It's Raining, it's Pouring...

We have been experiencing the most extraordinary weather since the beginning of 2016. Blazingly hot, interspersed with unexpected blasts of reasonably substantial rain. In the Wheatbelt during summer, we consider ourselves lucky if we have the odd thunderstorm to wet the parched ground.

The "average" rainfall to the end of April is about sixty-five millilitres for Beverley. This time last year, we were stoked to be just a little below that figure. So far, we have had one hundred and eighty millilitres for this year. That is only twenty millilitres under the entire rainfall for 2010, the driest year on record.

The Avon River, usually pretty dry until May, has been flowing since January. We have suffered from repeated invasions of B52 sized mosquitoes as a result. Sitting outside has been somewhat hazardous for our health, as the painful stinging of the nasty little buzzing creatures has been tiresome. We have had to resort to using lashings of insect repellent in order to enjoy the beautiful evenings.

Are the farmers overjoyed with all this rain? I should bloody well hope so...as the ground moisture will be marvellous for seeding. Knowing the temperament of some farmers, they will still be dissatisfied. Summer rain causes weed growth and autumn rain interferes with their burning regime. There is absolutely no such thing as an entirely happy farmer...

Today, the sky looks a little bit lighter. Or maybe I've just become accustomed to the gloomy skies.The forecast is suggesting a return to fine weather by Thursday. And we all believe the weatherman, don't we?!

Unexpectedly..

If in doubt...

enjoy...

and keep calm!

Weather is looking a tad more like normal April weather!

Flying Out the Door.

I have always loved reading the comic strip "Dagwood". Initially, I would burst into peals of laughter at the mere mention of Dagwood and Blondie's family name - Bumstead. The innocent humour of myself when I was young. Later, I came to appreciate and enjoy the parallel realities of their lives and mine.

Probably, my favourite recurring situation was Dagwood, late for work, briefcase chockers, tie flying, shoes untied, charging straight into Mr. Beasley, their postman. Both of them would be knocked over and the ensuing scene resembled a catastrophe of jumbled letters, Dagwood's briefcase disgorging its contents to the universe and both characters flat on the ground with stars spinning around their heads.

This theme runs recurrently in our lives. The most unpunctual couple on the planet resides at the House that Rocks. Which is quite easy in some ways. For example, we rarely growl at each other for running late. There is no point as we really are as bad as each other. Sometimes, I am quite surprised we ever actually get anywhere on time.

This morning was a perfect example of one of my almost on time escapades. Waking with a feeling of dread at a quarter to nine, I realised we'd forgotten to put the bins out for the garbage collectors. I could hear the unmistakable roar of the Shire truck approaching. Bolting out of our warm bed, and irritating Madame Cat no end, I pulled on my jarmies, slippers, a particularly fetching short cardigan and hurtled out the front door.

Mission accomplished. Bins by the road before the garbos arrived. Next on the agenda was rewashing the load in the washing machine. This is a most frequent chore. I enthusiastically undertake mountains of washing on any particular day, only to fail to get all of the clothes on the line. Hence, the neglected blob of wet washing sits forlornly in the machine until I take pity, pull up my socks and wash the load again. Which I did this washing. And we actually hung this lot out once the cycle had finished...what a relief!

Ten-fifteen had come and gone. Bollocks. I still had banana bread to make. Luckily, Bas and Pascou weren't awake yet. I attacked the cooking quite efficiently and slid the mixture into the oven at ten forty-five. I had been washing up as I went along, so I left the minimum soaking.

I grabbed clothes, sandals and earrings and rushed into the bathroom. Ten minutes later, I emerged, scrubbed, dried, creamed and dressed. I picked up my computer bag, flung it over my shoulder as I left the House that Rocks.

Flying out the front door, I half expected to collide with Mr. Beasley! And I was only ten minutes late to the East End Gallery.

Jumping in the Deep End...

We appear to have hit the jackpot, again.  Not quite forty-eight hours ago, we picked up our latest HelpXers from Perth Airport. Basile and Pascaline had just survived twenty-two hours of flying time...By the time we arrived at the House that Rocks and gave them something to eat, they had been awake for twenty-seven hours.

Yesterday, they slept until mid afternoon. We just had time to take them to the bank and open accounts for them. Then I asked at the bottom pub if they had any paid work going. The kids are keen to earn some money as well as help us. The dream is to buy a car and travel around the Great Southern Land for the next ten or eleven months.

Last night, they applied for Tax File Numbers online and printed off their resumes. Bas knew more about my printer than I do...

This morning they received a favourable response from the pub. This is to be confirmed on Saturday. As well, I have lined them up as flag wavers at the Motocross track on Sunday. Cash in hand and lunch - brilliant. If all goes well, they will have paid work during the week and can help us on the weekends.

Today, they have begun helping Michael clear out the workshop. They have been introduced to a red-back spider and a juvenile dugite close up. Both creatures were dispatched promptly, which caused Pascaline to flee momentarily into the Gallery. I am sure she will become used to this kind of action soon enough.

They are working like navvies. They are enthusiastic, energetic and eager. What a combination. And to top it all off, they are going with Michael to look at a car this afternoon to see if it is suitable for their needs. They are so fantastically happy with their stay so far and we are thrilled for them.

Methinks it's time to open a bottle of champagne tonight.

Stay tuned for Bas and Pascaline's next adventure!

Some cool dude prior to arriving in Perth...

Paris to Amsterdam...

Amsterdam to Abu Dhabi

Abu Dhabi to Perth...

Pascaline on the eve of their Great Adventure.

We're from the Government...

...and they should be here to help us. Except that sentiment appears to be sadly lacking in many politicians, not just here in Australia.

Another extraordinary day in the Big Smoke yesterday. Our main task was to pick up our French backpackers who were arriving after twenty-two hours flying. Before that, I  needed to touch base with my orthopaedic surgeon, the Boy Wonder, to get the big tick of approval post-op after my shoulder and wrist surgery.

He was running rather late in his clinic. Not to worry as we had plenty of time. And there was plenty to just sit and think about. And I had a book as well.

The media were full of the Panama Papers and its ramifications. Did the fact I wasn't surprised at this expose meant I considered the well-off to be corrupt, sneaky and immoral? Which is unfair in the extreme. However, when the Prime Minister of Australia has money stashed in tax havens, what does that actually say about him? That the tax system in this country is unfair? That he's a greedy bastard? That he doesn't give a fig for the rest of us? That people like Mr Turnball treat the tax system of this country with contempt? Or that he is entitled (that word again) to take advantage of any legal tax minimisation (or avoidance) scheme?

I pondered these ideas as I waited. Eventually, the Boy Wonder launched into his office to see me. There was really nothing to discuss about my recovery. As ever, he had performed  minor miracles on my long-suffering shoulder and wrist.

General discussion followed. We talked about injuries to Education Assistants like me. He described being an Education Assistant in the same breath as a skateboarder or a horse rider. He said he had "thirty or forty" education assistants on his books.

I was gobsmacked. This, ladies and gentlemen, is what happens when indiscriminate cuts are made to Education. Or for any industry, for that matter. Our children are being injured or are injuring us. Because we don't have enough trained staff to care for children with disabilities in schools. Let alone, meaningfully educate  and support them.

The government is not here to help us, I have concluded. Otherwise, they would overhaul the tax system, so all of us pay our fair share of tax. And properly fund education, health, community services, aged care and all those other areas that are deemed a "burden".

They think in terms of three years. They appear to have no interest in the electorate unless they see a populist cause. From what I can see, politics is all about power.

And I am disgusted...

How much money do you actually need to have, Prime Minister?

Taking the mickey out of the rest of us.

This company, which is in charge of our offshore detention centres, is linked to the Panama Papers. What DO they have on our government...?

Beginnings

April heralds in the burning period in and around Beverley. With the heat of summer fading, farmers and townies alike are setting fire to paddocks, rubbish piles and downed trees. Many of the surrounding properties still burn their fields prior to seeding. I'm not sure if the reason is to remove weeds or make the ground easier to plough or add the ash to the earth. Whatever the rationale behind the fires, there is often a spectacular nightly glow around Beverley, a reflection of all the clearing.

Those in town take to burning with a vengeance as well. For example, Lorna, who lives next door at Freedom Hollow had three or four fires on the go yesterday, the smoke rising slowly into the air all around.

Which is when we sometimes have problems. Unless there is a breeze of sorts, the smoke hangs in a pall over town, making life miserable for those like Michael who have respiratory issues. Tonight we have had to close up the house to keep the smoke out. As the day had been hot, we turned on the air conditioning. The cool air reacted with Michael's airways, causing him to cough and splutter. So, no air conditioning. We would have loved to have thrown open the house, but the smoke had not yet dissipated.

Fortunately, this situation is always only temporary. Within the next few days, all the burning will have been carried out and brisk breezes will blow the remnant smoke away.

Just in time for our latest HelpXers to join us. Basile and Pascaline, a young French couple will land in Perth from Abu Dhabi in the early afternoon. We are unsure about their level of English. Some of Basile's emails have taken a bit of guesswork. We are sure, as with Madlen and Simon, that their English will gallop away as they become more familiar with the language.

We expect very little from them on the first day. We imagine they will be quite exhausted, so I am planning to slow cook a rabbit (thanks to the Moads) whilst we are in Perth. Then they can unpack a bit, learn about the house, eat and probably retire pretty early.

Their primary purpose is to assist Michael. His workshop at the Gallery needs clearing sorting and reorganising. Then twenty years of steel, tools, bits and bots and found metal objects have to be moved from the home sheds to the Gallery workshop. Then the home sheds will need clearing and sorting.There is no way Michael could handle this on his own. This means when we finally sell the house, part of the move will have already been accomplished.

We are unsure how long Basile and Pascaline will stay with us. We just hope they have a really positive experience with us at the beginning of their Working Holiday Visa stay in Australia.

Ignition lines in the paddock...

paddock view...

fire at sunset.

Abu Dhabi International Airport - inside...

and outside.

The viewing platform at Perth Airport.

Let's hope Basile and Pascaline are as happy as these two backpackers!

The Myth of the "Boring" Country Town.

Heavenly Beverley lies in the Avon Valley, about one hundred and thirty kilometres east of Perth. We are a reasonably sized town, with about a thousand residents in Beverley itself and another seven hundred or so within the Shire. Exact numbers are not easy to calculate - elderly people tend to be moving on and are replaced by young families, active retirees and escapees from the Big Smoke (like us). Not to mention the population written on the Shire signs hasn't changed in over five years!

There are almost forty Shires within the Wheatbelt, each with their share of small, medium and larger towns.The Wheatbelt itself is a dynamic agricultural district, and farms are branching out into growing other crops as the changing climate has reduced the annual rainfall. And behind the scenes, tourism is growing into a major player. A quick scratch of the surface often reveals fantastic history and stories galore of any town visitors may care to visit.

We have a dream of a series of artisan trails right through the Wheatbelt - for every town to have its individual gallery or giftshop or studio or craft centre. Or for artists to work together in a collaborative way within a town to enhance tourism potential for us all. In Beverley, we are so lucky to have two galleries, a studio, craft markets and a splendid outside theatre. When there is a particular event in town, we are well-served to promote each other. Then we can all benefit from the swell of guests over that day or weekend.

And as for Beverley, the list of activities available for locals or visitors is extraordinary. As cricket, tennis, bowling and swimming activities are winding up with the advent of autumn, off road autocross and motocross are just beginning. As is pony club, footy, badminton, netball and golf.  The gym, line dancing and the over-fifty exercise group keep those active sorts on their toes. The Dead Finish Museum has begun its opening season. Quilting, samba and bridge are other options. Beverley has both ladies' and men's darts for the keen-eyed and the accurate.

Concerts and live music are available in the pubs, at the Platform Theatre and in the Town Hall. The Show towards the end of August usually signals the beginning of spring. Then, of course, we showcase the Beverley Heroic, a full weekend devoted to bicycles and racing and outrageous costumes. There are different categories and fun for everyone.

The reason most country towns appear to be "boring" is to prevent a mass exodus from the metropolitan areas. I have never felt lonely in Beverley from day 1. Although really good friends take some time to cultivate, the good-natured and welcoming attitude of most inhabitants of this terrific country town has shone through from the very beginning.

Take last night. I went to a Partylite Candle evening at the Moads. Becky, the hostess with the mostess, was ably assisted by Val, let down by Cory (!) who failed to bring the fairy bread and Ethan who provided the comic relief. Jo, the Partylite consultant, was informative, casual and very friendly - typical Beverley. We had a particularly enjoyable evening and the best news was that none of us had far to drive home.

Today, we are back in the East End Gallery. We have had a number of guests and lots of favourable comments. This is our last free weekend for a while as social events are filling our calendar. Then we have the Anzac Day long weekend to finish April.

I'll let you know if I am ever bored....!

A Snapshot of Beverley...

The Dead Finish Museum - open March to November - Sundays and by appointment

The Art Deco town hall

outside deck for diners at The Red Vault

Street view of the Red Vault

The Avon River

Yenyening Lakes from County Peak

and introducing the quiet and conservative Moad family!

It's All Happening!!!!

When I was a child, growing up with three older brothers in Queensland in the 1960s and early 1970s, summer was cricket on the telly. By the time I was nine years old, I was utterly proficient in the precise art of pouring beer, lighting my second brother's stinking cigars and watching the cricket.

Cricket in the early seventies meant the Chappells, Lillie, Marsh, Thomson and Doug Walters, who usually started his innings with a beer and a cigarette. Bill Lawry's cricket career was in its twilight. Which really was unimportant to me as it was his later status as a legendary commentator that mattered to me.

Phrases such as "GOT 'IM, YES!" and "IT'S ALL HAPPENING HERE...at the MCG, SCG, Gabba, WACA or Adelaide Oval" were two of his signature comments. Along with Richie Benaud, Tony Greig and some notable others, their commentary, over six hours a day during a five-day Test, brought both much laughter and agonised groans from the listeners.

Some of my favourite quotes by the great Bill Lawry include -

 It's all happening here, the tension, the drama, the buzz, the atmosphere.

 I love him, I want to boof him. Get him up here.

Got him! Yes.. Piss Off. He’s Out.

Canary yellow? That's Australian gold my friend and don't you f*ckin’ forget it! Canary yellow indeed...



Now I know that some of these exclamations were a tad colourful, but this was the absolute Golden Age of commentators and boy, did they get excited. However, they were rarely biassed in their appreciation of really good cricketers. Eddie McGuire should take note...

Which leads me, somehow, to the actual content of this post. I was reminded of Bill Lawry's famous cry of "It's all happening here" in the East End Gallery today. One of our artists, Jennie Couper,  brought two new paintings - one pastel and one watercolour - into the Gallery for us to hang. This resulted in a reasonably major rewrite (again) of the catalogue and Michael's skills to hang the paintings straight. 

In between were special visitors - three students and a teacher from Beverley District High School. Kaitlin, Ethan and Brandon were well behaved, animated and eager to see the Gallery and choose their favourite picture. They all trooped out to see Michael working and admired his new sculpture - "Starbirth" - still in progress.

Guests kept dropping in. The afternoon passed very pleasantly with insane bursts of frantic activity followed by tranquil periods of nothing much - rather like a Test Match of cricket.

I'll leave that thought with you...

Bill Lawry in full flight...

A marvellous commentary team...

Test cricket at its best.

Meanwhile at Beverley DHS...

there is fun in the classroom...

and a school that works together, with the students, teachers and in the community.