About Bec C

I made the tree-change move from Sydney to my husband 'Dougal's' old family property on the mid-north coast several years ago, but only since the birth of my first son have I really lived here. In between raising 2 young sons, I am trying my hand at sustainable farm management... 'Trying' being the important word. Whilst the ability to pat my steers gives me much satisfaction, I love the fact that every morning I awake to space and open sky... even if it is 5am.

Christmas In November

DSC_1962We have, ummm, been celebrating the Christmas season since Halloween. This is not because we have been consumed by religious fervour (not much of that here. In fact, errr, quite the opposite), but because the only thing that would appease young Thomas from the disappointment of not being allowed to ‘celebrate’ Halloween (“no darling, we don’t live in America, we are not Americans, it is not our holiday”), was me agreeing to let him put up some Christmas decorations instead. Why not? Continue reading

That Patch of Dirt?

For the first time, I read an email from Bec H with horror. She was starting up a vegie co-op with a difference. And it was going to involve me.

I’m sure Bec H won’t mind me telling you that It has long been a dream of hers to start a vegie co-op up here, as there are so many local producers. And really, take a look at her garden – you can gauge the level of her enthusiasm

(and now, take a look at mine. Even more sadly, you should know that I am enthusiastic too).

Continue reading

A Hot Topic

We don’t have a garbage bin with a green lid for green waste. In fact, I count myself lucky to have any bins at all. Still in range of the council garbage pickup, the line is however, drawn at green waste – which is really fair enough – after all, we have 50 acres to dispense of it ourselves.

So bizarrely one of the first things to greet you when you arrive at our front gate is a massive pile of ‘green’ rubbish. You’d think, with 50 acres, we might have chosen a less ‘in your face’ dumping spot. I mean, what a welcome. But in this case, convenience was the key, and that’s where the chopping occurred, so that’s where it got dumped.

And like alpaca poo (who all poo in the same spot in a paddock. I know this because my neighbours have alpacas), over a period of several months that pile has grown and grown into something quite fearsome.

So a month ago, we decided it was time for it to go. It was time for a bonfire. After all, did we really want to be looking at it during the fire ban over the next 6 months, every time we drove through the gate? Continue reading

Rats Tales

Something has been eating the fruit in the fruitbowl, and it’s not me. In fact, it’s not any us. Well, no human, at any rate…

fruit bowl 2But I think I’ve said it somewhere before: a rodent doesn’t seem quite so bad, if you put the word ‘native’ in front of it. Even so, there is a fine line of acceptability, and it’s generally respected until we go away for several days at a time. And then presto – it’s open house (oh, the joys of living in an old house with gaps). Continue reading

A Nighttime Adventure

The other night we were on our way home from an evening out with friends, when we came across three cows. Being in the country, this of course wasn’t unusual, except that these three cows were on the wrong side of the fence. On the road. In the dark.

dark road

File footage of dark road

Whilst not the Pacific Highway, this road nonetheless is important enough in terms of traffic to have been a major local election issue several years ago (what’s that? You didn’t hear about it down your way? How could that be?!). Adjoining the highway, it can get quite busy, and cars and trucks barrel along down it at quite a speed. It’s also in shocking condition, and its’ potholes and resemblance to a slalom course are often remarked upon by unsuspecting visitors.

But I digress. Back to the cows. So there we were, barrelling along at our own pace in the darkness, when I notice a car approaching slowly, hazard lights on, high beam flashing. I slow down, just in time to see the white patches of the three Hereford cows (or steers, who knows in that light?) glow in the moonlight from amongst the trees on the side of the road. Continue reading

Running Up that Hill

Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
With no problems…”

(Kate Bush, ‘Running Up That Hill’)

This November I turn 40. I’ve never really thought much about my age until now. But as the day approaches, I find myself noticing changes to my physical and mental self (kind of like an older version of that book ‘What’s Happening to Me’). That said, I continue to cling to the belief that age itself is just a number, and really at the end of the day I’m only as old as I feel.

So, I’ve decided to give myself a physical challenge and go on an adventure in honour of the power of growing older, just because I – still – can.

And of course I’ve roped in a few friends along the way. Continue reading