Life in the Land Down Under: Appreciate the Small Moments

My fingers are trailing slowly through the water, leaving tiny ripples behind them. My eyes are closed and the only sign that I'm floating is the sounds of the birds and insects shifting around me on shore and the changes of temperature in the water. Joel talks to Bindi, the tiny puppy, and Harley floats somewhere nearby, the sounds of his paddling giving him away. We're cooling off in the dam after a day of wheeling load after load of hay into the garden and spreading it around the roots of the parched plants. It is hot. It is dry. There is not enough water to quench the garden's thirst in this weather. So we lay the hay down thick, hoping to keep the moisture in. The dam we swim in is the only source of water for this property. It is pumped up to the house, directed through pipes that heat as they reach the woodstove in the kitchen. The wood stove is where meals are cooked and tea is made. The house is filled with smoke and soot. When it is too hot to fire up the wood stove, there is no hot food, not hot water for showers. The rest of the water is diverted off to the garden tap. We only water on weekends. On weekends, the electricity to run the pump is cheaper. Off peak.

Cheryl worries about the garden. She worries that her trees and plants will die, leaving her with nothing to eat (she maintains a self-reliant raw food diet) and nothing to trade (she runs her household on the barter system- hardly paying for anything. Just trading her lemons or zucchinis within the community for necessities). She worries that the electricity costs too much. She worries that the trees closest to the house provide a corridor for bush fires to leap up the hill into her home. She worries that foxes will eat up her chickens and ducks. She worries that her grown twin boys won't take care of the place when she's gone. She worries. A lot.

Mark loves cars. One look at the place and you'd know that. There are cars everywhere. Old ones, new ones, half ones, whole ones. He loves to fix them up. Sometimes he loves to sell them. But right now he's too busy for cars. He's building an addition to the house. They've bartered for all the materials. And a good thing! Their combined income is 10,000 a year. But they live happily. Provide for their sons, dogs, goats and chickens. It is an exchange, Cheryl says. She feeds the chickens good healthy food and lets them free range in her garden, she eats their eggs.

Cheryl and Mark love music and yoga. They host retreats, festivals, weddings and other events. Sometimes hundreds of people flock to their property with tents, campers, hammocks and they enjoy a few days of festivities. Mark has re-furbished an old church. Honey colored wood and funky yoga type decorations inside. I'm lucky enough to stay in the church. On Friday, they will host their weekly jam session for the Celtic band they play with.

Bella Donna the goat gives us 2 pints of milk a day. Cheryl makes cheese. The other two goats, Elvis and Billy, are still young. Cheryl hopes that they will provide her with more goats. She worries that they'll grow up and become mean bucks. Bindi is best friends with the new kitten, Moose. They are the same size for now. But soon Moose will outgrow Bindi. We wonder if they'll still play then. Sheba is an overzealous stick chooser. She likes the reeeaaally big ones. Usually she gets stuck at the gate and refuses to drop the giant branch she's got clenched between her teeth. So we don't see her often. Duke is the biggest beast of a dog. A giant fur ball of black, brown and white. Face like a bear. He is a Burmese Mountain Dog and how he survives in the heat of this place, I'll never know. His paw is bigger than Bindi's entire body. He plays gently and Bindi likes to sit on his back.

Bella Donna and Billy eat while Elvis photos bombs

Bella Donna

Elvis. What a goof.

This farm in Castlemaine has been a practice of endurance. Heat, fatigue, frequently feeling on the edge of hunger as my body adjust to raw food, soot, smoke. There is a Brown snake living in the wall by the back door. It is the 2nd most venomous snake and I'm slightly fearful whenever I walk near the wall. I am consciously trying to appreciate every moment for what it is- but I don't think I'll be sad to leave this one.