Under a hotter Sun; The making of the Garden;

The garden;

I have started to establish my Gardens. One for vegetables and one for ornamental plants.
P... has made a fence so the cattle can't come in and eat up the plants. The soil looks poor and is very hard to dig and it does not hold the water. The garden needs an awful lot of improvement with the soil. First I planted Australian native bushes with brilliant flowers. Melaleucas, called "Robin Redbreast". It has tiny bottlebrush flowers in a vivid orange. I planted lots of Callistemon, usually just called Bottlebrushes, in different reds, some are overlaid with gossamer gold. They come in lots of colours. Dark purple, pink, very long white brushes and even a very light yellow colours. The fantastic Banksia comes in different hues of yellow with slim and tall or fat and squat flower heads. Different leaves too, but always tough and hard to touch. I try to plant the ones from the region. I have tried some from West Australia but have never been completely successful at one stage or the other they have succumbed to the wrong conditions.

The garden takes on shape. We have planted Orange, Mandarin, Tangello and Lemon trees. They bear their fruits in winter when they are very welcome. The flowers are very sweetly scented and perfume the whole garden...it is the most agreeable scent a little bit like lilies of the valley..”Mister Dior” eat your heart out!
We have also planted Persimmon and Mango trees. A small orchard is emerging around the house.
I have dug a lot of pathways and Peter has filled them with pebbly concrete. I have marked out many beds. One after the other is going to be planted out. I get a lot of cuttings from everywhere especially from Jean Barnier, she loves gardening like I do.
Her mother loves gardening too and she has a beautiful garden. She also gave me lots of cuttings which I strike and most of them take quite easily. She gave me a rare and special cutting from a flower called commonly “Blue Ginger” its Latin name is Dichorisandra thyrisflora, quite a mouthful, no wonder we all use the “common names”! I have planted also some rosebushes. Summer is probably to hot for them to do really well. As long as I can cut some for the vases I am happy. I have planted many miniature roses they seem to do alright for the time being.
In front of our house we build a small pool to bolster the local frog community. When raining it is a truly beautiful feature its rim planted with bog loving plants, our croaking friends, who usually send their love calls in the middle of the night, cherish it. Dear people from Switzerland who spend some time with us were driven crazy by the noise; Karli went out armed with a broom and a flashlight to disperse the noisiest
lovers. He had not much luck in his endeavour as the frogs went into hiding as soon as the beam of light hit them. Resigned he went back in to his bed his ears plugged with cottonwool.
In midsummer it is a marathon to keep the pond filled with water. The water disappears through cracks in the clay soil as soon as it is filled. Until the next big thunderstorm I fill a dish with water so the frogs can have a little dip to cool their sensitive skin.
Big, brilliant green creatures with a dreamy expression take advantage of any cool and moist spot. They wander into bathrooms and occupy toilets, sit in pipes and gutters. From time to time they call each other with raucous croaking.
There are also very tiny frogs some only two to three centimetres. I find them huddled in lettuce leaves. Carefully I transport them back in to the garden.
I love to watch the dragonflies flitting above the pond. In the German language they have such a lovely name “Libelle” it sort of describes their ethereal beauty. Many take advantage of our small water feature. The plantings of Bamboo and Papyrus gives them shelter. They are the most elegant ballerinas clad in deep sky blue, emerald green, dark wine red and many other colours. Some have dark spots and patterns on their gossamer fine wings. They are verily the most gracious of insects.

Summer can unleash torrents of rain and fierce, horrendous storms. Lightening, eerie non-stop illuminates and fissures the sky. Thunder explodes, torn from the deepest abyss. It is a frightening experience. On a hot afternoon, a storm was brewing. Dark clouds chased each other expanded swiftly and piled up a grey-black menace to threaten people and animals alike. The cattle retreated into the bush to get some shelter there. Thunder and lightening cracked the heavy dark blue and black chaos without end and created supernatural pictures.
Lilli and I were alone at home looking out of the kitchen window towards the front paddock. Thunder and lightening attacked the heavens furiously, when suddenly a horrendous thunderclap made us jump and the next moment lightening struck a tree not twenty metres from us. It was a show we will never forget. Lightening zigzagging into the tree and setting the tree alight, green frogs were catapulted into the air and fell down dead. The tree was partly hollow and dried out. Frogs that made it their home didn’t expect such a terrible expulsion. Then the rain was released in a tremendous, solid sheet of water. It pounded and crushed earth and plants and I thought they would never recover from such an onslaught.

In midsummer the vegetable garden grandly named “Le Potager” planted in spring with a lot of enthusiasm looks limp and uninspiring. Most of it we ate, some we had to share with the creatures that harvest but don’t sow. The King Parrots, marvellous birds, wearing everyday their Sunday best in green and bright red, love tomatoes as much as we do.
The sun triumphant sends out its fieriness to wither the rest of plants. Lettuces quickly grow to towers producing trillions of seeds spreading them on fluffy wings all over the garden. In autumn they will emerge as tiny plants which I can then just transplant, how ingenious.
Then comes a time when it is just absolutely to hot to work in the garden. The
vegetables don't like it either. Most things have succumbed to the heat, lost their vigor like myself. Cucumbers and Melons have withered from mildew and if this heat goes on I will wither too. So, I am waiting for kinder days in autumn.

Under a hotter sun; A new year!

A new year !
The girls have started school. Jacky and Lilli in Tyndale and Marie-Louise at Maclean High school. Norma said I could came with her to the assembly where the Headmaster of the school held a speech. I only understood the odd word Australian English was so hard to understand. My ear had not yet adapted to the sounds and vowels to the Australian language.

I was wondering how Marie-Louise would get along. All day long I was thinking of my girls in those strange schools, surrounded by strange people and also a strange language to learn. My heart was heavy when I went to pick them up at half past three from the school bus which stops at Hazel's milk bar. All three seemed to be happy and have taken their first school day in their stride.
Marie-Louise was taken under the wings of a few senior students from Year 11 and 12. They looked out for her and asked all sorts of questions about Switzerland, which she answered as best as she could. Also the Librarian asked her if she wanted to become a library monitor. It pleased Marie-Louise, she loves books. Her day went all in all quite well. The English teacher is prepared to give Marie-Louise extra lessons to catch up with her class.
Jacky and Lilli have also made their experiences. The teacher was talking about ants but they didn't know what he was talking about. So he send a child out with them to show them the ants. I think they will learn the language quickly because nobody speaks their language. They have to take their lunch with them as they are not coming home over lunch it wouldn't be practical as Maclean is about 23 km from Hazel's place and then there are an other 6 km to our place.

The bus leaves at eight AM and returns at half past three PM. It is a long day. I wonder how the five and six year old children cope with such a long day. When the children are at school I am mostly alone at home. Peter is always somewhere working on the property, and it is BIG. In Australia a farmer plants crops and he owns a farm. A grazier has beef cattle or sheep and his farm is a grazing property, these are the subtleties in different countries.
We have Hereford Beef cattle, so we are "Graziers"! Letters which are sent from Stock and Station agents are very old fashioned addressed only to P. S...., Esquire....I don't exist! It is not done to slight me, it is just the way things are done in a world of men. P.. too has this attitude. He had a new sign made for our house it just said: P. S....This old fashioned attitude "it niggles a bit"!

More clean up.
Peter was going to do more cleanup work along the river bank. To plant some corn and pumpkins for the pigs he intended to buy. It was hazardous work with all the leftovers from a previous flood hiding under the cover of man high weeds.

He suggested I should walk in front of the tractor to find out if some big tree was in the way of the tractors wheels. I put on my boots and sunhat and was ready for this task. Diligently I was trudging in front of the tractor. At first quite happy to fulfil this task, as there were all sorts of things happening in those weeds. Bugs and butterflies flitting past me, a tiny mouse or something similar scuttling away from my boots.
It was a big, big, big field. It seemed to me the rows were getting longer and longer until to the end of this particular field. It was not really easy walking, I had to be careful not to fall in a hole made by the water and the field was very uneven! When a big stump or an other hindrance was in the way, we had to push it away, it was really hard work. I was getting hot and hotter and sweaty. It felt like my face was on fire. I was not used to work like this. I was promising myself that this was the first and the last time to be the scout. I rather learn how to drive the tractor. I was tired, hot and had just enough. My stamina was on zero.
My pioneer days along the river bank were not successful!

This was a bad day for me. This was not grazier work, this was full on plain hard farm work.
The first corn was going to be harvested. This field was already planted by the previous owner. Our neighbour had a harvester machine. It looked like it came from a time bygone. It looked like "Tinguely's machine"! I wondered if he (Tinguely) saw this one before he built his!
The harvester started its work. It lost as much corn back into the field as landed in the bags. Next Year the corn will grow by itself if the mice, rats and birds haven't eaten it already.
The pumpkin crop seemed to do alright. Big Pumpkins round and fat, nestling between the leaves. Soon ready to be harvested. Then came the rain and the flood and goodbye Pumpkins. If they didn't drown they were happily swimming in the swirling water towards the sea. The corn was drowned too. Some could be saved. We have only once planted pumpkins and corn on the riverbank. The Australian farmers, living there since generations are much more fatalistic. They say, sometimes you win and sometimes you loose.

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.