Cold, Cold, Cold

For all you Northern Hemisphere types, let me remind you that it is the dead of winter here. And it has been cold. Yes, cold! Right here in the midst of all this greenery, ferns, and even some flowers, we have had a few hard frosts. Now I grew up in Washington, DC and we had some cold winters. Not Maine cold, or even North Dakota cold but certainly cold enough.

The difference is that we had central heating, weatherproofed houses, and I must confess, appropriate winter clothing. None of which are available to me here. So I walk around wearing my trusty farm parka indoors and out. The farmhouse you see at the top of your screen is lovely but it is old. There is no weatherproofing. We had some kind of vine growing up through the floorboards in the living room when we first moved in. There is no central heating.  There is a wood burning stove and Dan devotes a great deal of his time to keeping it going at night.

In my rooms I have nothing to complain about (although that won't stop me). I have a portable heater and stay comfy inside. Its just going out that is problemmatic. I also worry about the pregnant sheep. They seem fine. They are still bunking in the horse stalls and Dan has carried water in for them at night so they don't have to venture out. And they don't. You should see the poo palace in the mornings after they leave for breakfast.

Still, it has its upside. I shovel up the poo infested straw and lay it in the garden beds. The strawberries are thriving despite the weather. I have mulched in this powerful straw and surrounded them with large stones (to reflect heat) and the hard frosts haven't stopped them at all. They are even flowering.

We are still trapping possums down by the red, red barn but up here in my garden not so much. I guess the lower paddock possum is a hardier breed. The cold and rain don't bother him and off he goes to the nearest trap. The house possums are a cannier breed and are waiting out the weather somewhere in the bush.

Did I explain that half of Dan's farm is 'bush'? That means unspoiled forest and undergrowth to us. It also means that it is protected and cannot be touched, cut, or cultivated by law! I still wrestle a bit with that concept. You bought a 40 acre farm, 20 acres of which you can't use. You have no control over its usage or in this case non-usage. To me it seems that the country has protected land that Dan gets to pay for and I guess take care of (fire, etc.). I don't quite understand but what do I know? I'm just a doddery old American trying to adjust to life down under (way down under).