Ode to autumn and a visit to Coffs Harbour;

Autumn, very early in the morning is a very lovely time. The sky is already infused by light. In the east, the sun hastens to smudge an orange hue along the ridges. The sky is without blemish and promises a beautiful autumn day. Down at the riverbank, mist still crowds the low fields and the river. It is a time of absolute peace and tranquility. The birds orientate themselves with tentative twitters. The orange wash at the horizon turns to pink and sweeps up higher scattering its colour in anticipation of the new day. At half-past six the sun spreads gold over trees and fields. With melodious voices, the birds are caroling their rebirth from the night. The day has woken. At seven the landscape is suffused with light and shadow, the mist has lifted into nothingness.

Autumn is what I think the best time of year. The days are still quite warm, yet the summer’s furious heat, its harsh glaring light has exhausted itself. My spirits and industriousness have returned. The garden beckons for new plantings. Autumn here is not like in Europe a goodbye to nature and a long wait for spring to return. Autumn here is a welcome to mellow, golden sunshine, gentle breezes, and an invitation to go back to the soil to plant. Bend over garden beds and feel the warm earth crumble between your fingers. Tiny plants go into rows and it is an everyday pleasure to look and follow their growth.

Life is so much easier in autumn.

Autumn is also the time to make visits. For quite a while we wanted to visit some Swiss people in Coffs Harbour.  Our neighbour Norman told us in the beginning about Jack and his small farm. He said we should go and visit him. When I asked Norman since when Jack lived in Australia; he laughed and said: Jack, not very long, probably about 40 Years.” I laughed and said, but Norman this is half a lifetime. What about us who have just touched base.  Quizzically he looked at me and we both laughed. Norman was such a nice and easy-going man.

Sunday came and we decided to go and visit Jack. The drive was pleasant over the range. Everywhere were small stalls selling Pawpaws and Bananas.  Mainly Indian women in colourful saris and their children were selling fruit. The women generally could not speak English and needed the help of their small children, perhaps  7 or 8 years old to help with the money. The children, mainly girls with small rattails and liquid black eyes were fluent in English thanks to the schools they went to. They were quite adept at counting the money, helpful with a ready smile.

Arriving in Coffs we found Jacks farm outside of the town. A  pretty place with a homestead in the hacienda-style of South America, as he had lived many years there before moving to Australia.  He was a small, wiry man in his seventies, not married, but lived together with two of his sisters. They were around the same age as him.  The sisters were tall and lean with hawkish faces. We were quite astounded when one of them asked if the Italian seasonal workers, she used a very derogative name, were now out forever of Switzerland.
I said I do not know what you mean, the Italians who came to Switzerland were very hard-working people and one should not use this word to describe their nationality. She snorted and we left it there.
Jack and his sisters belonged to a sect and I think he was also sort of a missionary, as they had a chapel on their property. They showed us around and invited us for lunch.
Lunch consisted of leftovers from previous meals. Many small bowls were filled with dubious food. My stomach just says no in a situation like this. I said a cup of tea will do for me. My children had their plates full of macaroni, snow-white, no sauce, their eyes saying we won’t eat this…. When the sisters turned their back to get more of the little bowls I quickly said: “pretend”! The girls shoved their food around the plates; one of the sisters said in Swiss, are you not hungry. The sisters did not speak English, despite living in Australia for quite some years. I said we had a late breakfast and ate fruit on the way.
My cup of tea had a sugary rim from previous use of the cup. We were all glad when we could leave the table, after quite a long thanksgiving, nearly a sermon by Jack.
For sure it was an experience. After lunch, Jack showed us more of his farm.  On a small hill stood an ancient tractor.  Every time when he finished working with his tractor he had to drive it up the hill, so the next time he used it he could let it run down the hill as the battery was old and did not work properly. He had enough money to buy a new battery, he was not a poor man, but he was a bit mean with his money.
When we said good-bye he gave me some pamphlet of his sect to read. I said, I am not religious, and not interested, but he insisted that I take them. I did not want to offend him and took them home where they landed in the waste paper basket.  It would have been better if he kept them for somebody who would have appreciated them.

1974