Spring has sprung in Heavenly Beverley.

Spring has come earlier than usual to the House that Rocks. We have had above average temperatures right through August. Our deciduous trees and shrubs are blooming and budding. The natives have erupted with  spectacular colours - reds, oranges and pinks, whites and blues. The cheerful, nodding daisy impersonators, gazanias, are flowering with shades from bright yellow to deepest red. I have taken courage in hand and planted vulnerable new season seedlings, hoping they have enough shelter in case of a cold snap.

Frost is still a strong possibility. The keeper of the garden, our ancient mulberry, has not sprouted its first leaf as yet. It won't do so until we've seen the last of the frost. A very clever tree, our mulberry. So, I doubt the really warm weather is here just yet. We are quite glad of that - last summer was the hottest on record. We had six months of some real scorchers and we see no reason why this coming summer won't follow suit.

Thankfully, we invested in a absolute life saver last spring - our above ground pool. At 3.6 metres across, the pool is the perfect size for us to cool off on hot evenings. The water level comes all the way up to my thighs, but when I sit down, I'm submerged up to my chin.

We are currently considering an air conditioner for our bedroom. We have used fans for the last four summers, but they are not quite cutting it. Our external bedroom wall faces west and gets very very hot. And Michael is still having issues with his body thermostat, with sweating making him sleepless and restless at night. Whether his symptoms pass in time or not, the luxury of having a cool bedroom to sleep in is looking very attractive. Let's face it, we deserve a bit of soft living!

Green is everywhere. And there will be more green after the thirty one millilitres we had yesterday. That may not sound much to people living elsewhere. But we live in a Mediterranean climate and four hundred millilitres of rain or thereabouts is a good year. With the dry heat of our summer approaching, we are delighted at every drop of rain we get.

From my point of view, here are the pros and cons of springtime in Heavenly Beverley.

Pros -

• open windows and doors. Fresh air removes the smell of "son" in guest bedroom.
• thawed toes. Icy toes seem heavier.
• less layers of clothes. Deletes the need to take off clothes at night when we light up the tile fire.
• washing drying in the sun. Just love the smell of air dried towels.
• more daylight - to potter in the garden.
• less morning fog - good to see where we're going!

Cons -

• blowflies. No other explanation necessary.
• B52 sized mosquitoes. See above.
• weeds. Including double gees the size of giant squid.
• whipper snippers. Michael came in yesterday looking like the Incredible Hulk!

Spring is fantastic. We have yet to start the chore of watering to keep the garden alive. We have yet to feel the blast of full summer heat. Physical work is still pleasurable. The weather is changeable. We don't have the chance to get bored with the weather as the cold fronts are still blasting through, but are quickly replaced by glorious days. And this cycle repeats.

Michael's birthday is on this coming Thursday. Much loved by all of us, he signifies spring. He is bright and alive and energetic and enthusiastic. After the bleakness of his life threatening illness in autumn, his recovery is one of my reasons for being. I am hoping that as spring progresses, Michael will keep getting better and better. Totally well, which I think he has not been for a very long time.

I love summer very much, but spring in Heavenly Beverley is pretty good this year.

Roll up! Roll up! It's Show Time!

Yesterday was Heavenly Beverley's agricultural show. An absolutely brilliant day, judging by the reaction of everyone who attended.

For me, the show signifies the end of winter, the promise of budding trees and flowers, baby birds and animals, the glorious yellow blast of canola and the revitalisation of our garden after the cold and the damp.

And I love the Beverley show, which is a huge community event. Every year, the show gets better and better, which is pretty amazing for a country town the size of ours. The Agricultural Society has a tiny organising committee and they have done a fabulous job again.

This year, the joint was jumping from Thursday onward. First were the stall holders arriving, followed by all the caravans, RVs and campers. Saturday morning saw traffic jams on the main drag, a queue (unheard of!) to the main gate, stalls galore and people. People were everywhere. We entered the show ground (our town oval) and prepared to enjoy ourselves!

There was something for all visitors. We were greeted by a kilted bagpipe band the minute we had our entry tickets. The Exhibition Hall was bulging with every conceivable display. Cakes, paintings, home brew, craft, photographs, flower arrangements and kids' creations were viewed with much enthusiasm by the crowd. Stalls offered visitors all items from soaps to whipper snippers, tea towels to backpacks, tractors to garden seedlings and hardware supplies to earrings.

There were vintage cars, vintage machinery and even a vintage caravan. There were animals of course - sheep, sheepdogs, horses, a donkey and an Old McDonald's Farm. There were showbags for the young and young at heart, fabulous physical rides and activities, face painting and wine tasting.

The food vendors offered cuisine from Argentina, China, Greece and every country in between. The volunteers in the sports' centre made tasty sandwiches and cakes. They were all run off their feet. I have no doubt that all the stall holders would have slept well last night.

We wandered from one end of the show to the other. We bought lunch (delicious chicken wraps), snacked on fresh donuts, bought plants, wine, earrings and half a dozen different hardware items. We chatted with stall holders and friends, enjoyed the atmosphere, and left exhausted. Later, we joined Yvonne and her friend Ellen for dinner and watched the spectacular fireworks, which brought the Beverley show to its conclusion for another year.

Everyone we spoke to at the show and in town had noted the friendliness of Heavenly Beverley. We met people from all over Australia. The hardware stall holders had come from Queensland and were delighted at the warmth of the welcome. I am certain they will return next year.

As will we.

Kate and Michael's Fourth Trip - Foreword July 2013

We’d missed going away in April, due to circumstances beyond our control. We’d also missed going away in April and October 2012!!! Enough was enough. Our last trip, in October 2011, had become a distant dream.

Michael was exhausted, having worked to renovate his beloved Forbes Building at a relentless pace since July 2012. My style had been severely cramped since breaking my ankle in April 2012.  I’d also had to remove Alex from unsatisfactory (that’s putting it mildly!) accommodation and find him a new home. 

This story had ended happily ever after, with my boys sharing a lovely unit in Yokine, central and close to shops and transport.

I had become stuck on the treadmill of home, work and trips to Perth. I had spent all this year playing catch up, never finishing the improvements I’d longed to complete. I needed a break. Michael needed a break. We needed to have a break!

And then, I started a joke… (apologies to the Bee Gees). During a warm, lazy autumn lunch with our friends Charl and Alex at their Perth home, we hatched a plan to escape to the Goldfields during the July school holidays.

Alex, a Scot, had always only endured the blast of Perth’s heat and was unconvinced that anywhere in Western Australia ever became cold. She also had an ulterior motive for escaping Perth. After 35 years as a school teacher, she was retiring! Feeling she would be at a loose end, the idea of a Goldfields trip seemed quite attractive.

Charl, a charming South African by birth, had been Michael’s friend for many years. He had been out camping with Michael in obscure locations, had delusions of grandeur of becoming a master blacksmith (!) and loved the isolation of the bush, any bush. He immediately put his hand up to join a Goldfields expedition in winter.

Michael was exceeding apprehensive. He had vivid memories of bitterly cold windswept mine sites, made even more dreadful by grey misty drizzle. He had never been in the Goldfields in winter by choice.

As a result of committing to this trip, we realised we needed extra thermals, warmer sleeping bags and enough cold weather gear to join Douglas Mawson in the Antarctic! These we purchased, along with a queen sized camp bed and self inflating mattress. Unbeknown to us at the time, the stretcher and mattress proved to be the absolutely the best equipment we could have bought!

I also revolted at the idea of preparing and cooking frozen meals to take away. Too much effort and too much space. So dehydrated meals were researched, sought and bought – I was after easy, quick and tasty whilst creating minimal dirty dishes.

Given the fact we were all old farts, a bit of luxury was very attractive. Slumming was out; easing us into holidaying into a potential fridge was in. Hence 4 out of our 9 nights were booked interior accommodation – the Gold Rush Motel in Coolgardie, Hoover House in Gwalia (for 2 nights!) and Views on Hannans in Kalgoorlie. We felt that if the weather was kind, some camping could even be pleasurable!

This trip was the first I had totally organised. Usually, Michael decided where we would go and how we would get there. Since this would probably be the one and only time Alex would experience the Goldfields, before their move to Tasmania, I considered a tour loosely following the Golden Quest Discovery Trail would show her the best of this amazing country.

The last weeks before we left on our Goldfields adventure, my weather research had become very contradictory. This winter, our third in Beverley, had been very dry and very cold. We had experienced night after night of temperatures at or below zero; we had watched a bewildered Ruby the cat trying to drink from a frozen bird bath early one morning in our front garden. In contrast, the Goldfields seemed positively tropical! Were we going for a trip to a freezer or somewhere far more benign?

And thus, Kate and Michael turned into tourist guides!

The Latest Improvement to the House that Rocks.

In my next life, I'm coming back as my dog. Not anybody's dog - my dog. I still have to work out the logistics of that idea.

The 3 Stooges live the Life of Riley. They are loved, fed, soothed, cuddled, placated and have cost us extortionate amounts of money.

Sascha is currently the $7500 dog. At the ripe old age of 11, she has survived 2 bouts of cancer, 2 lots of chemotherapy over 24 months in total and a benign lympoma that was cutting off the circulation to her groin. She has lumps and bumps, passes copious amounts of noxious gases, hyperventilates during thunderstorms and pushes the covers up with her nose in order to plant a cold wet nasal prod in the middle of Michael's warm back. During diagnosis for her last cancer, one vet recommended euthanasing her. We sought a second opinion. Our original Perth vet successfully operated on Sascha, removing her spleen and all suspect tissue. The ensuing 12 months was pretty tough, but the terminal Weimaraner is now better, fitter and more joyous than ever.

Ruby has had some perilous episodes as well. Her nose gets her into repeated trouble, due to the brain bypass she suffers whilst on a scent. We rarely let her off the lead on walks, due to her propensity for vanishing with no warning. She has consumed over ripe cocos palm nuts leading to gastritis, attempted to electrocute herself chomping on a live lead, consumed something enormous after sneaking away from us and thrown up all over the living room when she returned home. Her favourite food, after food, is hard plastic. Pegs, suitcase wheels, drawer handles, wall plugs, door stops, bath plugs and tupperware have all suffered irreparable harm. Due to her complete lack of common sense, we have to move her into the shade in summer, lest she suffer a repeat of the sunstroke that saw her overnight in hospital on  IV fluids!

Pip is just a ratbag. A rescued dog, he had been beaten by an abusive owner, dumped in the pound and been rehomed with a foster carer all before he arrived to live with me. From the first day, Pip has shown impeccable taste. He adored Sascha on sight, enjoys the odd spot of chasey with the cat, occasionally abandons Sascha to sleep with Ruby and Michael (Pip's Big Daddy) is his knight in shining armour.One of his real gifts in recognising the rotter. I should have trusted Pip sooner when he bit an extremely unsavoury man I was seeing. His only less than redeeming characteristic is his tendency to bite anyone (including familiar friends) if they try to enter our back yard through the gate. Bugger the bigger dogs, beware of the Jack Russell.

And so we come to their latest acquisition of comfort. The dogs have all slept on a variety of mats, dog beds, blankets, and surreptitiously our bed when they think nobody is looking. Living in a small house has meant their sleeping arrangements are messy and intrusive. There had to be a better solution.

Michael and Guy (drummer, handyman, designer, manufacturer and great friend) devised a cunning plan. The result appeared in our laundry this afternoon. Pip, Ruby and Sascha have a deluxe double storey canine condominium, an up market doggie donga resplendent under a newly fitted laundry bench. Ruby has already tested the upper storey for comfort and given it the paws'up. Sascha and Pip have yet to try it out, but that will come soon.

And stuff them, if they don't like their new bed, it looks good enough for overflow visitors to the House that Rocks!

A "Short" History of Our shops - an Update

Michael's mojo has returned. Nearly 4 months after he almost died, he is feeling fit enough to resume work on his beloved shops. Shop 3 is next to experience his renovation skills.

There has been another reason for his renewed activity. Marlene, proprietor extraordinaire of "East End Studio", who inhabits Shop 2 needs more space. She is holding a weekend upcycling workshop on the 23rd and 24th of this month. With 18 participants attending this workshop, Shop 2 was never going to be big enough. This will be her first workshop in hopefully,  a long line of workshops. I believe Marlene is that talented an artist. 

Hence, Shop 3 has been attacked with enthusiasm. Spider webs have gone. Surfaces have been dusted and vacuumed. Cracks have been filled and walls have been smoothed. Plaster has been added and sanded. Just about all surfaces have been painted with primer. Archways have been closed. Today, the pressed tin ceiling came alive, changing from a faded, sallow white to a blast of exotic red. I stood in awe this afternoon at Michael's achievements thus far.

The archways and door will be a deep, diplomatic blue. The walls will be next - to be painted Milk White - a wonderful, creamy, warm, buttery colour that glows in sunlight. Lastly will be the concrete floor, to change from a hideous blue that is also flaking off - choice! - to a ripe apricot tinged sandstone.

Then, on to Shop 4, the East End Gallery. We have an ABN and we have a business name. We have such dreams. An tremendous amount of work stands between us and those dreams. The floor has to be lifted and reinforced with steel beams. Then the floorboards are relaid. The enormous, and I mean enormous cracks filled. A fireplace repaired and rebuilt. The cornices repositioned. The ceiling and walls sealed and repainted. The floor sanded and stained. 

We hope to open the East End Gallery on December 1. Who knows whether we'll achieve this ambition. Judging from the smile that hasn't left Michael's face since we were granted our gallery's name, I think anything is possible!

Shop 3 - a work in progress!

Hello fatheads!

Red, an Eastern King parrot, is the latest addition to our menagerie. We inherited him from Lorna (of Freedom Hollow fame) about 18 months ago. She had just  booted her 3rd husband out and had limited time to feed, nurture and rear all her birds and animals. She asked us if we would hand raise a juvenile parrot as she really didn't have the time to spend with the bird. She also said we could split the proceeds if either of us sold him.

We called him Red due to the uncertainty of his sex. Eastern King parrots take some time to determine whether they are male or female. Girls have distinctive green heads; boys' heads turn a vivid scarlet. Red has taken a LONG time to show his true identity. Now his sex is becoming apparent. He is a boy.

He is still a youngster and a mimic. He has picked up some choice sayings, such as "hello fatheads", and "birdle" and "sh*#head". Heaven knows where he picked up such bad language. He always looks surprised when we ask him for a kiss, but sometimes returns one.

I never really thought that smaller birds were intelligent. I have always loved and admired the big birds of prey, but budgies, weiros or parrots? And as far as chooks, ducks and geese go, I have always associated the term "birdbrain" with these not so intellectual feathered giants of the universe.

But Red? The words - cunning, naughty, smart and resourceful - spring to mind. He is rather like a flying Beagle. He chews anything plastic, enjoys a jingling nibble of my earrings, tips photographs on the floor, poohs indiscriminately, wanders under the table and enjoys sitting in the Christmas tree!  He flies in a very lopsided way and always lands either awkwardly or heavily, often in very undignified positions. I have taken to leaving the toilet lid firmly shut so he doesn't fly in and drown himself by mistake!

He currently resides in our laundry, makes an awful mess of his seed, bathes in his water and generally tries to be a nuisance. He will take up residence in our gallery in summer; all the better to abuse our patrons! Until then, he will remain in our house.

Red has fitted into the House that Rocks with gusto. As I'm writing this post, his cage is open and he is sitting on the perch cackling, whistling and chatting. The other animals regard him in different ways. Sascha tolerates him, even when he cleans between her toes. Pip and Ruby just want to eat him. The cat appears to ignore him, but I do not trust her at all. I look forward to joining him in our gallery once he and I become the welcoming committee.

And we will not be selling him.

Kate and Michael's Third trip- Foreword October 2011

After the least amount of planning (almost none!), for this latest expedition, we finally departed from our happy little home in Beverley. Eighteen months had passed since we had last ventured out to our beloved Goldfields.

And what an eighteen months!!! We had survived an avalanche of testing, unpredictable times. Michael’s physical and mental health broke down in June 2010. I moved him into my home – such a romantic way to begin living together! So, there we were, squeezed into my tiny duplex, along with my young adult children Vanessa, Callum and Alex, the three dogs and the cat! Eventually, I’d had enough of the squabbling, queuing for the toilet and the shower and the lack of any real privacy.

We’d given up on our dreams of either running the Kookynie Pub or restoring the Old Junction Hotel at Neergabby. Too hard, too expensive and Michael and I needed to simplify our lives, not complicate them any further.

The solution was surprisingly easy in the end. Trawling through the internet one evening, I stumbled across the website for Beverley in the Avon Valley. We went house hunting with (Captain) Helen Stubing, the local real estate agent, who worked out our requirements in about two minutes. And with Helen’s help, we found our home, the House that Rocks, at the end of 2 cul de sacs next to the Avon River reserve. My duplex ended up selling in a flash and suddenly we had to be out of Perth  on 7 January 2011.

My boys went to live with their father and Vanessa found supported accommodation
on with three elderly ladies. Of course, both these moves created high drama, resulted in unforeseen catastrophes, the odd tantrum and much gnashing of teeth!

Nine months later (like birth, really!) they had all flown solo. Callum and Alex wore out their welcome and were instructed to find alternative digs. Alex was so proud to be living on his own in a little flat. Callum secured a room in a share house and entered a new phase in his life. Vanessa fled the old ladies and moved in with a retired nurse and an ancient Jack Russell close to the train line.

Living separately and in the real world, my children metamorphosed into courteous, loving and communicative young adults without most of the angst. They forged a closer relationship with Michael and I and we have regularly seen them or spoken to them. Most remarkably, they began getting on much better, even talking to each other!

Along with a change of address was rationalization of the vehicles. Sunny, the gutsy, canary yellow Getz was bought by a local lady, who drove her hard and fast. Just the way Sunny liked it! Oscar the station wagon remained and we purchased Kermit the Jackaroo 4WD from a Beverley local.

Our attempts to depart on another Goldfields expedition were thwarted – twice. Obstacles such as family issues and renovations, procrastination and pontification about money were annoyingly regular. Finally, I decided we were just going and that was that.

The Monday before we were to leave, we took Kermit to Goldy Motors. He was only running on three cylinders and there was no guarantee that the mechanics would be able to get him right in time. By Wednesday, the outstanding service team had the fourth cylinder operational. I finished work on the Thursday. On Friday, the marvelous Yvonne arrived to house sit.

And then we started planning!

We put off leaving for an extra day for a variety of reasons. Zelda and Meredith joined us just for the weekend. The Eagles had the temerity to rocket into the preliminary final, only to be comprehensively outplayed by Geelong. We were still pretty happy after the Eagles’ wooden spoon position the previous season. We needed to pack as much gear as we could and leave. So, we had NO satellite phone, NO real itinerary and were boldly taking Kermit where he hadn’t been before!  

To Infinity and Beyond! Apologies to Buzz and Woody.

Introducing the 3 Stooges and Her Majesty, the Cat.

Some people have blended children when they get together; we have blended animals. When Michael and I met for our first "date" at the Whiteman Park dog exercise area, we had 3 dogs between us. The idea of a dog date was to meet somewhere neutral, talk in a relaxed environment and see if our dogs were compatible.

 I still remember that day very well. The weather was bitterly cold and we were rugged up. Jeans, jumpers, coats and scarves. Absolutely no glamour. Michael and I walked around the enclosure slowly and easily, finding out about each other. I was impressed that Michael didn't attempt to touch me or kiss me - that had been a ongoing issue for me on first dates. But spider52 was very different. Lunachick fell in love on the spot. After our walk, we went to lunch at the Whiteman Park cafe, with the dogs.

Sascha, the 11 year old Weimaraner, came into my life as my first marriage was ending. She provided me with an outlet, an escape, unconditional love and a reason for living. I would go running with her on a regular basis, mostly in the bush or along the beach. She would put her big, boofy, grey head into my lap and comfort me when I was unhappy. Later, teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown, she saved me. My addled thinking couldn't cope with the combination of completing suicide and leaving my beloved dog. She was the reason I stayed alive and sought help. I even took her along to my first mental health clinic. They definitely decided that I was crackers on the spot!

Pip, the Jack Russell, was introduced to my household as a companion for Sascha when I went to TAFE to study. The neighbours had informed me that Sascha was howling when I went out. I was living with my children in a little duplex, so another big dog was out of the question. Hence, Pip, a rescue dog who had been brutalized, seemed perfect. He adored Sascha from the minute he clapped eyes on her. The first day Pip was with me, I didn't look at him, I didn't touch him, I didn't engage him in any way as I didn't want to overwhelm him when he had been through so much trauma. The only hassle I have ever had with Pip was his protectiveness of me and later Michael. We often joke that people have to beware of the small dog, not the others.

Ruby, the Beagle, was initially Michael's before she became ours, along with Sascha and Pip. She is a paradox, on the surface vague, vacant and vacuous. Her banal expression - her nickname is Dory (as in "Finding Nemo") - hides a mind like a steel trap, a naughty, mischievous, cunning and cheerful disposition. She is always surprised when she gets into trouble for recycling dog pooh, nicking the Sunday roast or leaving the house without permission. She is the comic relief in our house. She was bought by Michael's previous wife just before she died and his daughter, whose dog Ruby supposedly became, ignored her. In some ways, Ruby saved Michael in a similar way to Sascha saving me.

Added to this crazy canine mix is Ruby (!) who was my cat and has now become Michael's lover. I acquired Ruby the weekend after my marriage ended. I swapped my ex for a cat and in some ways, their personalities were very, very similar. Ruby is haughty, disagreeable, argumentative and aloof. Then, without a moment's notice, she becomes playful and frisky, a tease and a tart, all for Michael's benefit. She usually comes into our bedroom sometime during the night and sleeps hard up against Michael's body, within reach of his stroking hand. She tolerates the dogs, refuses to use the dog door unless she absolutely has to and treats us all mostly with complete contempt. She is utterly the ruler of the House that Rocks.

All our animals have adapted to the move to Heavenly Beverley without any hassles. The dogs have half an acre to lope around, woof, dig and lie in the sun. The cat has an extended territory as we have crown land opposite our house and she roams far and wide. All is well in their worlds. Just like us.

Michael with Ruby, before she became handsome if a trifle fat!

Kate and the 3 Stooges.