, at the moment there is so much testosterone rolling around that you could be forgiven for thinking that you might just grow a penis. Chase is still barely speaking too me. He really is a huge confusion. When were together and the conversation gets rolling it is as easy as breathing. Then there are times when I spot him looking at me and it just grabs me, kind of like electricity rolling between us. But most of the time he avoids me like the plague. I am of half a mind to corner him and ask him what the hell the deal is. I mean it’s not like I’ve been trying to jump in his bed or anything, the thought has occurred to me many times before the fire but lately I have found all I really want is a friendly face and someone to have a chat and a laugh with. I’ll get my sexy on when I go to Adelaide next. I guess in my head we have moved into that platonic space. Or maybe not even? Hell I don’t even know if I could call him a friend.

Watching Abbie run around after Pa is a very amusing, free source of entertainment. She has decided that when she grows up she is going to be a super horse person and believes who heartedly that the only way to do so is to learn as much as she possibly can from the horsemen in her life. Dad absolutely terrifies her, Chase has wised up to her game and basically can run faster than Pa so she has made herself Pa’s shadow. I thought that Pa would have thrown in the towel and cracked it with her by now but He is actually really quite beautiful with her. She has even started to dress differently. Jeans and a check shirt has become her uniform, come to think of it they have become my uniform too. Abbey was whinging the night that she didn’t have any riding boots or a wide brim hat and that she was sick of running around in sneakers and a cap. TR calmly told his daughter that her work boots were fine and the cap and sunscreen would surface. Bottom lips dropped and silence followed �" which I am learning means that the kid is properly upset. Silence from Abbey. Not a good thing. Later that night Pa cornered me and asked if I minded if he gave Abbey my old riding boots and Akubra. I was shocked that he even still had that stuff, I have only seen those items in the photos hanging on the walls in this big old house and in dim far away memories from my childhood. Of course Abbey could have the boots and hat. What on earth was I going to do with them? I must say if tugged my heartstrings when I noticed Pa was a little chocked up as he thanked me and I swear I saw a tear. What was it with that kid and him? The smile was bigger than the sun the next morning when he presented her with her new “uniform” at the breakfast table.

Talk to you all later

X

 

Hi All

The world is on fire! Oh. My. God. It is one of those days where you are sure that the ground is going to melt. Today has been one of those days. By 6am this morning it was 32 degrees and climbing, by 9am the mercury had climbed to 39. By 9.30 am it settled at a brutal 43.2 degrees in the shade. Do you know that when it’s that hot that the tar in bitumen melts? Not that we have bitumen out here ( that was a fun fact courtesy of Abbey) that unleaded petrol cannot be pumped, the fridge becomes your oasis, beer is acceptable before lunch and horses and cattle drink three times their normal water. So instead of hiding inside in a darkened room under an aircon (which by the way looks like it was built in the 1950s! Such a dinosaur) like most sane people, today we could be found checking water troughs, sitting on hot spots from the fires, and dealing with each others flaring temper. We have a old cast iron bath in the main house paddock that is used as a water point for the horses that survived the fire (how very Mcleods Daughters of us I hear you say) that it occurred to me that filling it with ice and water would make a very appealing place to cool off �" if only I had some ice. Not having access to ice in the middle of a heat wave is like not having a waterproof jacket in the rain �" a massive pain in the arse. Chase found me standing in the scorching sun, next to the bath intently trying to solve my iceless puzzle. I turned to yell at him and take some frustration out on him, not in the mood for his hot/cold moodiness bullshit and was faced with a lovely sight. Imagine this ladies, 6ft 3 sweaty bundle of muscle wrapped up in dirty jeans and a beat up ‘wife beater’ tank shirt, staring at me with a half bemused grin on his face holding out a semi cold beer �" his idea of a peace offering. Oh my. Forget about what I said about platonic �" there is no place for platonic thoughts with a body like that.

It was 11.30 am so of course I took his beer- well snatched his beer and I managed to get another member on team  ice bath. And in the brutal heat of the day a plan was hatched �" Abbey would plead crook and require a trip to town �" which of course yours truly being the ‘lady’ (shut up and stop laughing) of the house would have to take her (note to everyone men will always assume it’s a “lady issue” and they never want to go to that place therefore will ask no more questions). Chase offed to drive as my ute would melt in the heat and he needed supplies. Within minutes we were driving down the driveway three eat s**t grins on our faces, very pleased with ourselves. A education in 90’s driving music for Abbey followed �" can you believe this kid has never heard Bryan Adams “Summer of 69”? I must have a conversation with TR on his parenting priorities! We babied the old landcruiser into town and still got their in under an hour. Before the engine had shut down completely we had brought every bag of ice that we thought we could stuff into the six eskys that were filling up the tray. A quick cold one in the sweet sweet air conditioning of the front bar of the pub was what we agreed on before hitting the road again. Chase and Abbey introduced me to the ten people in the Pub that I had not met and I had a lovely catch up on all the district gossip with the Girl behind the bar. I forgot how much I had missed female conversation (of my own age that is) until I was engaged in one. Wasting the entire day in that beautiful, cool front bar would have been easy and two hours passed much too quickly but by 2.30pm Chase dragged myself and Abbey out kicking and screaming (and laughing) to return home. I promised Sarah (Bar wench �" of her own calling. Girl has a wicked sense of humour) I would make my way back into town for the band Friday night for a few drinks. It’s nice to think I may have  found a normalish, level headed mate in a place where they seem to breed strangeness.

I tell you what, if you are thinking of making yourself an ice bath in 44 degree heat out in the open, under the hottest afternoon sun. Don’t. Your effort will be rewarded with maybe 15 minutes of icey water then the b*****d sun will melt it all away. But, if you can be bothered I must say- that 15 or so minutes were absolute total bliss. Of course Chase and myself are two very responsible grownups so the water fight that followed I blame 100 precent on Abbey. But hell it was good fun. In this heat, you just got to do what you can to stay sane.

There was a second there; amoungst all the laughing and water flying around that I swear I felt a real connection between myself and Chase. Our eyes locked, and it wasn’t in a in the movies kind of way- it was in a real-kick you in the guts kind of way- and I felt like I was home. It was the hottest shittiest day, in the middle of nowhere, kilometres from the nearest town and I could honestly not imagine anywhere I would rather be. Unless you could magically move the two of us to the beach. In 30 degree weather. Wouldn’t that be bliss…

Heat does funny things to one’s brain now doesn’t it? It is  currently a lovely 32 degrees outside at 11pm and even minus a breeze the difference in 10 degrees is lovely.