We have leeches. We came here dreaming of self-sufficiency, beautiful homes, shady trees and abundant gardens. All those things are coming along - slowly, steadily. When we got here it was hot and steamy, about as bad as we would imagine it would get, but we just weren’t ready for it. We sweated and wilted, longing for dry heat and a cool afternoon wind blowing off the sea, wishing it was cooler. Be careful what you wish for. When it started to rain we had 94mm on the first day, followed by 130mm on the second. That’s about a quarter of
Their favourite place to hang out was in the end of my crocs, hidden from view and able to surreptitiously latch on between my toes; filling up until eventually I’d notice the extra, squidgy toe I had acquired and investigate with a rising feeling of dread. Now if I was caught sucking someone’s blood I suspect I’d probably try something along the lines of denial and apologetic, which would really just be stalling tactics while I planned my quick get away. Leeches however try the totally different approach of latching on and refusing to let go. I think this is a particularly bad move because my response invariably quickly escalates from revulsion, through indignance and then on to a kind of psychopathic rage that ends in an ex-leech.
Now that Christmas is over and the house is down to just the 5 of us we have been able to get on with some work. The dairy occupies most of my days. First it had to be emptied, then gutted, then un-clad, and then we had to remove all the asbestos, then the stud work, then the internal masonry walls. Now I’m getting it ready to have a new slab poured over the existing slab, which slopes on an angle so the old dairy could be mucked out easily. I’m taking out all the internal supports, building trusses and propping walls. I’m also buying lots of tools and hardware which is far more enjoyable than it should be. A new drill here, a generator there (no power down at the dairy yet), and a new reciprocating saw. Not because I want it, but because I NEED it.
The other day we put up some fencing so we could have our own little cow-free paddock. Slowly but surely the blank canvas is filling. I bought an old outdoor table and chairs for $20 at a garage sale and they’re now sitting under a big shady tree next to the dairy. Even on hot days it’s cool in the shade and some days Emma and Noah come down and bring lunch or morning tea. We sit and stare at the steep, forested hills and valleys, dip biscuits in our tea and can’t believe how lucky we are. We dream of our life to come, fleshing out the bare grass in front of us with verandas, fruit trees, a tree house and ducks. Geese would be good here. There are lots of grasshoppers, and rather than see this as a problem per se, the only problem I see is that we don’t have any geese to eat them. Yet.
Some days Emma drags me away down to the river to swim. It’s a short walk down to the river, avoiding the occasional scotch thistle and cow pat. Noah likes to climb on each gate before we open it so he can have a swing. The river is always cool and refreshing. With all the rain it became a raging torrent for a week or so but it is gradually receding back to our familiar lazy, wide sanctuary. We leave our towels in the middle on a wide ford of rocks and then wade upstream. It gets deeper and deeper until you can’t stand. We recently discovered a good rock for jumping in off. If you stand still little fish come and nibble at your legs. There’s big fish too – about 45cms. A friend thinks they might be fresh-water bass. I have no idea. I have seen little turtles though, as well as platypus burrows. Em, Angela and Ken walked up Blackbutt creek and saw some big eels. Noah can only stay in the water for about 20 minutes before he starts shivering and we have to strip him down and lay him on a big hot rock to warm up.
It’s all very lovely – except for the leeches. At least they only seem to come out when it’s wet and raining. It’s fine when it’s dry. Except for the ticks.
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