'Tis the season

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: Ecclesiastes 3:1

Summer has arrived with all its attendant risks; namely bush fires.   While I may [mildly?] complain about raking leaves yesterday a vivid reminder of the reason why made itself obvious.

We went to the northern city on a minor shopping expedition, and is our normal procedure we headed up back roads where, one hopes, the lunatic driver would never consider spinning his tyres.  Significant Other has a two-way radio in the vehicle giving us a blow by blow account of major, or minor, incidents that occur on the highway.  Some of these conversations are amusing as 'comments' between drivers of the many road trains keep alive the obvious camaraderie between the converyors of our daily needs.  At one stage several drivers asked about a fire.  

It became obvious that a small grass fire, alongside the main highway, had not only been noticed, but was under control.  Many farmers have a 'fire appliance' as part of their plant ... this could be as simple as a water- tank on the back of a ute ... just in case of need.

We shopped; nothing exciting ... groceries etc and travelled home;  the temperatures warm [37°], blustery winds skating seed heads of wild radish across the highway like frightened rabbits. 

However, upon switching on the radio [to catch up with the latest news or 'perhaps news'] bush fire warnings were being broadcast regularly.  A bush fire, that began as a 'controlled burn' in the south/west of Western Australia had gotten out of control.  The fact that a controlled burn was undertaken at the end of winter, which is the normal time for a controlled burn; a time when a burn can be kept under control; had escaped and was causing havoc.  This morning we hear the dreaded news; at least 19 homes have been destroyed.

There are many questions being asked as to why the burn took place; there are folk living in the Margaret River area who do not know if their home will survive should the strong winds, forecast again for today, turn the fire their way.

I note that the strong winds here have distributed another carpet of leaves that need raking.  This is an ongoing task, one that is hard hot work on a day when the temperatures are in the high 30's.  There is a reason for raking, and the season is ... always.

Bush Fire Preparation

Spring is a season of variations; this spring is extremely variable.  Spring is also the time when householders should clear litter from around their homes as one precaution to avoid the devastion of a bush fire destroying property.

 

This time last year when returning from an outing we noticed more than usual vehicles on 'our' road, which is not the main highway.  In the distance a wisp of smoke curled upwards ... a bushfire!  We soon found out that the bushfire had blocked the main highway, hence the upsurge in vehicles on the secondary road.

 

Spring this year has been wet; compulsory fire-breaks along boundary lines are growing again making the risk of a fire in summer a greater risk.

 

While boundary fire-breaks are made with tractor and slasher or plough other precautions are essential.  My self appointed task is the raking of leaves; it is endless, and when flies are plentiful [one never reads in glossy tourism pamphlets the trials one experiences re flies and other creepy crawlies], and the sun shines from a blue, blue sky, and rivulets of perspiration drip from the raker's face and neck and clothes cling to the body like a suit of clothes three sizes too small, this task is simply a chore.

 

We have a lawn in winter, and with luck it only needs mowing four or five times a year; the rest of the year outdoors is a carpet of sand with a splattering of twigs and leaves that fall at the slightest zephyr of breeze onto the sand.  For one who has spent most of her life in green New Zealand the sand, flies, and never-ending fall of gum leaves can become rather depressing.  Raking those leaves helps ... I guess it could be on par with disposing of unwanted 'whatever' one dislikes the most!

On an average 'raking and barrowing' day I can remove a dozen or so wheelbarrow loads to the bonfire that can only be lit in winter, and then with a goodly supply of water on hand ... just in case it spreads to the surrounding paddock.

gum leaf litter

clothes line area cleared two weeks ago

leaves on bonfire

My life in Western Australia is a 1000 times removed from my previous existence in New Zealand, and there are days [when the flies are bad, the mosquitoes are biting, and snakes slither hither] when I close my eyes and imagine that safe greeness of New Zealand.  Then in an Australian winter when temperatures seldom fall below 12°, and family in New Zealand report snow and hail and ice, I am grateful for what I do have here. 

If only those leaves only fell in one season, not all the year around!

Ice

With the warm weather only a whisker away this morning, time has been spent raking leaves ... this is an endless, ongoing task; one that I tackle when visitors are expected, or when the hot days of summer and the bush-fire risk aids urgency.

Admittedly I had raked the leaves into bundles a couple of weeks ago, and had not got round to it, but overseas visitors expected early next week added urgency.   There is a song here in Australia, one of the lines being, "Give me a home among the gum trees'.  We live among the gum trees, they shelter us from excessive sun and storms and in return drop dead leaves with the slightest zephyr. 

While wheeling the barrow to the 'heap' I yearned for a block of ice to quench the thirst, and reinvigorate the enthusiasm.  Suddenly a memory from my primary school days scrambled from the corners of a cluttered mind ... one word sprung to mind ... Ice.

In my youthful days few households had a refrigerator.  How did you keep food cool and fresh I hear you ask!  A Safe; a cream and green metal safe that hung under the weeping plum tree on the back lawn kept food safe from attack of flies and the gentle breeze wafted in keeping food 'more or less' fresh.  I daresay there were some occasions when it didn't work, but my Mother, mindful of the fussiness of her two children, never advertised those moments at the dinner table!

We never had a refrigerator, indeed as a child our home did not have electricity!  And that will leave you with a million questions as to how ... when you know no other way it is easy.

I lived in the country, travelling by bus to a school in the town.  Country children took cut lunches, buying fish and chips or a pie once a week; town children went home for lunch.  A bus took those, who lived on the outskirts of town, home, returning them 10 minutes before class.  Us Country Children did not envy those Town Children at all;  exciting things happened in the lunch hour!  Knuckle bones, pick-up-sticks, skipping, annoying boys playing marbles ... all the usual happenings of the era.

But, come a hot summer day [a little like today] and the Country Children crowded the bus stop for the return of the Town Children.  Because ~ some brought a preserving jar full to the brim with little blocks of ice which were dished out to 'friends'.  On those days the Town Children had more friends than ice, but the secret was to be close to the bus when the door opened!

Today I made do with a glass of cold water, followed by a swig of a popular sports drink, as per doctor's orders;  dehydration in the Australian warmer weather when one is raking and shovelling is almost as bad as death, except there is a return! 

Writing

Last night the radio station we are always tuned into ran an interview with Lynda LaPlante bringing back memories of my life in New Zealand.

The Library, a donation by Andrew Carnegie, stood on the corner at the other end of my street.  Reading has always occupied much of my spare moments, and when a busy Mum of five children I mastered the art of reading and peeling potatoes, at the same time.  OK, sometimes a little skin was left on the potatoes but I have it on good authority that the skin holds many vitamins.  It was not inattention that resulted in zebra-like potatoes, but my thirst for knowledge, or escape from potato peeling.

There was a time when I had read everything [I was interested in] book on those shelves.  The librarian, a woman half a decade younger than me suggested I read Lynda LaPlante.  Mmmmm ... I picked a couple off the shelf and read the blurb.  I put them back on the shelf.

Why?

For a start her name put me off ... quite a high faluting name, and her topics were of little interest.  I looked for other authors.

Sorry Lynda LaPlante, I misjudged you, though I still don't think I will read your writings ... I like a gentle escape from this world of seemingly [according to the media] increasing tensions.  But Lynda LaPlante, you are a delight.  Your hour on the radio was a hoot ... you have researched your topic to grass roots, and your sense of humour shone through. 

Is there a moral to this little tale?  Maybe, maybe not ... maybe never judge a book by its cover?  Or an author by her name!

Great Endeavour

James Cook, Captain of the Endeavour, mapped much of the coast of New Zealand in 1769 and in April 1770 his second in command sighted Australia.  Part of the east coast of Australia was mapped ... and as they say the rest is history.  Both New Zealand and Australia soon saw British settlers ~ New Zealand and Australia became part of the expanding British Empire.

Move forward to the present time.

In Fremantle, Western Australia a replica of the HMB endeavour was constructed and commenced her maiden voyage in October 1994. 

Yesterday HMB Endeavour was open for viewing at Geraldton, and in spite of a gloomy dank day we drove north to take a look-see [it was grocery buying day as well ... you know the old saying, killing two birds with the one stone].

The Geraldton port provided safe anchorage for the Endeavour replica for almost a week in weather was not typical of the mid-west of Australia.  While the Endeavour was open for viewing we did not board this ship which in its heyday of discovery and voyage in the south seas carried a crew of 72 plus animals.  At first glance this ship looks no larger than many of the fishing boats or pleasure craft anchored alongside.  To think that such a ship sailed from England to the South Pacific, discovering new lands and following the Transit of Venus!  In comparision with the luxury liner that called in at Geraldton two weeks earlier, and which was too large to anchor at the wharf, the Endeavour looked like a dinghy.  While the queue to board the ship was not that long, due no doubt to the weather, Dave is tall, and space in the Endeavour is 'limited'.  Photos taken in driving drizzle had to suffice.

As Captain Cook and the Endeavour played a huge part in the subsequent settlement of Australasia a look at the replica of the ship was an educational experience, giving a new slant at the deprivation of the sailors who crewed the original ship, though one must mention that due to James Cook's inspired knowledge the scourge of scurvy did not occur. 

Country on Show

Last Thursday we headed inland to Mingenew where the yearly two-day Expo was in full swing.  In other places this Expo could be classed as a country show, though in all fairness the Mingenew Expo concentrated on produce rather than side show entertainment.  My small indulgence was a packet of what Australians call Fairy Floss but what I have grown up knowing as Candy Floss  And yes, I did have sticky fingers, but hopefully managed to wipe my face completely clean of traces that clung around my mouth.  Delicious, but a once in a blue-moon treat!

 

The countryside is looking wonderful and the cropping farmers are looking towards a huge harvest of wheat, canola, and barley.  One paddock, back a little from the roadside, is already showing golden heads, while others had beards turning gold, almost like an old man with a beard of patchy grey but certain in the knowledge that the silver of maturity is just around the corner.

 

Mingenew is a typical country town of Western Australia; a main street that has a post office, a bakery, a small supermarket that sells not only groceries, but magazines, newspapers, books, and fruit and vegetables.  Two or three blocks of streets run back from the main street on one side, while across the road from the 'shopping centre' a parking area for cars, trucks, and caravans act as a barrier from the railway track.  A very small industrial area lies across the line.

 

Each year the sports grounds are utilised as the Expo venue, transforming football grounds, cricket pitches, and the race track into a huge showcase for  produce and machinery.  Spraying and harvesting machinery tower above the human population effectively resembling a monstrous machine from an alien planet dominating the landscape.  Small children, and older males clamber over these farming equipment; the children in wonderment and the older males no doubt wondering if the bank would see its way clear to finance one of these essential-to-the-croppers business machines.

 

Pens of sheep and alpacas capture the attention of all ... merino sheep with wrinkly faces and horns stood next to the dorper whose 'fleece' doesn't need shearing, but instead falls off leaving a coat that looks all the world like hair ... the owner had a sample of the fleece that I was encouraged to feel ... not at all like the wool that I knit into cardigans!  The dorper sheep are breed for their carcass, not fleece.

Alpacas

Dorpers

 Wrinkly faced Merino

A row of small open tents showed a variety of goods ... leather belts, sun hats, jewellery, garden ornaments, a children's farmyard zoo where children were offered the treat of feeding the animals.  One white and tan goat had down to a fine art how to manage to get a taste of all food on offer! 

 

There were caravans to look through, not as luxurious, but able to go off the tarseal, camper trailers, delightful outdoor furniture [one outdoor bench had space to store cushions etc in inclement weather], political parties politicised, insurance companies made dubious promises, farm agents and land agents sat in their space drinking tea chatting clearly delighting in their day at the Expo, and a little train gave rides to young and old alike.

 

My favourite place was the big tent that had stalls within.  I bought some Salvation Jane honey, the nearest I can find in Australia to New Zealand clover honey which is my all time favourite.  There were wine stalls, a barber cutting hair, the CWA stall where I purchased a slab of diabetic fruit cake and it is every bit as scrumptious as the non-diabetic type with the added bonus of being healthier!  Schools vied with each other for the attention of Outback parents whose children need to go to the city to boarding school to finish their education, while Morawa Agriculture College had an excellent display of metal work completed by their students.

 

The Mingenew Expo has something for townies and country folk and each year I discover a new exhibit.

 

The day wound up with an unexpected surprise.  Once home a coffee was essential!  I was sitting quietly in my chair when an unusual noise attracted my attention.  I crept to the door, and there I found a blue tongue lizard trying to extract the last dregs from a beer can! 

An alcoholic in the making?

Dave filled a plate with water ... we truly do not want an alcoholic lizard around the place!

Strawberries

Delicious, lucsious, new season strawberries are now in the supermarkets and on sale at the markets.  No matter what time of year strawberries are a treat, but the first of the season seem to be sweeter and tastier.

Last weekend I picked up a punnet of strawberries grown in a market garden in the northern suburbs of Perth with no clear idea of how I would present them.  Further along the aisles a jam roll pushed its cheeky nose towards my shopping basket, its jammy smile enticing me to buy.  Mmmmm ... jam roll and strawberries.  I could hear a trifle calling.  Next stop, the dairy for a packet of whipping cream and with its inclusion I had all the ingredients for a trifle [custard out of a packet ... cheaper, and just as tasty as home made, and certainly one less messy pot to wash ... is always in the pantry].  That trifle lasted three dinners, though had we not 'partaken' of some for an early morning tea on Sunday, it may have lasted four.  However, if one is to be decadent, we might as well go the whole hog!

As I washed the cut glass dish, essential for a trifle, strange thoughts flitted in and out of my mind.

Puddings!  Puddings that I ate as a child; those puddings today would be considered uninteresting, boring even, but to small children of the 50's they were puddings fit for a king; nourishing and full of energy filling goodness.

My favourite was macaroni custard, which consisted of cooked [al dente] macaroni tubes added to a good pint of milk into which two eggs were added, and small dollops of butter placed on top.  The butter helped to form a brown skin that was eagerly fought over by my brother and I.  Rice pudding, made in a similar way somehow didn't rate as highly.

Then there was apple pie, the one that my Aunty Clarice perfected.  The shortcrust was delectable ... oh dear, my mouth is watering at the thought!  When it came my turn to be cook to my own family I preferred its simpler cousin, apple crumble.  No shortcrust to roll out as with a large family time was of the essence.  I used to add a sprinkle of nutmeg, or cinnamon to the apples.

There were chocolate steamed puddings, golden syrup dumplings that were guaranteed to add inches to the waistline.  Back in those days we simply worked the extra calories [that we had never heard of] off.  There was a quick, but very scrumptious and ever so easy to make, pineapple upside down pudding made in the frying pan.  Its cooking time was usually as long as it took to eat the main course.

Today families seldom eat puddings.  What a shame!  Spotted dick, jam roly poly, or apple roly poly, coconut tart, all made regular appearances on the dinner table.  In summer when fruit was available from the garden we had rhubarb crumble, or a favourite with my youngest son when just a toddler, stewed rhubarb set in a raspberry jelly; or gooseberries and custard, plums and custard, or any in-season fruit and custard. 

At Christmas my Mum always made a plum pudding, boiling it for what seemed forever, and sometimes a brandy sauce as a special addition. 

That simply made trifle brought back so many memories of meals that were all home cooked from home-grown produce.