Well here it is the eleventh hour again – for January Blog.
Last night went down to my chook house to check on my four Silky hens and two roosters, as I do each evening to make sure they’re tucked up safe from foxes. The evening was soft, not a breath of wind, South Australian summer-dry but a gully breeze cooling the farmyard, and the house. A warm feeling washed over me. How blessed I am to live on this little six acre farm.
Even though not a day goes by without my feeling the absence of my husband whose energy still seems to be so palpable about the place, I look around me and am always smitten by the beauty of what we created together. But much of what is here was established a hundred years ago, or more. A six bay implement shed, now covered in rusting iron. Hand-hewn redgum beams and posts still as strong as the day they were erected by Warren’s ancestors. And other sheds and yards like it. WE created a park-like garden. Well …. it was largely me. I designed, dug, planted, watered, weeded, pruned. Warren hated gardening – unless he could use a tractor or a chainsaw. Anything quiet like a spade, a rake or pruning snips was just not on the agenda. Ok. I was fine with that. There are times on a farm when only the big guns will do. I love our river red gums full of galahs, magpies, crows, and sometimes sulphur crested cockatoos and kookaburras. They bring life to the place.
When I went down to my chooks last night, I saw that one of their two water containers was upside down on the ground. The other container was almost empty. I bent down to right the upturned one, and there was little brown hen Jenny sitting underneath it. She must have tipped it onto herself as she was getting the last of the water. She shot me a glance as if to say ‘I wondered how long you’d take to find me,’ and hurried off to graze and scratch. They are a happy little free range bunch who provide me with an egg each a day – most of the time.
A few weeks ago a visitor’s dog attacked them. Stumpy the rooster was worst hit. He lost most of his tail feathers but survived. However he instantly lost his appeal with the ladies. Certainly not as handsome without his magnificent plume out back, he lost his confidence and was ostracised from the group. Junior, the other rooster took charge of the bevy and wouldn’t let Stumpy anywhere near them. Today I noticed Stumpy’s old partner Jenny regaining interest. She’s grazing near him and giving him the eye but not yet game to resume the relationship as Junior keeps a jealous eye on these overtures. Stumpy and Jenny have been seen doing little furtive dances around each other lately. I want to see them back together. Junior doesn’t need her. He has three others.
This is my little patch of paradise. I’d love to see out my days here but who knows what the future will bring. It’s a big house and garden for one person. Will I buckle to conformity and retire to town as expected by the well meaning masses? No rush. Today I am strong, healthy, and able. And the place is filled with the friendly ghosts and energy of all those gone before me.