This is the story of us.
Four homes, three moves, two locations and quite possibly a partridge in that bloody pear tree. Actually, an ornamental pear tree was one of the corpses we wept over at the House that Rocks, our first abode in Heavenly Beverley.
We started living together in my dinky little duplex whilst still in the Big Smoke. Needless to say, even that bit was unplanned. We had returned from his complex job at Worsley Refinery, outside Collie. Michael had spent four days in the bleak winter weather outside and developed a bout of pneumonia. So I ordered him into bed and he complied. That's how I knew how sick he was.
Michael's physical and mental health collapsed over the next couple of weeks. We needed a place of our own. Michael longed to leave the Big Smoke, an opportunity he had only dreamed about during previous years.
02.01.2021. The second day of 2021. The second day of a new decade. The second day of a year that I have finally mastered saying "twenty twenty-one" instead of "two thousand and twenty-one". The day my beloved Michael and I began our tenth year of marriage. We are two-thirds of the way through our twelfth year of unexpected bliss. And, at a pinch, a sequence of numbers could also be used as the first name of Elon Musk's next baby.
07.01.2021. Our tenth anniversary of arriving in Heavenly Beverley. We felt like kids playing hookey from school. We had found the House that Rocks with its dust bowl of a garden. We renovated the house, turning it into our home. We transformed the outside into a green and welcoming space.
True, there have been the odd few days of chaos and catastrophe, but I can only count on the fingers of a single hand when I haven't woken up thanking the universe for bringing Michael into my life.
Andy from "Masterchef Australia" could be forgiven for describing my darling man as a "cracker"! I certainly do...
Unfortunately, the sheds at the House that Rocks didn't quite fulfil Michael's quest for his artist's workshop. Too hot in summer, too cold in winter, too dusty in autumn and too many mozzies in spring.
So we bought the Forbes Building in all her glorious/hideous decay and set about renovating her. After eight years we still have problems with damp and leaks and cracking. But the building is not going anywhere. And she is now beautiful. Our dilapidated set of shops are now rivalling DH Forbes' 1929 vision of a stylish and attractive row of premises.
The Hovel - two rooms and a wet area - provided us with a shelter of sorts for the six months after we sold the House that Rocks until we moved into Station House. Washing of dishes was the most unpleasant task for most of our enforced stay. My outdoor sink area was blazing until March and then freezing after May. I fell in love with my internal kitchen and the dishwasher a nanosecond after we gratefully departed the Hovel for the last time, into Station House...
In three and a half years, we have recreated paradise. We stumbled over photos of our potted garden resident under the shade of a large eucalypt at the rear of the building from January 2017. The incy wincy Golden Cane Palm is now over two metres tall. The Frangipani has trebled in size. The Lilly Pilly likewise. The Ficus has become so top-heavy that it falls over in a stiff breeze. A new much larger pot is on the shopping list. We have eight pots of Strawberry plants all producing delicious berries. They began as a single rescued pot from Michael's sister, Sandra. Our main courtyard's perimeter is jammed with as many plants as possible. There is only just enough room for our table and chairs.
The front courtyard has the frame of our old outdoor table perched vertically against the front wall. Most of our plants are behind the picket fence to protect them from the fiercest of the Wheatbelt elements. Two Chinese Tallow trees and one riotous pot of Seaside Daisies are hardy enough to be on the outside, along with a single garden bed of tough-as-nails Gazanias.
The final rear courtyard is in shade most of the day. After an initial struggle, the Crepe Myrtles are booming and covered in pink flowers. Cottage garden plants line the fence with the neighbouring Morning Glory vine loving our watering and giving us a vertical green border.
After six very long months, Michael's hand and wrist have finally allowed him to return to his beloved metal sculpture. "A Miner's Gamble" and "Discarded Dreams 2" are above the fireplace in the main Gallery. "Flowers" was sold to Michael's brother. And his agricultural mandala is taking shape. This is a major piece, which hopefully will grace a wall in town. If not on a public building, then on the western side of ours.
Now, we have launched into 2021. What's the plan? Winging it, as ever. Love and laughter. Cuddling and conversation. Living each day the best we can. Since Michael nearly died in April 2014, I take nothing for granted. Starting every morning with a check-in. Holding hands when we walk together.
And just to prove we are still very much the Beverley Hillbillies in our Love Shack, yesterday Michael accidentally shaved off half his moustache with the beard trimmer. Thus, he was forced to complete a highly unlikely process and become clean-shaven for the first time in ten years... I haven't stopped laughing yet and every time I look at his face, I am momentarily overwhelmed by the his naked lips!
Happy new 2021. Stay tuned...
Michael and Ruby autumn 2009...
Michael and Kate winter 2009
Our paradise.
