Seals and rubber boats

Oh, ok so their proper name is an Inflatable Rubber Boat, or IRB. Really it doesn't matter! What's way more interesting is the fun you can have with them :D

One of the local rescue boats

Years ago, way BC (before kids) we succumbed to the allure of one of these magical, hysterically fun little craft, and had an absolute ball fanging around in it. On occasion we were pulled over by the Water Police, not so much for acting irresponsibly (good grief, of course not!), but because it seems to be expected that the owners of such craft are likely to flout regulations like carrying PFD's (personal floatation device - aka life jacket), flares and things like that which the police happen to consider are extremely important. Being little Goody Two Shoes, we always had the requisite bits and bobs, I suspect much to the chagrin of the coppers!

However, there was one occasion when we kind of bit off more than we could chew ... well, only one occasion for the purposes of this post ;)

Seal Rocks are to the right of the mound (The Nobbies) on the horizon

We decided to head off to Seal Rocks, in Westernport Bay. It was a long time ago, before it was a no-no to swim with the seals. We pulled up in a little rocky nook out of the swell and waves, all the better to get up close and personal with the fur seals. The smell was overpowering - putrid stench is a better term. It oozes off the rocks and out of the murky pooey water. They stink. The whole area stinks. You gag with the pong. I guess it's the rotting fish, lack of oral hygiene, and the burping and farting of the big boys and girls out there!

My cousin, lovely boy that he was, decided that it would be interesting to get out of the boat and see what a seal looked like from closer quarters. Hmmm. Is this a good idea? They're big. They have harems. They can get rather grumpy and chase off interlopers in an aggressive kind of way. Did I mention they're BIG? Really big!

"No worries" says Cuz, "She'll be right"- and off he goes scrambling awkwardly over the unfriendly black rocks.

He lasted for oh, I'd guess about 30 seconds...

It's fair to say I've never seen anyone move so fast and for all intents and purposes enact the classic cartoon manoeuvre of running through the air. The massive bull seal was outraged and determined to see off the interloper who was clearly after his harem! The noise!!! OMG He was furious and letting every being with kilometres know that he meant business!

Slender cousin extracted himself from the sharp, rocky and ultimately unwelcoming outcrop, faster than any of those highly trained lycra clad elite Olympic athletes strutting their stuff on slick surfaces!

Needless to say, my husband and I were doubled up with laughter, tears streaming down faces, yet well aware of the potential danger dear Cuz was facing. Frantically, hubby tried to start the strangely recalcitrant engine and manoeuvre the suddenly slothful boat ready for an inelegant landing and a James Bond style get-away.

Eyes round, and clearly extremely concerned, and making some very odd squawky noises, Cuz flailed and flew, scrabbling at the slick red rubber of the boat, with petite me dragging at any patch of wetsuit and clawing to drag him to safety. Satisfied, the bull seal harrumphed and snorted his way back to his precious harem as we skittered off to a safe distance to reflect on what could possibly have gone wrong.

Which is all a long way of saying we went for a stroll along the safe sands near Seal Rocks this morning and reminisced.

Now I wonder if Cuz has told his children of this particular adventure or will I share the link to this post on FB?

Seaweed. Safer than seals!

Seaweed and shadow.

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I was on TV last week!

Oh, ok, only in the background of a group scene, skulking behind a handy pole, but it's a start...

It began with an apparently routine email which turned out to be rather exciting!

"Marty Moo will be cooking up a storm at Tidal River! I will be serving a gourmet barbeque breakfast of Garden Farm eggs, Terramirra Park venison sausage and Hope Farm sourdough. Please come on down and enjoy breaky with me, all welcome! But if you can’t come then tune in to the Today show and see me on the telly! Marty" 

I don't watch much TV, and have never watched a breakfast show, but this was too good an opportunity to miss. Tidal River is the main camping ground at The Prom (aka Wilsons Promontory National Park) it's always a treat to get down there, and the added attraction was a free breakfast compliments of Marty!

What's not to like? ... apart from packing of course. However, we flung the tent and assorted camping gear in the car and headed off - one night only due to work commitments, but hey who cares, this was going to be a real treat.

Sunset treat at Norman Bay

Up and about by 7am

The Today Show airs on Channel 9 and the weather reports were duly broadcast live from Norman Bay at the Tidal River Camp Ground on Wilsons Prom by Today presenter Stevie Jacobs.

Kids, food, sand, water and expensive equipment -
What could possibly go wrong?

What really happened was sunrise, kids, sand, water (great combination with cameras!) swatting March flies, National Parks Rangers and personnel, parents and teachers, all the technical bods who put these things together seamlessly and heaps of hangers on, otherwise temporarily referred to as the Marty fan club. Did I mention swatting March flies - surreptitiously when the filming happened - nasty bitey things and larger and more enthusiastic than ever this season.

Later, back at another picturesque setting and BBQ, 
Marty and Emily were cooking up a scrumptious breaky. 

The Gourmet BBQ segment with Marty Moo showcased some exceptional Prom Country produce, cheerfully devoured by all and sundry.

As far as the locals were concerned, the real star wasn't Stevie, the host of the Today Show, (centre front in the pic above) but local identity and restauranteur Marty (far right) - otherwise known as Marty Moo of Moos at Meniyan.

Thanks for the invite Marty, it was a beaut mid week break and my birthday lunch was great too!

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A blessing or a millstone?

We realised we had more books in our home than most people, when the class assignment came home one afternoon. The instruction was to "Count the books in your house."

The assignment created quite a lot of stress in our household. Did the teacher of these grade 3 students really mean all the books?

Surely not!

Perhaps we'd misunderstood and what she really meant was all the books in one room, in one petite bookshelf. That would be reasonable! But all of them! Did she mean my son to include the ones teetering dangerously on the floor by the beds ready to succumb to gravity, those on the shelves in the toilet, as well as the ones secreted away in the wardrobes? Oh what a daunting task for a child (and parent).

We set to, if not with enthusiasm, at least with curiosity ... for a while ... at 500 we'd barely got through one modest bookcase of current titles. At 1000 we gave up. It was an overwhelming task. Sneezing took over the household as books, some long forgotten, but loved nonetheless, were un-wedged and opened, producing clouds of dust and unsettling the occasional silverfish which was promptly squashed.

Some are works of art in themselves, with leather covers and wafer thin pages. They are a window into the past when the writing was flowery and long winded. They echo a slower pace of life which relaxes into the rhythm of our old clock - tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

I feel myself slowing to a happier pace as I write this, and what had seemed like a burden of history, memories and inheritance shifts gradually from being a millstone, to a link with ancestors both known and unknown - and I'm grateful I kept some of these books that so often feel like they're weighing me down.

Some of the thousands that have gone to fetes and op-shops might have been a bad decision, but the quantity was overwhelming. But I often wonder what happened to the stacks of "Popular Science" and "Popular Mechanics" I'm sure I could have made space for them ;)

Oh, and the teacher's comment when my son confessed we hadn't counted all the books. "Perhaps it's time to get rid of some of them."

So, the question is, should they stay, or should they go?
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Meatless Monday Recipe :)

- adapted from a recipe in Tamara Milstein's "Soup"


This is a really easy recipe and very filling :)

Our neighbour's vegie garden

Indian Sweet and Sour Cabbage Soup


60 g ghee
2 Tablespoons ground coriander (sounds a lot but is fine)
500g carrots grated
500g tomatoes chopped
3 Tablespoons sugar (less is fine)
4 Tablespoons vinegar (I used white, but apple cider vinegar could be nice)
1 medium cabbage sliced finely (1/2 a largish one was ok)
4-6 cups vegetable stock


Heat ghee, add coriander, stir.
Add carrots and tomatoes, stir over heat till softened.
Add sugar, vinegar, a smidge of salt and pepper and some of the stock, then buzz till mushy. Keep on low heat.
Add the rest of the stock and the cabbage and enjoy a glass of wine (or beer) while you wait for it to get soft - about 30 minutes or so - when you're on the second glass of wine (or beer) remember to check to make sure it's bubbling along merrily.


Serve with a dollop of yogurt and a grate of nutmeg. I added some precooked brown rice which was scrumptious - I might try a few lentils next time.

Bug free, healthy, prolific - why doesn't my garden look like this?

And why, I hear you ask, did you cook a cabbage soup in the middle of summer? 


It had turned chilly, and our lovely neighbours had appeared at our back door laden with gifts: tomatoes, cabbage and assorted greens. There's only so much coleslaw one can eat in a week before you start looking for something a bit different! Soup was ideal.
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Summertime escapism

How many times have you heard "The best camera is the one you have with you", and how often have you wished you'd taken that advice? 

If my husband had packed the camera one fine day a couple of weeks ago,  and if he'd been quick off the mark and possibly elbowed aside a couple of hundred hefty fisherpersons, onlookers and tourists, we'd have a video to rival the one below. 

Unfortunately, the camera was nestled safely at home. On the kitchen table. Snug in it's little case. Gathering dust. Ignored and lonesome.

This is our local pier. Normally it's packed with fishermen and women experiencing varying degrees of success in the fish catching stakes.

 The pier was rotting, so the authorities decided it would be a good idea to partially reconstruct it.

The pier doesn't usually attract noisy crowds, but this fine sunny Sunday, people were lined up leaning all along the railing, hooting with laughter and cheering. Fishing rods, bait and buckets lay where they had been flung aside - their owners enthusiastically elbowing each other aside to watch the show.

A fisherman had caught a garfish and had been reeling it in with glee. A passing duck saw an opportunity to freeload and wasn't going to let the tasty flapping fish pass. He wanted that fish!

The fish was well hooked.

The fisherman wanted the fish. The duck wanted the fish. The fish wanted to get away.

The fish was caught between the proverbial rock and hard place. There was a tussle of gigantic proportions. Some of the rapidly swelling crowd took the side of the duck, some took the side of the fisherman. A few kindhearted souls took the side of the fish.

Seconds turned into minutes. The fisherman reeled. The duck tugged. The fish flapped. The tug of war seemed to be stretching the already slender fish.

Being Australia, no doubt someone was taking bets.

When the duck   f i n a l l y   won, there was more laughter and cheering, general slapping of backs and smiles all round.

And the serious business of fishing resumed!

Watch till the end. There's one crazy guy in a kayak - with shark!

Everyone has a fishing story! What's yours?

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Summertime :D

Having spent the day discussing the passing of the NDAA bill in the US and the possible implications for democracies around the world I need to get grounded with good dose of nature!

See the white blob in the centre foreground - that's a fish head. The head is about 30cm long, the whole carcass possibly a little under a metre. The fishermen fillet their catch then dump what they don't want.  The fish head is relevant to the next photo! 

This stingray has been a regular visitor this summer. It was feeding on the fish carcasses ...

 I watched it elegantly and lazily glide over, stop and kind of hunch over the fish carcasses and feed from them. See the bits on top that look like eyes? They're not! They're more like a valve and gloops of air bubble out infrequently. Its eyes are quite small and just forward of the air bubble vent things. Its mouth is more or less underneath its eyes, so presumably it locates food by feel (and smell?) 

The fins (wings?) daintily - effortlessly - ripple, but in exquisite slow motion, to change direction and speed. From wingtip to wingtip he'd be a metre, and the same in length, and then another metre for his tail. He is entrancing! 

 I will do some research on stingrays, as I realise I know practically nothing about them - but not tonight, it's been a long day and I need to get away from the computer - I just wanted to go to bed with these images in my head :)

What parts of nature bring you joy?
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Shiny New Year!

Random thoughts about Hot Rods.

Wandering down Main Street on New Year's Day, looking to see which cafes were open for breakfast, feeling, then hearing the distinctive sound of V8's or possibly V12's, finely tuned: k'thump, k'thump, k'thump.

Not much ground clearance.

The rumbling demands attention. Sucking down fuel that smells like avgas, creating a deep, low grumble, a rhythmic backdrop of sound - not too intrusive over the hiss and whine  of cappuccino machines.

Like people entranced by the lilting tune played by the Pied Piper, men, women, children turn and gawk - are compelled to follow the glittering Hot Rods down to the once peaceful park overlooking the sparkling bay.

Only mildly distracted, (breakfast is far too important to be rushed!) we eventually wander down to join the happy throng.

Bear-sized blokes delve under bonnets and dashboards, lean over to admire perfect leatherwork. In ones and twos or groups, deep voices share their love of their machines.  Women too, polishing cloths at the ready to further shine the mirrored chrome, carry chairs and picnic baskets, rub sunscreen into each others backs - keeping safe those hard to reach spots.

I'm delighted with the Mini, it reminds me of my first one. I splurged on having it painted purple and used to pack it with camping gear and head off for weekends at a national park. Looking at one now, I can't imagine how I fitted in my camping gear comfortably.  Later, I had an Austin A30 and I really regret selling it - tarted up, it would look a treat.

I have fond memories of the cars my uncles owned; some with running boards. I remember one had to be crank started, I can't imagine this one would be so antiquated! Does anyone remember chokes? How you used it regulate the mix of fuel, then left the car running to warm up.   I wish that one of us had had the forethought to keep one of those old cars. These are beautiful, absolute labours of love and bring back great memories!

Where do they get fuel for Hot Rods? They're unlikely to use unleaded, and what will they do when petrol becomes scarce, will they safeguard some fuel for an annual outing to get together and share stories of days of glory and chrome?

                           

I love the way the bonnet folds back on itself, it oozes charm and elicits thoughts of chiffon and champagne and hedonistic days gone by. Some of the cars had dickey seats beautifully re-leathered, now there's another job for a craftsman.

We played the game "If you could afford any of these cars, and insurance and fuel were no problem, which would you have?" This is the one I chose - chrome, gold and those wonderful old tyres. Gorgeous!

Which one would you choose?

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Gingerbread Melbourne

Knowing how hard it is (for me at least) to create reasonably flat, well proportioned gingerbread shapes and stick them together so they don't slither and slide creating something more like a disaster zone than a stable building, I'm super impressed by this creative Gingerbread Village by Epicure in Melbourne this month.

Here's the real Melbourne Town Hall

and the gingerbread facsimile, complete with wreaths and snow. 

It'd be a bit of a shock to wake up and find snow in Melbourne, but you can always dream!

The Arts Centre from the back of Fed Square (Federation Square) looking across the Yarra River.

The gingerbread Arts Centre complete with spire - no seagulls wheeling above it thankfully! The MCG (Melbourne Cricket Ground) is in the background. The Christmas tree with star that you see at the bottom of the photo is in the next shot. 

without snow, thankfully!

and a close up of the MCG complete with the towering lights, spectators and players. 

A structural masterpiece!

I suspect this is Flinders Street Station, normally seen without the reindeer and Santa!

 Santa and an elf have come to life!  Taking a break to sample some gingerbread.

Playing hide and seek amongst the forest of plastic trees at Fed Square. It would have been a real challenge in gingerbread as it has fantastic angles. Flinders Street Station is the sandy coloured building with the dome in the background.

And for those dreaming of jingling bells, there's always the possibility of enjoying a horse and carriage ride. Just beware of the rhinoceros on a skateboard! (A clever advertising strategy reminding people that trams don't stop quickly or easily.)

Now, back to trying to make something presentable out of my own gingerbread disaster. The roof insists on slithering off...sigh.

I cheated this year, and bought a kit from the supermarket - Never again! Whilst the shapes are neat, it smells all wrong, it's sickly sweet and I suspect the flour is coloured rather than oozing ginger and cinnamon; it doesn't smell like Christmas. Smell is such an important sense, it seems a pity to shortchange it, don't you think? It's a bit like the plastic tree we resorted to a couple of years ago during the drought - ok, but not quite right.

Celebrations and smells. What does Christmas smell like to you?
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what have we become?

We’ve pursued wealth and have become greedy with excess.
We’ve sought power and have become brutish and aggressive.

We’ve chosen to play with shifting goal posts on an uneven playing field.
To our advantage
of course.

Sold our country's soul to the highest bidders.
Ignored common sense in our quest for ‘growth at all costs’
And what a cost it is - living on borrowed time,
But the borrowing will need to be repaid … with interest … soon.

We’ve chosen to ignore wisdom and generosity of spirit.
But Christmas is coming, let’s be jolly and pretend all is well -
Noel.

South Australia. Open cut coal mines.
photos: D. Abbott.

The Australian Government has voted to sell uranium to India - because we sell it to China. Neither country has signed the Nuclear Non-proliferation Treaty (saying they won't use the uranium for aggressive purposes). 


We're mining black and brown coal and shipping it (mainly to China) to help fill their increasing energy needs. Soon, some of this shipping will be through the fragile, stressed Great Barrier Reef, taking coal-seam gas to China. We don't invest enthusiastically in renewable energy to prepare for the time when the earth has nothing left to give. 


We watch with idle curiosity while some of our Island neighbours watch their homelands get consumed by the rising seas. IMHO we seem to be taking one step forward and many backward.


We used to call ourselves "The Lucky Country" - I wonder when our luck will run out.


What do you think?




A drabble is a story told in 100 words. No more, no less.
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Nesting

I wonder if the owner of this nest thought it was strong and secure. The bird has woven in baling twine, very solid fencing wire and different coloured lengths of boating rope. There are twigs with gumnuts adding a rather whimsical tone, and it was well and solidly worked into the fork of the tree.










Unfortunately the tree needed to be lopped. My friend was pleased that the tree surgeon rescued it from the mulcher and it's been added to her artistic displays.

playing with words

Perplexed pre-schoolers wail piteously
a paucity of playground posts peep from the putrid waters
parents pray the council will not prevaricate any longer
"put the playground on higher ground!"
Persistent precipitation portrays the wisdom of parents.

Pugnacious rocks pummelled the previously pretty plain
uprooted plants, eroded placid platypus haunts.
Pummeling precipitation eroded the once playful riverbed

POW

Playground now in the past
more like a pool.

Belated post for 11/11/11

Thinking of all those affected by bitter, divisive conflicts both past and present in far too many nations of the world. The service men and women as well as their families: husbands and wives, children and loved ones - they cross all cultures, religions and ethnic groups.

This song seems appropriate:

Limbering up for the A-Z April blogging Challenge

Last year for the A-Z Blogging challenge hosted by Arlee Bird (here) I really wanted to do something about climate change. But it was too hard, too complex, and to be honest, too darn depressing. But the idea has been playing on my mind all year, niggling and asking for my attention.

I don't particularly want to spend time reading weighty books and research papers about environmental degradation, pollution, waste, greed, the melting of polar ice and all the things mentioned in the cartoon below. But if I'm going to live according to my core values it's something I need, and choose, to do.

• one of my vital core values is to connect with and spend time in the natural environment. I'd like future generations to have the opportunity to enjoy it as I do. 
• another is to be part of a community, to connect with, and be part of something bigger than my own little space in the world. It'd be great to connect with others doing their bit to make a difference.
• a third core value is to do with education and personal development. I like to extend myself. I enjoy being educated, informing, sharing and trying to explain concepts clearly. 

If I'm going to live comfortably with myself, I need to embrace my values and move in a direction where I act on them, even though it may be difficult. I'll try to ignore the demons of "Nothing's going to change", "I'm setting myself up for disappointment because no-one's interested anyway" and  "Who do you think you are? Getting too big for your boots if you think you can have an effect".

To help me through, I'll apply the principles of ACT (Acceptance and Commitment Therapy) and mindfulness meditation and make space for the feelings of anxiety and self-doubt, possibly make friends with my demons and breathe deeply into any discomfort.  (Information on ACT here.)

Rather than leaving the preparation to the last minute like last year, I've been thinking ahead, mulling over how to present the whole depressing schemozzle so it’s not a major turn off.

Pilfered from Burrowers, Books and Balderdash here.

But, first, I needed to drag myself out of the chasm of despair and fear that envelops me when I think about climate change and the destruction of our eco-systems. So I took some time off to relax, be inspired, blow away the cobwebs and re-energise. And it was fun!

 This path is high above the surrounding plain. 
The white rocks that litter the path were once at the bottom of an ancient sea.
Mutawintji NSW

 I wonder if this River Red gum had been graftedby a local aboriginal group years ago to create a specific shape? If you look closely at the top of the photo you can see where it has created another loop and the light is glowing through. Hattah Lakes, Vic.

 Trees have grown along fault lines where water has trickled.
To get a sense of scale, I'm the little splodge on the right looking over the amazing landscape. Mutawintji NSW.

Click here to join the A-Z blogging challenge in 2012 with Arlee Bird and his great band of helpers. 

Thinking about climate change and environmental damage, in the privacy of our own heads, can make us feel insignificant and scared.  It was only when I made veiled comments to others, including my doctor, that conversations opened up and I realised I'm not alone in with the continual sense of fear and doom.

My doctor commented that he is treating more people for depression than ever before, and suspected that isolation and fear about the future may be part of the cause.

You want us to join you?

It'd be great if you join me over at traverselife where I'll be blogging from A-Z in April.  Click on the  ENGAHC button at the top right for more information about my theme.  Perhaps you could 'follow' if the topic is something you can contribute to, or want to learn more about. I'd like you to share your insights, stories and comments.