Hot and dry

Each morning breaks into a clear blue sky and rising temperatures. No sign of rain. Ever. Brisbane might have thunderstorms this afternoon according to Fran Kelly on ABC National this morning. This gives us hope. A little. We are starting to lose plants that we planted down by the creek and if we hadn't been watering our plantings close to the house systematically over the past few months many of them would now be dead.
We had just over 1000mm of rain in the first six months of the year. So far, in the last six months we have had around 150mm. Please rain.

An arvie swim

It was another hot day. The NBN weather man said it had been 38 in Limsore and so was probably about 40 out here at Larnook. For those of you who live in Newcastle, Larnook is positioned about the same distance from the ocean as Singleton. But Larnook is prettier. Much prettier. And we don't have coal mines.
Anyway, so it was still real hot when we arrived home at about 5.00pm. Martins had been wheel barrowing loads of dirt from Ground Zero today until the tyre on the wheelbarrow got a puncture. "Exploded" to quote Martins. He then spent the rest of the day watering plantings. He had done half the plants down by the creek but had taken some time out.
When we arrived home he was about to return. So I joined him and together we filled buckets of cool water from Leycester Creek and watered the remaining 20 or so plants. When we finished I decided to have a swim. I stripped off to nothing, feeling that fleeting feeling of exhileration of being completely naked outside. How naughty. I walked a few steps into the water, treading in soft. clean sand before falling into the water.
The coolness of the creek swallowed me and I felt as if I weighed nothing. I slid further into the deeper water until I could barely stand on the rocks below. My body felt like it was sensing like it hadn't been sensing. I felt slightly warmer and slightly cooler currents against my skin as I swam leisurely across to some rocks that jut up out of the creek. Turtles and little pied cormorants rest here as well. I felt refreshed. I felt alive. I felt like a kid again. And this was at my place. Skinny dipping in a cool creek. After work. At home. Bliss.

a different view of maryville

Shane and I mounted an expedition on Monday up our little creek on our property on the other side to the house. We then headed up a ridgeline on our neighbour, Bill's property and found we had a fine view of Maryville from a very different perspective.

Latvian versatility

Martins (see posting below) has been quite versatile....digging out stubborn azealea bushes (well what was left of them after they got hacked back to their roots); laying down barrowloads of mulch and...

painting a timber bench seat we bought some time ago at the Tender Centre. In the shade. Under the mango tree.

(partial) metamorphosis

My main project while I have been on rec leave this week has been to clean out the central 'courtyard' area between the two pavillions so that we can do a complete Jamie Drurie makeover. Think timber deck, long rectangular fish pond, water lillies, Bali effect. Go on, use your imagination.

So Shane and I began the process on Tuesday by removing all the pavers and some garden beds.

Then Martins, our Help_Xer from Latvia (think Eurovision Song Contest) got stuck in on Wednesday and Thursday and we cleared put all the plants (most of which we have transplanted), rocks, sleepers, soil and other debris.

And here we have ground zero, awaiting the holes for the footings for the deck. Stay tuned.

Awakening to the dawn chorus

Blissful isn't it. All you city folks thinking how beautifully serene it is to wake to the bushland choir of birdlife, celebrating life by singing. Hmmm well not if you include amongst their ranks a very noisy koel cuckoo which likes to wake at 4.30am. This musical philistine is joined shortly afterwards by the gaggle of channel billed cuckoos (see story below). Recently joining in the fray are a number of cattle that Bill, one of our neighbours, has placed in a paddock near our place. I now understand what 'the cattle are 'lo'ing means.'...it's bloody well short for bellowing...and then there's the cow amongst them that sounds not unlike the T. rex from Jurassic Park. Literally. Hand me that valium....

Rain birds: rain!

The channel billed cuckoos have been extremely raucous over the past few days, irritatingly so just before day break at about 4.30/5am. There must be half a dozen or so that are roosting close to our place and they begin their morning by sounding like they are being collectively strangled. Which, as a matter of fact, I would like to...sometimes. well in the mornings, anyway. They fly inelegantly overhead at various times of the day, announcing themselves well before you actually see them. Maybe they are telling each other where the best nests are to lay their eggs in. If you know what these birds look like you would appreciate what an absolute shock it must be to a raven or currawong or whatever other unfortunate bird becomes the unsuspecting surrogate parent to this large and let's face it, not entirely attractive bird.
Now another name for this species is rain bird, and eevrytime I hear them I think..'agh they must know through some inne mechanism encoded in ancient DNA that it is about to rain...this is good because we need it deperately'...but no...they get it wrong every bloody day.
And it is dry again. We received only 38mm for November and if we don't get 2omm at least in the next week or so we are really going to brown off in a big way. Today Shane and I shifted two of our tree ferns to a new location because they just couldn't cope with the dry winds and harsh sunshine. Rain. Please. Go on.