Under a hotter Sun; Slap on a hat;

Slap on a hat;

Sunhats are a fashionable summer essential. We had lots of them, wore them and lost them. It is a condemned item like umbrellas; doomed to be left on counters in stores on chairs in cafes were they are snatched as soon as you turn away. There was a lot of interchanging hats taking place in the Northern Rivers area.
Peter had funny bowl shaped hats with a broad soft rim made of blue or white terry towelling. The white ones took on soon an unidentifiable colour. They had to be washed often and got in the process softer and softer. He liked his hat best this way. The hat was used to dry his sweaty brow, to swat at flies that are persistent in crawling up your nose and all over your face. Walk down the paddock and the blasted flies follow in a cloud settling piggyback on you.
He also owned a beautiful, Spanish felt hat. The sales assistant at McKelly’s, carefully swiping the rim with his elbow, said:" Yes sir this hat will keep the sun away!" And this it did just fine. The rain was not mentioned because the rain wouldn’t justify its expensive price tag. Peter wore this hat when he went into town, the sale yard or shopping. It looked good on him, as he is a tall man.Wearing this hat he was fully accepted into the clan of graziers.
At first he owned a high felt hat a la Americana, cowboy style, it had this aura of the far Wild West. He got a lot of comments when he wore it. As hats are such an essential item here everybody wears them it is natural that a hat that cries out to be seen collects a lot of interest. In the end it was lost, stolen, not directly from his head but behind his back at the October fest in Grafton. Somebody must have wanted this hat badly enough to snatch it. Well, no wonder, it was an item much talked about. He lost it and found it never again.
The girls and I were addicted to sunhats. In any store we were torn towards the hatstand.
Not even the untidy heaps on shelves kept us away. We followed the trend, dipping into the depths, rummaging trying on discarding and start the game anew until the sales lady with murder in her eyes asked us if we intended to buy. The girls mainly bought caps, red, blue, yellow, Hang ten and Gotcha! I went for the creations that were coveted for a while. Then they were used for mundane things like work in the garden and at the same time as bowls to hold tomatoes in lieu of something better at the moment. This treatment left them a bit undone so it was not a big tragedy when they got lost.
The exquisite, white or soft yellow hats, their rims decorated with flying ribbons and blowsy old roses. The ones destined to be worn for afternoon tea in the vicars garden.
They were as impractical as they were beautiful. Endless times I chased after them in not a lady like manner. The lightest breeze found them an easy target. With time I too had to settle for bowl shaped, funny cotton hats and yes they had also more than one purpose. All I was allowed now were mere yearning glances towards the creations.
Marie-Louise and Lilli could wear any hat, cap or an old stocking on their head and they looked stunning. Not so Jacky and I. We needed the creations. Jacky bought in Tenerife a huge, really huge huge Mexican hat. It fell over her ears; generously it nearly covered all of her. It was not thoroughly successful there were certain problems with stability and balance. In the end it blew away too and was never seen again.
　
　
Copyright T.S.

Photo T.S.　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　
　

　

Under a hotter Sun; Kaneki

While I gathered the warm, dry grass to mulch the garden beds, the music of Beethoven’s sixth Sinfonie from within the house wakened my senses already seduced by the sweet smell of the sun-dried hay. I felt this serenity transcend, a brief glimpse of sheer happiness.

This music composed to the core of the European landscape impressed itself, moulded its sounds in harmony to the Australian land.

Kaneki, an aboriginal word for yellow crested Cockatoo, was sitting on the highest branch of a Bloodwood tree. He cocked his head and looked down, gave an approving squawk, shook his pristine white plumage and settled back to his afternoon nap.
We rescued Kaneki from a life in a tiny cage in a dark corner of a hardware shop in Maclean. He was sitting in his cage teased by children with little sticks while we were shopping there. We thought this beautiful bird looked so infinitely sad. We asked the shopkeeper how much he wanted for the bird. He said how much do you want to pay.

We said we could pay ten Dollars and he said done. We thought that he was probably glad to get rid of him. Anyway we were happy to take him home and give him a better life. He didn’t even have a name so we gave him the name Kaneki.
He settled quickly at our place.

At first, Peter made him a long ladder up to the Bloodwood tree. First he had a chain but when he was accustomed to this area we took the chain away. In the morning we took him out of his cage and let him go up the ladder on the tree. All day he was sitting on his tree throwing down leaves and small twigs. In the evening we would call up to him, Kaneki come down, we actually said it in Swiss dialect “chum aba” to him. First he would bombard us in disgust with leaves and twigs but in the end he always came down into the cage to spend the night. Flocks of yellow crested cockatoos would come and visit him. They settled on the tree like big white flowers. Kaneki never flew away with them. Until it happened that he met this really nice looking cockatoo lady. She visited him on his tree and sometimes he flew away with her but he always came back. But then after the marriage his absence from the Bloodwood tree grew longer and longer.

When we saw a flock of cockatoos flying above our garden we would always sing out his name Kaneki. Sometimes he would quickly settle on the Bloodwood tree, but with time he forgot his tree and he forgot us.

Copyright T.S.

Photo T.S.

Under a hotter Sun; A diamond studded sky;

I like to stand in the darkness and gaze up into infinity, the stars so close I think I can touch them.
A velvety blackness dripping with silver fills the Southlands night sky. It spreads its glittering imperiousness to state its eternity. The stars enigmatic, following unwavering their path light years away, tiny scintillating dots which we will never reach. Also we try very hard to reach the silver. The moon sits in his corner tonight blown up, a smile on his benevolent face. They from down there have visited him. It was not very pleasant. They think they have achieved a lot, he very slightly sways let’s a fleecy cloud hide his smile; the radiance of the stars bathes the surroundings with a soft glow.

I look for the familiar Southern Cross; it tells me that I am here in this Southland walking on my head. The stars look rather small but the two brilliant pointers show the way to find it. The inky sky shows a very pronounced Milky Way like a silver ribbon.. The stars glitter and wink until they are all surrounded and lost in a crowd of sparkling constellations.
I have never seen a sky like that. It is one of the wonders, balsam that buries deep into one’s soul. It is a feeling profound and arch primal.
The next morning all is back to normal. The magic of the night sky hidden away. The sun, gold and silver, once more blazing and fiery.

The Christmas days have past. I am glad I can put it aside.
The days of the eventful 1974 that has brought so much change in our lives are waning. Peter and I are very positive and optimistic about our altered lifestyle and hope that we all will be happy and fulfilled in our new endeavours.
The whole process is still so new and raw. Everyday is packed with something new to learn and to absorb. The children take it in their stride which is fantastic. My brain works non stop to counter the challenge and to miss nothing. I am not yet relaxed in my everyday life. Peter seems quite relaxed. I think he is the first time really happy. He really loves the land and loves what he is doing, free and not bound by the everyday trudge of going to work, returning tired and not very inspired in the evening. He is 42 and I think he is one of the lucky ones to be able to change his workload. Normally he is not a relaxed person he is very highly strung and has a temper when things don't work out.

In February the children are starting at their new schools. Marie-Louise will start first form at Maclean High school. For her it will be really a challenge. I know she will cope she is a very clever girl. She is such a small, slim girl for her age.
Jacky and Lilli will be pupils at Tyndale Primary which is a one teacher school with pupils from 5 years to 12 years of age. There will be only about two handfuls of students. I hope they are OK. They are not scared, very optimistic and looking forward to their new schools. I am glad about this it makes it much easier.
Norma was very kind and told me all about the school clothes they would need, as they all wear school uniforms in Australia. Marie-Louise would need a tartan dress and white blouses, white socks, black shoes and for the cooler time of the Year a dark
green jacket or Jumper, all the clothes were available at McKelly's in Maclean. Norma offered to take me there and show me the ropes. Marie-Louise also needed a skirt and bloomers for PE short for physical education. These items were not available as finished products. I had to sew them myself. I bought the material and I went up to Norma to sew these garments on her sewing machine, as mine had not yet arrived.

For Jacky and Lilli I didn't have to buy a uniform. The teacher, Mr.McCann, advised against it. He said:" This small school will soon be closed and then Jacky and Lilli will have to go to Maclean's schools. It is not worthwhile to spend all this money for such a short time, as they would need different uniforms. This suited me and the girls didn't mind as they were anyway not used to wear uniforms.
By now we are also eager to get started with the building of our new home and we also need a Garage and a shed for the farm machinery.
The road we are using now is also in a bad shape with deep holes washed out by heavy rainstorms. It will be better to build a new road in a gentler curving way it will be less prone to be washed out by heavy rainfall, instead like the old road which went in one straight line down the hill.

The new Year will be busy until everything is settled.

A tiny, new arrival arrived at our place as well and made its way into our hearts. Jacky received a tabby kitten whose mother was not able to look after it anymore. It is a Manx cat where his tail should be is only a little flap. His mother was a Manx. I had never seen one. Reg brought it over and Tommy, the name Jacky gave him, started his life with us.

We also got Purscht from the dog pound. He was a beautiful looking cattle dog, but absolutely useless with the cattle. He would just run uselessly around and try to snap after every bird that flew past him. I don't know what happened to him that he had such an erratic behaviour. At the same time we also got Boy a cattle dog pup. A cute and very, very friendly dog. He should be trained as a cattle dog, but I doubt it that Peter will be able to do that, he has not enough patience to do that sort of thing.

Under a hotter Sun; Summer means Summer;

Christmas is just a around the corner and here it appears just at the beginning of summer. It has sneaked up on me without warning. I have not bought any presents for the children and we don't have a Christmas tree either. I am so occupied with all what is happening now and it doesn't feel like Christmas anyway. The children don't say anything about presents and a Christmas tree. They seem not to miss it either or am I kidding myself and they are just not telling me. I do feel guilty for not providing the customary Christmas treats this year. In the shops are kind of strange Christmas decorations with colourful balloons hanging from artificial greenery. Everywhere Christmas tunes are played.
The sad thing is it does not feel like Christmas at all. I think I am homesick and I feel sorry for myself, which is the worst because it won’t help me feel better. Perhaps I feel like this because we have not yet a proper home. I have to shake myself out of this situation, I feel so lost in all this newness.

“Our "next-door" neighbours Norman and Norma and their four children have come by and invited us for Christmas lunch.
We drive to their homestead which stands on the highest point of their property. One of the children has to get out and open and close a few gates before we arrive on top of the hill.
Norma and Norman are a very nice family. Very straight forward and no frills. They and their ancestors have always lived and worked in this region. They have lots of relatives and know practically everybody around. They have two girls and two boys. The boys, are about the same age as our girls. The girls a few years older. They live in a old, cosy "Queenslander" what the traditional houses are called here. I am impressed by a big Figtree loaded with fruits just at the entrance of the house. My mouth waters just by looking at this tree. Norma said help yourself, yes thank you very much I will.
Norma and her two girls, 17 and 15 have prepared and cooked a beautiful Christmas lunch. The kitchen is very nice, decorated with many small porcelain figurines. The table was already set with her best china. We ate roast and grilled chicken and vegetables, lots of cups of tea to wash it all down. Dessert was an elaborate concoction called a "trifle" which is a bit a misnomer for this dessert. It was served individually in neat, small porcelain bowls. On the bottom a layer of cake saturated with brandy, colourful green and red, Christmas colours, Jelly cubes and to top it up a silky vanilla custard with some candied fruits. It was in a way what I knew as creme diplomat. Norma had also made Christmas treats like Coconut Ice in different colours which is a popular sweet. The rumballs also very scrumptious did not find approval with Jacky. I saw her taking it out of her mouth and throwing it out of the window behind her. Back home I reprimanded her for behaving not properly. Jacky cheerfully replied, it was Mrs. Connors idea, she said if you don't like it throw it out to the dogs. There were a few cattle dogs congregating before the kitchen to wait for the odd morsel. In the late afternoon, after sitting together comfortably and chatting, trying on both parts to make sense of what we were saying, we said goodbye and thanked them for their hospitality.

Summer has settled on us....the sun an awesome white-hot sphere simmers everything in its reach spreading an opalescent haze. Already the morning heats up with astonishing speed. By midday the heat puddles like lava over everything. Birds and animals are hiding in the deepest shady spots, bodies relaxed and silent.

Summer brings orchestras of cicadas lashing their music to every tree. With a mighty force they sing relentless day and night. The bush reverberates within their sound, tempo, forte always crescendo.

Summer brings hordes of insects. Ants and more ants, tiny ones, jumping ones, black and green iridescent, and more, all are armed with vicious little pincers ready to attack at the least disturbance. Some bunch and glue together leaves on tree and shrub branches. Unexpectedly I come into contact with their nest and disturb them the slightest bit they will drop on me attack like furies and bite me wherever they can.

The jumping ants are about one centimetre long they live under leave litter and are quite happy living there as long as I don’t come into contact with their pursuits. They are very quick jumping and burying their pincers into my skin, this protective action, leaves me to nurse a painful bite for quite a while. I am rather an expert by now I have experienced their defences often enough when innocently coming into contact with their dwelling and it is always I who runs.
The tiny red and black ones invaded my dwelling and I declared war on them that was not at all in perspective with these tiny marauders. But, as the saying goes “all is fair in love and war.” They made my kitchen their own; they glean any morsel they can carry, sometimes double their size pushing and shoving they march in single file into their one hundred and one hiding places. I tried my heaviest ammunition they are always back.

I saw them busily like a red train, nothing stands in their way, and they overcome any hurdle, with tiny feet hurry along my kitchen bench. I followed their train; it went into a bookcase their nest hidden in our music. They chose Mendelssohn’s a Midsummer Nights Dream. Naturally in my war mood they got short thrift and their dream home destroyed.

Copyright T.S.

Under a hotter Sun; Who likes spiders?

Summer is the time of life for spiders. I have no arachnophobia. Yet one day I was really scared. I was picking the last beans bending over the rows when I suddenly spotted something unfamiliar. I had heard horror stories about them but never actually seen them until now. Hiding between the green beans I was just about to pick was a whole cluster of “red backs.” Shiny black with its red stripe, nature’s warning, keep off. They are very dangerous, their bite means death without antidote. It is uncanny the shock you get by nearly touching them. I fled the rows of beans ignoring bowl and spilled vegetables where I threw them in my hasty get away. I had Peter destroy the cluster. I was cautious in the veggie patch aware there could be more yet with time my encounter with the "Red backs" went into oblivion. Later we found some in our garage and also in a part of the ornamental garden were I was working. We thought they were brought with tiles, bricks and wood.

The next encounter with “Red backs” was in a small ornamental border near the entrance gate. The border was a riot of seeding weeds and it was time to get rid of the weeds and plant some native grasses and small bushes. Some time before, at an earlier attempt to clean this area I had spotted a cluster of “Red backs” between the tangled vegetation. That was the reason why I was not keen to go in back there to clean it up. Since then some time had elapsed and the fear of the “Red backs” had receded and was not centred in my mind anymore. I had all my implements ready, small trowel, secateurs, and my wheelbarrow to fill with the discarded plants and weeds, only my gardening gloves were missing and I was to lazy to go back to the house to fetch them. I was tearing out armful of weeds and dead plants, pruning others to give them a new lease of life, when I suddenly felt a tiny prick on my finger. One look at my finger showed a small white moon and two tiny holes. At the same time my whole hand started to throb and really hurt. I nursed my hand and my first thought was has a “red back” bitten me? Frantically I looked for signs of “red backs” where I just had weeded. I didn’t find any. My hand was still hurting a lot and there was also a light swelling. Then I thought has a snake bitten me? There were always plenty of red-bellied black snakes or whip snakes whose bite could also be potentially dangerous. By now I was really scared, as Peter was not around the house he was on his tractor slashing the grass on the property somewhere. No way of calling him. The next neighbours were miles away and the girls were at school. I went into the house and plunged my hand under the water, then took some ice from the freezer and bandaged the ice around my hand. I knew if a dangerous snake or spider bit me, I would have to drive myself to Maclean hospital that was about 30 kilometres from our place. I was also looking for the little book we kept that told how the body reacted to different poisons. While I was making all sorts of plans, at this time we didn’t have a phone, so I couldn’t ring anybody and ask. While all this was happening in my mind I surprisingly felt that my hand didn’t throb anymore. I peeled it from its icy bandage, the pain had subsided and my breathing was normal again. There were still the two tiny pinpricks.
A white spider or other spiders I have made connections with might have bitten me.
Numerous spiders, ants or the native wasps have nipped me but luckily never real harm was done.
My first encounter with one big spider, a huntsman, which I didn’t know at the time, I will never forget, because everybody who was there said it was so funny. When at the time it was not funny at all because I was so scared. I was so scared I had my pants literally around my ankles.
We were all together plus a few helping hands up at the new stockyard where we had some cattle for inspection. I was standing innocently on the road near the stockyard
Looking over to the men and the girls handling some calves. When suddenly this immense Spider, probably disturbed, ran over the road directly towards me up my boots under my jeans. I have never in my life taken off my pants so quickly. The men inclusive Peter and the girls were laughing their heads off seeing me their in my underpants, contorting and searching frantically for the spider which I didn’t find. My replies were not friendly towards the bunch of laughing faces.
In Summer Daddy Long Legs live with us in our home. They sit in their tangled, fine retreats waiting for their food. Under their webs lays always the detritus of their meals waiting to be swept up. They are no harm whatsoever to humans but can easily kill a Red back or Huntsman spider.
The Huntsman spiders live with us in the house.. We always call them Charlie. A big one can be greater than a hand span. They live behind Furniture, scurrying upside down on walls and ceilings from room to room. We leave them alone, they have never harmed us.
In the garden the distinct spindle shaped egg sacs of the Magnificent spider hang like Christmas decorations from branches of shrubs and trees. The spider itself is rarely seen it hides his jewelled body well. This spider and his spindles are very special to me like a present from nature. There are many more spiders in my garden that I covet and admire.
The golden Orb-weaver spins her huge, untidy structures across trees and bushes and over pathways where I am caught many times with the sticky web in my hair. Her fat, striped body with long legs in golden stockings waits usually in the middle of her golden, silky trap. She also employs an array of her children that also lay in waiting for the poor victims that are not aware that not all is gold that glitters.
Early in the morning the webs sparkle with myriads of tiny drops of moisture, like intricate crocheted doilies hung out to dry between the branches of shrubs.

Copyright T.S.

Photos T.S.

Under a hotter Sun; Taffy alias Davey;

Taffy;
We didn’t understand much about horses and agreed with his suggestions. It didn’t take long and a horse and a saddle were delivered to us. Les told us the name of the horse and we understood something like Taffy that was then unfamiliar to us so we called him Davey.
This was the day when Taffy alias Davey started his life with us on “Little Gem”, and we were quite unaware what tricks he would be able to play on us. He was a lovely horse who knew its own mind. The girls had already had some riding lessons that they had received from Boyd a retired stock man and horse trainer. Marie-Louise took charge of Davey and his saddle. With lots of care and love he was pampered and brushed. His hooves that had grown long were cut and polished with oil. Poor Davey hadn’t had so much attention for a long time.
When she wanted to go riding Davey had to be bribed with a blue bucket containing oats.

When he saw the blue bucket he forgot to run away and then could be saddled.
Sometimes she would come home walking, yelling and swearing because Davey had wandered off and left her stranded far out on the property.
He was a good stock horse when mustering the cattle he knew all he had to do, when he was in the mood. I think he knew when he first saw us that we were suckers, he owned us and let us pretty well know the situation.

When he arrived he was left in a small paddock to get acclimatised. Four railings closed of the paddock. It didn’t take long and Davey had opened all the railings and was proudly emerging and wandering off.
We took him back in his paddock and closed the railing. Each railing was also tied with a string. In the night I saw suddenly a huge black shape going past the bedroom window. I was flabbergasted what was out there? I wakened Peter and told him to have a look outside. Davey was gently grazing and munching on the short grass outside our bedroom window. Davey had opened the strings and the railings and made again an escape. We were really hard thinking about naming him Houdini. Later we watched him how nimbly he was able to use his lips to open gates and railings and even knots in strings.

He really liked to eat the heads of thistles. Those heads are so prickly one can hardly hold them with ones fingers. Davey would gently nip them from their stems and then slowly turn them around in his mouth until softened and ready to be chewed and swallowed. He also liked the small figs that grew on a giant Morton Bay Fig tree. He especially loved them when they were already fermenting. When he had eaten his full he acted very strangely. He galloped around, threw his hind legs high up, whinnied and snorted, behaved completely out of context as he was usually a quiet, friendly horse.

We bought a small rowing boat named “Kmisitsch”, as it was said that it was bad luck to leave even the smallest of boats unnamed. It was generally left down by the river. Out of no particular reason Marie-Louise thought of bringing it up to the shed. She fastened the boat with a rope to Davey’s saddle. She jumped into the saddle and Davey went ahead and pulled the boat. For a while this went quite well. As the boat tumbled over stones and gave up tinny sounds the horse got agitated and tried to look back what was actually following him.
They came to the upper paddock where Marie-Louise had to leave the saddle to go and open the railings to get through. I was in the kitchen and suddenly heard this tremendous noise, crashing and splintering of wood. I ran fast out onto the veranda to see what happened. I just saw Davey jumping over the railings the boat still attached to him crashed into the railings the anchor flew over his head and landed in the soft turf. The impact of the crush released the rope attached to the saddle and Davey took off as fast as he could run. Since then whenever he saw the tinnie, Davey took great precautions not to come in any way in contact with it again.
I have never been on a horseback. Marie-Louise said:" come on mum" and saddled the horse for me to go riding. I was out of my depth I knew nothing about horses, they scare me. I just knew the front from the back of a horse.
To my amazement I liked to be carried in a rhythmic, slow trot over the property. I had a good view from the saddle and could go near the cattle without them being frightened. There was just one small problem. Davey always took me half way down to the river and then he turned around. No persuasion what so ever made him go further. After a few minutes hesitation he took me straight back home. My horse riding skills were absolute useless. When mustering cattle I was usually send far away from the action.

Under a hotter Sun; The River;

The River
Dark and secret, it flows slowly past our western boundary. It is a big attraction for the girls and I. We swim in it on hot summer days. So we are always a bit apprehensive what sort of creatures are hiding in the deep, especially when we heard rumours there were sometimes sharks coming up from the Clarence into this sidearm. As it was so dark, very warm and caressing it was just like it was thicker than normal water, odd! When one of the waterbirds suddenly came up from the deep and its head just popped over the surface, we would squeal and shout, a snake! The girls dived deep down to the riverbed and said it was all rocky. I didn’t dare to dive but I went swimming and I was always a little scared. I must have had an absurd look on my face, delight because it was bliss to bathe in this natural Jacuzzi and trepidation from the unknown creatures waiting to grab me. There was always a plop from a turtle or a water dragon that rushed back into the water. Sometimes a real snake would swim past and we all swam fast and scrambled quickly to the safe shore.

The girls have caught a huge catfish. Peter said shall we cook it for lunch? We were all sitting in the small gangway veranda around the electric frying pan watching this big fish sizzling. It was raining buckets, like all the heavens had opened their sluice gates. The rain came down in glistening sheets I had never seen it rain like this. It was hot and humid and very comforting and satisfying to hear the water splashing and drumming on the tin roof of the house. The fish was by now swimming in its own fat. It didn't look very appetising. It took a while until this big fish was cooked. When we gingerly tried it, it smelled a tad of mud and was a bit tough, stringy and full of bones.. Each of us ate just a little bit. We heard a car arrive it was Leslie a very nice man who owned this farm before us. He asked are you eating a catfish, because he spotted the whiskery remains quickly.
I said yes and it is not as good as people let us believe it would be. He was amused and said that we cooked the wrong catfish. There is a catfish that is very palatable. I am sure when he told the story at home they had a good laugh. Leslie came by because he had heard through the grapevine, again, that we were looking for a quiet
stock horse for the girls to ride. He said he knew a nice, quiet horse for sale with a saddle. We trusted him and agreed to buy his stock horse by the name of "Taffy".

Copyright T.S..

Photos T.S.

Under a hotter Sun; The big clean up;

The bulls;

The big clean up.

The grassland around the home paddock looked messy, strewn with discarded roof iron sheets, bricks, broken tools, wooden, broken carts, rusted cars with and without wheels, many old water tanks with rust holes in them lots and lots of sherry flagons who probably kept a few of the McPhee ancestors happy. Tangled fencing material and fallen trees brought by we don't know how many previous floods ago. Peter had to call a bulldozer to make a few big holes in the ground to bury everything.

Peter had already bought a tractor, bright orange, his toy, and a slasher to cut the old grasses.
The Rep., Gary was his name, came many times until Peter had bought all the machinery he needed. He would always stay near the window, look out into the countryside and say:" Lovely view, nice cup of tea. My wife she is a funny lady, a funny lady, nice cup of tea. These sentences he repeated many times but we have never found out why his wife was a funny lady, so he drank his cups of tea!

Peter went down to the river where the grass and weeds were man high to clean up a field to make it ready to sow new grasses. The good news about floods is that they deposit silt and this makes the very sought after alluvial soils on river banks.
Peter and the tractor were hidden in the tall vegetation. From time to time when the
front wheels hit a hidden object the tractor would rear up like an angry beast! He had to drive very, very slowly not to cause an accident. One other field also along the river was already planted with corn. It looked a bit bedraggled but it would be harvested later on. The mending of fences would take a long time and contractors were already scheduled in the new year to come to dig the post holes and help in general. The wooden posts are very heavy and most of them had to be replaced. All the fences were in a sorry state.

A new stockyard had to be build for the cattle to be checked and for treatment and as well for loading and unloading. So there was very much activity going on little Gem. People from around the area liked to come and have a look what was going on. They always asked have you got money from Switzerland. They thought we had this Swiss bank account which would spew out the money when ever we needed or wanted some. This sort of arrangement would have been nice.

A part of the riverbank is badly overgrown with huge weeds and a lot of bamboo. So Peter thinks the fastest way to clean this up would be to burn it. As soon as the fire was lit, we got scared, it burnt with lightening speed and the bamboo started to explode. It sounded like a very, very noisy Chinese New Year fireworks. We tried to stem the fire with buckets of water....we got very hot, dirty and tired, until the flames were brought under control. Next time we have to be more careful.

Under a hotter Sun; Buying the herd;

Buying the herd;

Summer was well on its way.
We had the property and were very keen to buy a herd of cattle before Christmas.
This was the holiday season and it would bring a halt to our endeavours until the end of January if we didn’t hurry and buy the cattle now.
Our Stock and Station Agent rang that he would pick us up on Monday morning at seven a.m. to go out to Jackadgery to select the cattle. He had to leave his message at the milk bar and take-away shop of Hazel and Alex, as we were not yet connected to the Telephone.
We were ready at the appropriate time when Ross and Ray arrived in a Ford Vehicle
and picked us up.
It would be a long drive and the morning promised a hot day.
After about one and a half hours drive mainly through heavily timbered bush, Ross stopped the car at a pleasant place near a fast flowing small River. He rummaged in his boot to come out with a big Esky filled with sandwiches neatly stashed in a plastic box and Thermos flasks of tea. . Peter and I hadn’t eaten breakfast as we were too exited, so the Sandwiches and tea were a welcome break. Soon we returned to the car and the trip continued.
Peter and I hadn’t been to this rather wild and densely forested hills. The bitumen road gave way to a dirt road. The car didn’t have air-conditioning so all the windows were down and clouds of red dust left a film on our moist skin. I was wearing a nice dress but it was not cotton so it was clinging like a second skin and itchy. The seat of the car didn’t help either as it was made of artificial leather that got hot as well. I tried discretely to scratch my burning skin and felt I was peeling myself as layers of red dust came away.
After another hour we arrived at Charlie Smith’s property where we were to choose our cattle. Most of the cattle were already in the stockyard. Ray and some helpers were ready on their horses to drive the ones we choose to a holding paddock until they could be transported to our place. We went to the stockyard to have a look at the cattle. They were nice animals.
The cows each had a calf at foot and were also pregnant. The cattle market was down and prices were low. That’s why Charlie had to sell his cows. We agreed to a price it was seventy-five Dollars a cow with the calf. Ross our agent said if we really wanted we could go lower. But Peter thought seventy-five Dollars for a cow with calf was pretty good and he said he didn’t want to put more pressure on the chap who had to sell his farm and his cattle. So everybody was happy and the selection began.

Peter was in his element choosing the cows while Ross and Ray with their longstanding experience was giving the nod of approval or not. It took quite a while until Peter had chosen the cows he wanted. He also chose a nice looking bull that he on the spot christened Willie. I would dearly have loved to know what the tough cattlemen thought about that. Their faces didn’t show any amusement just in their eyes was a little glint.
The rest of the cows were let out of the holding yard and while they were crowding out Peter saw one that he thought he had selected. He ran towards the cattle waving his arms in the air and shouting I want the dark brown one as well. This action frightened the herd so much they were running in all directions it was nearly a stampede. The cattle that live free in the bush are very shy and frightened towards people when not seated on a horse or in a car. Peter didn’t know this and the men had a good laugh at him.
After all the mustering was finished Charlie said to Peter that the Hereford cattle might not do as well in the lowlands as they do up in the hills. Peter said he was aware of this. Also Ross and other cattlemen told him it would be better to settle for Angus cattle. It was true the Herefords in the hills were healthy looking with a shiny red coat. Where we lived they didn’t look that great their fur was dull and shaggy. Peter loved the Herefords. He was going to find out what ailed them on the lowlands his scientific mind was ready to tackle a challenge.

The next day a cattle truck arrived with our herd. It was very exiting and we all went to the old dairy where the cattle were to be unloaded. We didn’t have yet build a stockyard so the truck was backed towards a small hill where the cows and calves could jump down from the truck. Willie the bull was last. He was reluctant to jump down. He had a reputation to maintain and it was not a very dignified sight the heavy bull jumping from the truck. In the end with a few probes with a stick into his backside from the truck driver he thought better of it and jumped. The cattle let out a cacophony of bellows and ear-splitting noise to orientate themselves and their calves. They were running everywhere especially up to the gate where they had entered on the truck. It was getting dark and Peter was afraid that they would jump the fence and get lost somewhere. The next day very early in the morning we went to look for them. We had not far to go they were all assembled at the old dairy like for a morning roll call. The cattle had forgotten their stress and settled down. Now we heard only the odd bah-bah of a calf looking for its mother. Willie was in the middle of his ladies looking proud and imposing.

One night in the first week when we had the cattle we were rudely woken up by loud knocks on the door and were taken from our dreams. I must say here that is was probably only about ten o clock. We went early to bed, as we were awfully tired in the evening, from doing all this outdoor work that we were not used to. We jumped out of bed and worried what had happened. The two Johnson brothers were standing outside the door and told us that some cows from us were in the river. Peter had to get the tractor, ropes and the torch that was unfortunately very low. It was very hard work to get the cows out of the water, especially at night under a lot of swearing on Peter’s side the Johnson Brothers didn’t swear, the cows were rescued. We thanked them for their help, as we could have lost those cattle.
The next morning Peter started to fence the river off so we wouldn’t have that mishap
again.

Copyright T.S.

Under a hotter Sun; The grazing property; The bush; Trees are happiness;

The grazing property
This was our first inspection of our new property. Everything was new and interesting. We were getting ready for a walk up to the densely vegetated bush. Peter had instructed us to be very careful of snakes and dangerous insects. We all wore two pairs of socks and high laced up boots. So we were soon ready, well shod and also each carried a wooden stick for our walk into the unknown. I didn’t really know what the stick was for, but I soon discovered the stick was very handy to keep cobwebs away, which kept attaching to my face in long sticky strands. We walked in single file, first Peter then the girls and I making up the tail. Peter was also instructing us to stamp with one foot from time to time to vibrate the ground to disperse any approaching snakes. There was so much to see and look that we forgot to stamp our feet. The heat was penetrating the thick growth and we were hot in our protective gear. There were different places; some were dense with vegetation. Others open, small glades with tall Eucalyptus trees. As we wandered on we came to an enchanted place. The sun barley penetrated the thicket. There was a dark secretive Billabong, a water hole, as we approached we heard several blob blobs and something disappearing into the dark water. Later we discovered that the blobs were turtles rushing into the water. There were also eastern water dragons running from us on long legs and plunging into the water. This time we were only exploring a small part on the eastern side of our property. We soon turned around, as it was very hot. We thought to come back at another time when it was cooler.
On the southern boundary was a canal with a floodgate that could be operated, as was necessary to let water flow in or out. Sometimes cattlemen from the next farm would throw in to the canal a dead cow or calf. We thought this was nasty and very unhygienic. Yet after a few days nothing of the cow was seen. We wondered why until we discovered huge, arm thick eels enjoying themselves. The eels were safe from us!
The girls became quickly familiar with the property. They were very inquisitive and went exploring by themselves. They found one place just full with pebbles and an underground water source. There was a little stream gurgling up from the underground. They digged there to search for gold but all they found was fools gold. They found stone tools used by aboriginal people. They left them where they found them they were not theirs to take.
We had a visitor who wanted to have a look over our property. He mounted his motorbike and was off in a flash before Peter could warn him about certain hazards to look out for. He was driving at high speed towards a drain probably about one meter deep.
We were shouting and waving our arms but he didn’t hear us above the noise of his motorbike and he couldn’t see us as he was driving away from us. We could only look
on what was happening. His motorbike dived into the drain he was thrown up into the air his arms outstretched then he made a salto and vanished too into the drain. We were stunned, we ran towards him but he was already crawling out of the drain shaking his head. Fortunately he didn’t come to any harm and relieved we laughed at his stunt ready for the circus.

Left the old dairy.

The bush

I gazed at this odd strip of wilderness hanging on to the eastern boundary of our grazing land. My eyes drilled to lush greens stared at this untidy mass of trees and scrub in their subtle dusty shades of blue –grey, olive green, above it the relentless blue sky dulls it all to a plain, stubborn stillness. I turned away with a sigh, oh well the real estate agent told us, that this part of the property, he called it the bush, was very valuable for the cattle to shelter from the extremes of nature which in time we would also experience. Shelter from sun or rain, in flood times as this ground was fairly high above the river and finally it also provided food.

Day in day out the grey green wall of vegetation mocked me, challenged me to come and look, to appreciate the difference, to observe the changes through the seasons. At this time of year it appeared hot, dry and thirsty. The leaves are hard and unyielding. Yet when my fingers crush the tough membranes they release a scent of peppermint or lemon their fragrance perfuming the air. The leaves rustle softly by the faintest touches of air whispering their secrets. Before I went to bed I looked through the kitchen window to the bush hidden in the shadows of darkness.

Trees are happiness
I made forays to discover the mysteries, the secrets, the hidden beauty of the Australian bush. I carry a small book with pictures to look up the names of Australian trees and plants from this region.
A grove of Eucalyptus trees was my first find. Spotted Gums, Scribbly Gums, their trunks go on forever scratching the clouds. The spotted Gums have beautiful colourful markings. The bark is very smooth under my fingers. It cracks and I can prise it open to reveal a new juvenile beginning as soft as silk of muted colours, pale mint, blue, grey and pink, dressed like this no wonder this tree reaches for the sky.
The scribbly Gum is like a relic from the past sporting up and down, around its trunk, stories written by tiny insects scratching, scratching day in day out for endless times. No one knows what they are writing about it will stay forever an enigma! The flowers are unique too, popping out of their casings revealing glistening white bristly stamens with gold overlaid. They are an important food source for myriads of insects, birds, bats and small animals.

A dead branch suddenly falls off, a widow-maker, crashes and shatters on the floor nearly hitting me. To my amazement a tiny creature, a pigmy Possum stunned and shocked by the sudden fall of its home, lands on my hand. I hold it gently, it takes not long and it is off quick as a flash. I think this is once in a lifetime to have the opportunity to hold one of these rare, very shy creatures.
In earlier times when timber men were working in the bush to cut down trees these sudden falling branches were called “widow-maker” by them, because many a times a man had lost his life that way and left his wife a widow.
Special favourites are the charming Acacias, also called Wattles, because they were used to build wattle and daub houses. There is one flowering for every month from bleached, pale yellow to golden sunshine. They stand out lightening up the countryside. Fluffy balls, mimosa scented, nestling or hanging in ropes from antic blue, ferny leaves showing their silvery undersides. Silver trees, Palace flowers, they stand out, lift up your spirits.

The Casuarinas or She-Oaks stand sentinel barley fluttering their dark, blue-green needle like foliage. Their branches loaded with stone hard, small cones holding seeds, which the black red-tailed cockatoos adore. Every day as long as they last they are feasting, screeching, flying from tree to tree to provide a wonderful spectacle.
The trunks of casuarinas are solidly carved objets d’art. They rival any man made sculpture. Under these trees nothing grows. The floor is thickly carpeted with its rust-brown needles.
Further away. Where the sun can get hold of the forest floor grow pockets of wildflowers.
Rice flowers their many miniscule florets forming a head. Hibbertias creeping along the floor, holding their yellow cup like flowers up to attract small black beetles searching for a meal.
Starlike, splendid blue Paroo- Lillis swaying on tall wiry stems ask to be picked.
Where the ground keeps moist I find small purple greenish ground orchids with nodding heads agreeing to anything. The bush is so alive yet when I look at it from my window it appears stern and unmoving, what a deception.
Paperbarks, their name a give away. The spongy bark clings in papery strips to the tree. Covering its attractive trunk and limbs in thick wads layer upon layer to protect the core of the tree from fire. This beautiful tree covered with its silvery, white flowers lets other trees gasp in frustration!
I could go on and on, one is more beautiful than the other; I just want to mention the Brachychitons with their tongue breaking pronunciation. Stately, tall trees with green bark, flower when there is not a leave in sight. It is not called for nothing Flame tree. Its fiery red bells hang in bundles from the branches smothering the whole canopy. Its sister has pink bells on silver grey limbs it is breathtakingly beautiful.
I want them all in my garden to worship their beauty to admire their sudden transformation; Australia’s trees its treasure.

Copyright T.S. 08

Photos T.s.

Under a hotter Sun; The old house; The burglary;

The Coldstream River;


We said goodbye to Reg, Ella and their family and moved for the time being into the old house.
Ted and Reg drove out to us and brought buckets and cleaning material to lend us a helping hand to clean up the worst. We thought how nice and generous it was of them; as they were themselves always busy and had a lot of work.

The burglary;
Sleeping the first night in the old house, we found out there were already some hidden residents. I woke up in the middle of the night. I was disorientated sleeping in a strange place. My heart was beating fast when I heard heavy thumps plunking on the wooden floor outside on a sleep out connected to our bedroom. I woke Peter and he heard the plunking too. We looked through the window yet did not see anybody outside. I whispered I think it’s a burglar. Peter whispered back, a burglar would not be so noisy. I whispered He might not know that somebody lives in the house. Peter opened slowly the door to the sleep out. Peter’s torch shone full on some very big, fat, grass green residents that jumped from an outside water tank into the sleep out that had its roof halfway torn away from a previous storm. They landed heavily on their bellies and than plodded along the wooden floor in search of insects. Relieved there was nothing to worry about we went back to bed. I dreamed of hundreds huge, green frogs tumble from the roof, jumping all over the bedroom and laughing at us!

The old house ;
The old house was situated not far from the river on a small knoll. It was an old Queenslander built on heavy stumps. It was badly neglected. Yet the timber walls, floors and ceilings were still in top condition. Nothing was rotten. It was a big house with a separate kitchen house that was connected via a small veranda. I liked it from the beginning. Peter had never liked timber homes and there was no negotiation about renovating and living in it. The option was only to live in it until our new brick home was built. We settled in to make it our home for the next six to eight month. In the house was also left some old junk or were they antiques? An old chest of drawers, an old cupboard filled with books and letters and stamps. I would have loved to go through all this but Peter in his haste was telling the owner to get rid of it and when we came back the next time all was gone. The last flood had come up into the house, one could see the rim on the walls where the water had reached and it also smelled very musty. We ripped out all the old carpets. Underneath were nice hardwood floors. We cleaned two bedrooms and the kitchen. The kitchen was in a sorry state, I cleaned and scrubbed and for the time being it had to do. Renovated it would have made a glorious kitchen with its soaring ceiling up to the roof and a small veranda in front. It still had a chimney with a wood-burning stove. When Peter cleaned out the stove he found a rats nest with tiny, new born inhabitants. He could not kill them as they were so utterly defenceless. He took them out and settled them behind a bush hoping their mother would find them.




On the veranda was also a makeshift toilet and shower, as the original bathroom which was also connected by a small covered gangway, by the look of it had not been in use for a long time. It still had an old claw foot bathtub but nothing else. Somebody with architectural flair and a knowledge of old Queenslanders could have made a splendid home. The only negative for me was that it stood on flood prone land .We were glad to have the shower. With the toilet we were not so lucky. It was not connected to a sewer system. So we had to use a bucket until this problem was solved.
There was so much rubbish around that we cleaned up. Jacky found an old rusty bucket under the house that was full to the rim. With her foot she stomped into it and found out that it was the bucket that stood under the toilet. We all had a good laugh and I said just as well she wore high gumboots.

The Veranda roof was torn away in a hefty storm; we thought the whole house would go!

When I moved into this old house that was build more than a 100 years ago I was thinking about the people whom had lived in the same house. It was said it was a prosperous family who owned the best dairy herd in the area that build this home.

When I was cooking or doing some chores in the kitchen the heavy door that always stood open, closed itself with a loud bang. I liked to think and we joked about it, that the ghost of an ancestor of the McPhee clan who lived in this house was hiding behind the door. We challenged him a few times but he just played his hide and seek game with us and never showed his face!
There was no garden left. Only a solitary old Camellia bush struggled for its life near the house. Two huge Camphor Laurel trees grew near the house. They were laden with exquisite, white perfumed flowers at the time. One of the trees had a beautiful, big Rock Orchid growing from a hollow. A brilliant green tree snake with a yellow belly had made her home under the orchid.

Cleaning up and....

more cleaning up!

Under a hotter Sun; We found and bought a property;

The next day he picked us up again to inspect a few more properties.
This property was also heavily timbered and very steep. The house was build of brick and new. Inside it was not finished. It looked all very neat and tidy. Nobody was at home. I felt sorry for this family. The new house was not yet finished and they already had to sell it. One could see that they cherished their home. This property was not viable it was to small to make a living.
We drove further and further, all through bushland. Then suddenly the road became stonier, narrower and steeper.

An old Queenslander came into view. An elderly lady came out to wait for us. The house was quite pretty in its patina. It hadn't see a paintbrush probably for ever. Its white paint was only a shimmer on the grey, silvery wood. Inside it needed a big, big renovation. The floorboards were broken and one could see the dirt floor underneath. The floorboards had also shrunk away from the wall so there was a big gap all around the room. It didn't seem to bother the people living there. That wouldn't matter to us either. We could live with the odd snake, lizard or spider making itself at home in our living room, if the grazing land is good!! Two sisters, getting on in years, living in the same house as their ancestors had.

Proudly they showed us their pump for their water supply for the house. The pump was located outside an old timber shed. We wanted to see the creek where the water came from. We had to walk to the creek. The creek, at the moment was very low, ran deep down between two steep embankments. In the creek was a dead cow. She must have been there for days as she was fairly blown up! We said no to this property. The water supply was not good enough. there was no town water and we would have to rely on that creek or on rain water both not enough reliable sources. "The girls" also put the price up as soon as they heard we were from Switzerland.

The next property Tom wanted to show us was out at Nymboida. It is a pretty place. Rural, with a beautiful, rather wild, fast flowing river with the same name. It would be a nice place to live and still not to far out from Grafton. The property was hilly grassland, interspersed with tall and stately Eucalyptus trees. Some of these huge trees had black, solid looking ants nests attached to their massive branches. The kookaburras use these as nesting place to rear their babies. We had to traverse the river and their was just a makeshift bridge. The last big flood, not that long ago had torn away the bridge. A new one had to be build. Actually, when we came nearer to the house we had to go over a second bridge which was also badly damaged and in real need to be replaced.
This was a bit a worry because without a bridge one isn't able to get out of the place.
The house was alright nearly new. There was nothing to speak of what one could call a garden. Outside was one of these old coppers which were used in earlier days to boil laundry items like big sheets, towels and underwear. Nearby was also a big wood pile. I don't know for what the copper was used. While we were talking with the owners, Peter and I, in the same instant saw a really huge, red belly Blacksnake slithering out from under the woodpile and quickly disappearing under the copper. No one else saw this little manoeuvre. We were so new and green, we had just enough, when we saw this huge snake. All we wanted was get going once more over those rickety bridges and arrive safely on the other side.
While Peter and I were looking at properties. the girls were "adopted" by Ella and Reg.
They had a very good time. Attached to the caravan park was also an animal sanctuary
sheltering Kangaroos, Wallabies and all sorts of birds. The girls were taught how to ride a horse, feed the animals. Reg had all three of them constantly in tow. They even taught him some Swiss words.

Around the park was a beautiful garden with flowering bushes and very tall Banana plants. I was amazed when I learned that the Banana is actually classified as a herb. Lilli saw this big hand of Bananas, beautiful yellow, nestling between the biggest leaves. She couldn’t belief that nobody took it down. When she showed the Banana bunch to Reg he cut it down for her and gave her the whole lot. Full of pride she brought it to us. The Bananas were the kind that are called “ladies finger“. It is a short fat banana but with a very special sweetness not at all like the normal bananas one could by in Switzerland.

Tom showed us one more place in South Grafton. It was a grazing property. It was beautiful, undulating with a view on the River. There was no house on it. It wouldn't be to far to go shopping and also very important not to far for the girls to catch the bus to their school. Peter and I liked the place. Back at the caravan park we talked to Reg about this place. He said he would come with us and have a look at it and tell us what he thinks of it.

The next day he took us out to Southgate and we showed him the property. He said it was very nice to look at, but we wouldn't be able to make a living with this property. He explained about the grasses that grew there. He said, look the soil is not good enough it is not fertile. The grass growing here is not nutritious enough for the cattle. It would be alright if there would be flats with good alluvial soil so you have both. We were a bit disappointed with his judgement but we listened to him and abandoned the thought of buying that property.

Reg said he had heard through the grapevine, that a good property on the lower Clarence comes on to the market for sale. It was the last big property to be sold in one lot on the lower Clarence. It was not yet official. He introduced us to Ray from Ross Alford Real Estate who was selling this property.
The next day, Ray picket us up at the caravan park and drove with us north towards Maclean to see this property. This time we stayed in the coastal area. After about 30 km he left the highway and drove into a small road that was not paved. The sign said Tucabia. There were not many houses. All farm- or grazing land. Some planted with corn or sugarcane. In between grassland with cattle grazing.

The property had fertilelow lying flats bordered by the Coldstream River. Gently undulating grassland and on top at the entrance scrub, bush and trees excellent as shelter for the animals and also high ground in time of floods. Ray himself, a grazier, told us what we had to look out for.
The old weatherboard house stood halfway between the river and the bush.
Peter liked this property straight away. I was not sure, to me everything looked fairly derelict, unkempt, not pretty. My fantasies were not fuelled by this place. It was a little bit like, this can’t be the place we want. We haven’t come all this way to buy something like this! I stood there bewildered, speechless, while Peter beamed and nodded enthusiastically to Ray’s explanations.
The next day Reg came with us to inspect it and gave his verdict. He said it was a very good place and if the prices were right we always could make a decent living. So, this was it then our dream place. After the decision was made to buy this place, it was like a bubble had burst, my woolly head cleared and I decided to stand with both legs firmly planted on the ground.

Under a hotter Sun; The Sunset Caravan Park; Settling in; The search begins for a property;

We move in to the Sunset Caravan Park
Neither of us had ever lived in a caravan or for that in a caravan Park. This would be a first and new experience that I did not fully appreciate at that moment as I was feeling like hit by a ton of bricks. I felt like a zombie transported and put down. I arrived tired, dirty, hungry and perhaps subconsciously homesick. Peter looked haggard from a sleepless night, his jaunty, little hat sinking over his forehead while juggling our suitcases from the huge boot of the taxi under advise of the driver who stood his feet apart looking at us like we were people he was not obliged to help with their luggage. Peter paid him and he left with a screech of his white-rimmed tyres.
We shoved our suitcases towards the entrance and a door with a sign that said “Reception”. We knocked and a tiny, white haired lady came out. We asked for a caravan for at least a week to hire. She looked us up and down and said that we could have it for one night and we would see about the next day, which meant in other words:" I have to check you out first. Fair enough. We paid and she showed us to a fairly big caravan. We were all hungry so after stashing our luggage in the caravan we went to look for a grocery store, There was no linen for the beds, no cushions no blankets. The first night was very cold. The days were already hot in November but the nights were still chilly, especially in a caravan. We covered us as well as possible with our clothes. The first morning when we got up early we appreciated the suns already warming rays. We walked along the road to a tiny shack that sold fresh bread and also some groceries. We bought fresh bread coffee and milk. Back at the caravan we had our first breakfast. It was so simple, but it tasted wonderful, sitting on the steps of the caravan in the early morning sun, munching fresh bread and sipping Nescafe what could one want more!!

Settling in;
We made our plans for the day. The first priority was to buy a car as we needed transport. We also needed blankets and cushions. We also had to go and see Tom Cronin a real estate man to whom we had written from Switzerland.
Reg, the owner of the caravan park, was also the hands on man. The tiny, grey haired lady was his mother Ella. Reg said we could ask him anything about good land and ask any questions we might have. He was also managing his small farm. He still had a few horses and he was growing vegetables, like beans and pumpkins. He was sort of taken with us and amazed that we came from Switzerland to settle in the Clarence Valley.

The next morning we walked , it was quite a long way, into the city of Grafton. It was lovely to wander along the avenues planted with the mauve flowered Jacarandas. The pathway was purple, carpeted with the fallen flowers, intricate small bells. It was like a fairyland. I was expecting a golden fairy sitting up on the Jacaranda tree waving her wand of purple bells.

Orchids, feathery ferns and massive stag-horns were growing on the trunks and nestling in the forks of branches.

As I am always interested in plants and gardens, I was looking into the front gardens we passed. There were fantastic climbers, huge yellow bells, called Allamanda.A fairly squat tree, with a broad canopy and ferny leaves was displaying the most brilliant red and gold flower bunches. I asked a person on the road what this tree was called. It is a Poinciana the lady said. Unfortunately, I didn’t have all day to study the gardens of Grafton we had a more pressing agenda.
We asked the real estate man at Moy and Darby what sort of cars real estate men drive. He replied they all drive Fords. Our thoughts were, if they all drive Ford cars, those cars must be good and reliable. So a Ford would do for us.
We went to the next big Garage, called Boland Ford. We were asked into the office. Soon we had bought a new, white Ford Falcon station wagon. We could pick it up in probably a weeks time. We explored the city of Grafton. We liked what we saw. The city sat in a haze of bluish mauve, quite breathtakingly beautiful. The streets were broad and generous, beautiful old buildings, lots of stores and the people were very friendly.
At McKelly's Store we bought the cushions and linen and blankets we needed for our beds. This store sold also ladies, men and children clothes. The store was just absolutely choker block full of merchandise. The clothes were fashionable of very good quality, boutique style, not what I expected.

There was a Woolworth grocery store and also some kind of a small department store. One store was called Gerard's. They sold kitchenware, crystal glasses, china to shoes and clothes for the whole family and they also served lunches and cafe and tea and milkshakes. It was very old fashioned, it looked like out of the fifties. The Restaurant was very basic furnished with Formica tables and chairs. We enjoyed the milkshakes, fish and chips. "Andere Laender andere Sitten."
The most alluring of Grafton was its many wonderful trees and the great sweep of the Clarence called the Big River passing the city. There were also many parks well maintained with flowering trees, shrubs, perennial and annual bedding plants. I saw a a few very nice boutiques, like “Vienna Style” or “Audeens”. It looked like a prosperous country town. It was also said that it was one of the most beautiful country towns, well looked after with its great avenues and the mighty Clarence River.
After settling in and making a kind of a temporary home we called in at Tom Cronin Real Estate. After explaining, that we were the people from Switzerland who had written to him and he arranged for us the caravan accommodation....he said...oh yes...o.k. He didn't really know what to do with us. He had forgotten or never expected us to materialize. He didn't know it was for us he had arranged the accommodation. We had to explain to him that we were looking for a suitable grazing property to buy. So after a few attempts he finally said I pick you up, (we learned again a new term, pick you up..) tomorrow early in the morning.

I had caught a bad bladder infection and I was sitting nearly all night, on and off on a bucket as I couldn’t run out to the amenities block every ten minutes. It was the most awful night. I felt so miserable, lots of pain. Peter and the girls were asleep and didn't hear me rummage around. In the morning I went to ask Ella if she could recommend a doctor. Joan her daughter in law was also there, she and her husband were also involved in the caravan park business. Joan said I could go and see her doctor and she gave me the address.
The same day I went to see this doctor and we talked a little. He said, that I wouldn’t like it here it was much too hot. He didn’t understand my enthusiasm. When I looked into his eyes, something odd struck me, I saw something vague, an emptiness which I couldn’t understand at the moment . He gave me a prescription for antibiotics for my “bladder trouble”. For a few days I felt not very well, actually quite miserable, then the medication helped to clear up the infection. A month later Joan told me this doctor had made suicide. I wondered what brings people to such a low that they can’t live any more. It was very tragic.

The search begins for a property;
Tom Cronin picked us up early in the morning. I was glad that the antibiotics started to work and at least I didn't have to run to the toilet on and off. He arrived in a big Ford and we hopped in. He took us out of Grafton driving west. Driving very, very fast along a strait road with no turns or corners. After one and a half hours drive he slowed down. He drove into a long driveway. The surrounding country side was pretty, fairly flat, Eucalyptus trees scattered about. He said this is the grazing property. We drove slowly towards the homestead so we could have a look at the surroundings. It all looked very quiet, like everything was abandoned and nobody lived there anymore. No voices of happy people, no laundry drying, no pot plants, nothing. The pretty homestead, the gardens and the tennis court were all in need of a good "face lift". I looked around, there was no other house. The homestead stood alone in acres and acres of land. While driving I had not seen other houses, nor a village, not even other cars. There were no cattle grazing, probably already sold.

It was all very still and quite beautiful in its isolation. The land was not green it looked blond with a greenish tinge with a golden sheen over the grasslands. It was spring and it was fairly dry countryside. The rains had not yet come.
The owner came out and Tom Cronin introduced us. The man was Dutch, originally, he lived alone here. His wife lived and worked in Brisbane and the children lived with her. He was very eager to sell and to get out. It was 1974 and the cattle market was once more collapsing. People with big dreams had once more over committed themselves and the only way out was selling the farms.
I didn't inquire about the next town, schools for the children, airport, buses or train stations. I knew we wouldn't buy this property.

The next place Tom Cronin introduced us to another property that was also very isolated. The land looked similar it was also very open and sparsely timbered grazing land. The house and machinery sheds stood on top of a hill. Also here we didn't see any cattle grazing. The grasses were rough and tall and dry looking. The house looked newer, it was a very simple building of rough grey bricks nothing adorned it. We were shown inside and around. This property was not what we were looking for.
Then Tom Cronin drove with us into the bush. This was different. A two storey timbered house stood in a little clearing. Shadows were playing around. The windows winked were they were caught by the odd sun ray. Nobody was at home. A nanny goat was tied to a post with a long rope. It was calling us in a lonesome sound... The place was surrounded by tall trees, shrubs and scrub and when we explored a little further a big, silent billabong. Climbers were running up and down the trees, big and small leaved plants but no flowers. It was very shady, romantic but for me also a bit eerie as I saw a very big goanna climbing up a tree. It was nearly not distinguishable in all the green and dark surroundings.

We walked a little further and suddenly Peter called out a snake. Tom jumped up and cried where. He hadn't even seen it. He nearly stood on it. Tom was very scared. Peter and I laughed, we couldn’t help it, as it was rather comic seeing Tom with his long legs leaping up like a frog. He said he was not used to see snakes and he didn’t “fancy them”! We were quite OK in our "green-ness" about snakes! He was not keen on this adventure. For us it was not the right place, as romantic and intriguing it presented itself. Tom had enough of this dark place in the bush and drove quickly away.

Copyright:T.S.2008

Under a hotter Sun; We arrive in Grafton NSW;

We arrive in Grafton
We were early at the train station in Sydney to wait for our train that would bring us to Grafton. The clerk at the office had described this train as the best in the world. Patiently we waited and waited. Our departure time 8.30 pm drew nearer and nearer and there was just this old, dusty train waiting. People were rushing, said their goodbyes and busily boarded the waiting train.
Peter and I asked each other is this it? There was no other train in sight so we took the baggage and the children and looked for our seats in a reserved, first class, and no smoking compartment. Our reserved seats were already taken. We showed our tickets and said “ours”! The people that occupied our seats shrugged and didn’t move. There was no guard far and wide so we looked for five free places. We had to take whatever seats were free.

In front of me sat a man a pipe in his mouth. He smoked relentlessly like a chimney. The heavy smoke was like a shroud around my seat. I confronted him and said:” in here no smoking.” He ignored me completely so his smoke output doubled it send me into a restless sleep. A coughing attack and a jolt that announced another stop of the train woke me once more up. The seat in front of me was empty I hoped the smoker had left. There were now more seats available so we made a dash to occupy the empty places so we could sit together. There was no dining car to have something to eat or drink a cup of coffee and nobody came through with a drinks or cafe trolley like it is usual on long train journeys. When we passed New Castle we were amazed to see the whole city illuminated like a Christmas tree. We had a very restless night with people drinking beer, singing on top of their voices and also trashing out between them the odd argument. From that was some respite when suddenly the guard came to check the tickets. He complimented the lot of the revellers out of the first class compartment to which they promptly returned as soon as the guard had turned his back
The train made its way slowly to the North Coast of New South Wales. We travelled the whole night and were due to arrive in Grafton at 9am. At dawn a rosy sky announced a new day and happily we gazed out of the window, looked and talked about the strange landscape that opened up before us.
The train passed Coffs Harbour and we enjoyed looking at the hills thickly planted with Bananas that gave us our first clue that we were getting closer to a warmer climate. It was far passed our scheduled arriving time nearer to midday than morning. The train had also stopped in the middle of nowhere for quite a while and we didn’t know what happened.
Then finally, around midday, three hours late, we arrived at Grafton. I said to Peter just as well nobody did meet us.
Dragging and balancing seven suitcases and bags, we stepped into the unknown that is onto the platform of the train station in South Grafton. We were a bit stunned where we had landed and looked at each other baffled. In a silent way, our eyes met and we nearly turned back to board the train again.
At the same moment the train heaved a big sigh, shuddered and was in motion once more.
So for the time being we welcomed ourselves to Grafton”!
Our arrival was not notable the red carpet was at the cleaners. The reception committee was at lunch and the musicians were out of town!
The few people that had left the train with us had dispersed, met by family or friends they were whisked away in cars.
It was only us who were standing there a bit dazed and dishevelled from the long journey, a lost look on our faces, what have we done. The children oblivious to our momentary qualms sat on the suitcases chatted and giggled and wanted to know where we were going from here. We looked around and didn’t see a town or a village. A sturdy boy was standing near and looked at us and probably figuring out what sort of language we were speaking. I went to him and asked him where is the town, where are the houses?. He said:" The town is over the bridge." Satisfied with his certain knowledge that there really was a town we approached the waiting taxi.
While in Sydney we went to the bank of New South Wales. A young Swiss lady who spoke our language from their public relations office helped us with our accommodation in Grafton.
Previously while still in Switzerland we had written to a real estate office in Grafton to a mister Tom Cronin, so we gave her his address to contact, and mister Cronin rented for us a caravan. We hadn’t thought of this option but thought that’s how things were done here. If you needed a place to stay you hired a caravan. So our journey came to a halt for the moment. The Sunset Caravan Park was waiting for us.

We approached the taxi driver who glanced at us through dazzling sunglasses who reflected the sun rays in multi hued sparkles. He heaved himself up from his relaxed pose and I showed him the address of the caravan park. He said something that we didn’t understand then we said we wanted him to take us to the Sunset Caravan Park. He assessed us with our seven suitcases through his sunglasses still flashing purple, green and pink He struggled out of his seat that seemed to hold him back with compulsion. He opened the cavernous boot that took easily all our suitcases. Peter took the front seat and the girls and I piled in at the back. The plastic covered seat was hot to the touch. The taxi driver was now talking non-stop. Peter didn’t understand him at all and answered with mmh… and aah…and ooh… the taxi driver searching his face his sunglasses now on top of his head still hurling multi coloured lights, didn’t seem to expect more of an answer. We drove at a fast speed through avenues planted with tall Jacaranda trees that flowered in wonderful mauve and purplish blue. The sideways were thickly carpeted with the fallen petals.

I didn’t know then that I had my first sighting of the famous and wonderful Jacaranda trees of Grafton. At the end of this avenue the houses became more sparsely the trees gave way to grassland and a tall sign advertised the Sunset Caravan Park and Sanctuary.