Cremona Hillside Farm in Learmonth, Victoria, Australia | Local business

Cremona Hillside Farm

Locality: Learmonth, Victoria, Australia

Phone: +61 447 837 099

Address: Corner Addington and Eastern Peake roads 3352 Learmonth, VIC, Australia

Website: https://youcamp.com/view/cremona-hillside-camping

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24.01.2022 The latest Epistle.

23.01.2022 FFFF 80 How things emerge When I had a well-paying job I had a gardener. His name was Nick the Greek and we became very good friends. Nick had many wise say...ings and one I remember well he said that his father had taught him. . The stones underneath, they always come to the top of the earth how is that? . Because we have always lived in rather old houses, we have seen many things emerge from the earth- crockery, glass that sort of thing. Here on this farm with a house built in 1856 of stone milled on the mount , there are endless possibilities for things to emerge when one is shovelling , or the pig turns the earth over , or the bull digs his dustbath, or the horse scratches at the earth with his hooves, or we humans rotary hoe a bit. Glass shards of black rum bottle, old fancy barbed wire, broken domestic crockery, slate from the original roof, bricks from garden edgings past, bits of tractor, half a piece of cutlery, horse shoes, blacksmithing equipment, partial rabbit traps, ancient plumbing for water courses designed over a century ago, posts and nails- they have all been found here. I collect the bits of pottery. Things also emerge from the shed or the caravan one has just sold- kitchenalia that was in a B and B we once owned and then stashed in the caravan cupboards in case it came in handy. A souvenir from Holland in the shape of a clog which is a beer bottle opener, T towels celebrating the birth of decimal currency, well-worn green tartan travel rugs. Things used on holidays, forgotten for years. They emerge with memories of wild windy nights in Port Fairy safe in a warm little aluminium caravan, children cosy asleep on the bed converted from the kitchen table. The souvenirs one collected shells used as scoops or soap dishes. Memories of the smell of Mum’s cooking in the saucepan set handed down from Nana, or the sugar bowl Nana’s Nan once used. Often languishing in the back of the cupboard, these objects of domesticity are powerful in their memory making. My interest/ obsession with preservation of the social history of poor and resilient people has led me to be somewhat of a collector. Domestic and rural things used by simple people- surviving, making do and reinventing. I love them. When I hold them, they have secrets and stories and spirits. They do not want to be discarded and dismissed as outmoded or old fashioned. They want to be used- carefully and lovingly and often. I was in the Weekly Times this week- and the photo of me in front of the barn doesn’t look TOO outrageous. They approached me, and it seems I have now started a larger conversation about FRUGAVORING. Which is what my grandparents did- they lived well on very little and were conscious ALWAYS of not spending too much on frivolities. Never went to restaurants, didn’t smoke or drink, and rarely bought the newspaper. Grew their own veggies and preserved fruit. For entertainment they loved the radio and singing around the piano. They prided themselves on making a well brewed pot of tea and serving guests with the good china. My paternal grandmother told risqué stories and laughed loudly. I probably have her sense of humour. My maternal grandfather impressed me as a little girl with playing the mouth organ and the jaw’s harp. My own father did drink (rather a lot) but his favourite entertainment was to sing through the entire hymn book Songs of Praise whilst I played the piano. His rendition of Blake’s And did those feet was particularly emotional and dramatic. Simpler times, but a heap of fun On the FARMING side, I have put the rams in. Radically a week or two later than usual. Alex always put them out on Australia Day with a sort of blessing Happy Australia Day boys. I know that is frightfully non PC now, but it is funny. (And I am genuinely very pleased that truth telling is now taking centre stage about what the invasion has really meant). Apples fall off trees and I gather them for Dolores. The chard is seeding out everywhere (chard is one of the most useful vegetables in the universe, but requires garlic and quite a bit of butter). I am more than a bit excited about the potential fig crop. But they need sun. Most of my FOSSICKING has been done at home again. But I did find a slow cooker which works and has just finished making a chicken casserole with olives and a set of funky retro water glasses on the side of the road. They would have been wonderful in the 1960s caravan which I sold. I didn’t exactly fossick these things- but they welcomed themselves by default into my life- a pink enamel bath with matching cast iron basin and pedestal. Not fashionable at the moment pink, but I have the idea (this is several years away) of an outside bathroom. Taking a dip in the pink bath with a glass of bubbly on a warm moonlit night- near the salvias. Of course this would need to be in a very private place so as not to frighten anyone. I have always dreamt of Matisse bathroom- black and white lino on the floor, deep peppermint green bath with matching basin, red towels. Dancing bright blue nudes on the walls. Matisse didn’t do pink. Also welcomed into my life was a book on cider making. Very useful. I still have trouble fitting my life into the daylight hours dedicated, but this enables me to save things for later. Like reading a lot, or doing fine sewing. When my eyes have adjusted between youthful myopia and the long-sightedness of old age. I reckon I’m nearly there. The astigmatism is ongoing, but heck, the world looks like a Clarice Beckett painting with my glasses off. See more

23.01.2022 Spring philosophy and reflection. For those who don't know FFFF stands for " Farming, Frugavoring, Foraging and Fossicking" .

22.01.2022 This weeks musings.

21.01.2022 The latest news.

20.01.2022 I know there are people who follow this page who are not on my personal page. My beloved husband of 35 years died with great dignity in Gandarra palliative care hospital last Saturday after many stints in and out of hospital. He had prostate cancer which metastasized to many other places. But he survived six years after diagnosis and was farming until a few weeks before he died . My view of death is that it is only corporeal. Nothing can destroy the giant spirit Alex had.... It lives on in the quiet mentoring he did of young people and in the way he gently shared his confident and unshakeable wisdom. I will keep farming as long as I can to honour that. See more

18.01.2022 This week's lunatic ravings

18.01.2022 As usual. The weekly.

16.01.2022 Here again is my weekly update on happenings at Cremona Hillside Farm. #miracleman #amazingmiracle #cancerthoughts #notdeadyet

16.01.2022 The latest epistle and news.

16.01.2022 A year of epistles!!!

15.01.2022 Here is the little story of farm adventures I have been writing each week. for forty one weeks now!! My aim was a year of documentation, and I've nearly made it. #farmdiary #livingsustainably #outsideballarat #smalfarmjourney #goodlife

15.01.2022 Foraging and Frugavoring and Fossicking and Farming- again . #frugavoring #usesforpallets #Donkeys #springissprung #grandchildren

14.01.2022 For those of you who have been hearing me on the radio, here is a little bit of an expansion. I write weekly in my attempt to promote a more open and joyous attitude to what we have here in the country and on this farm. We lead a very simple and happy and frugal life where every day we celebrate the abundance offered to us. During these odd times when the whole notion of capitalism is being challenged ( thank goodness!), we have an opportunity to really rethink how we live personally without greed, as a collaborative community and with gratitude and joy in our short time on this very precious earth. I write a short diary piece every week entitled " Farming, Foraging, Frugavoring and Fossicking". It is intended to be slightly witty, informative and a celebration of a good life. Here is #40.

13.01.2022 FFFF77 The Den of Thieves I am sorry to announce that I have become an accomplice to criminal activity. I am living amongst thieves. I first noticed the outra...geously colourful orchard thieves several weeks ago when they were testing to see if the apples were ripe- which they were clearly not- despite many tests. There are pecked apples all over the ground. Rosellas are beautiful but very obvious. More subtle are the green parrots- they disguise themselves in apricot and plum and mulberry and fig trees. They don’t do as much testing, more camouflaged gluttony. The most unsubtle of all the thieves is Aoife the would- be Wolfhound who grows daily. This little Queen of Hearts stole the tarts I had left on a plate for the shearers. She also demolished half a roast chicken whilst my back was turned and I answered the phone. Her head is not quite bench height yet, but when she stands with her paws on the bench, she has long reach. Enjoyed a left over roast lamb leg which was right at the back. She is totally silent when she steals. We are working on these behaviours. It has been another other very busy week on the FARM with Workawayer Carol cleaning the dairy and the barn loft dormitory before she had to go back to Melbourne. Having the dairy in use again makes me happy- and somehow I imagine the spirit of Alex definitely approving. New milker April the Alpine is forcing cheesemaking again- 5 litres of milk a day most of the time. This generous goat gift came via a friend from goat circles. So now there are four- naughty and highly pedigreed Vianna ( Vinca’s daughter) a little Saanen cross who is totally white called Blanca, the pet wether Nubian known as Toby and the new girl April. Four is enough, and I don’t really want to milk more than two at a time anymore. But it is good to have goat milk again and after three days drinking it my eczema has completely gone. I sold our little Shetland pony because she and the donkeys are not part of the same tribe. She went to a home where she will be loved and appreciated for her gentle personality and companionship with a miniature horse. Sad to see her go, but one has to be sensible. I was also donated some Guinea Fowl. Mine aren’t laying which makes me cross, but I suspect they are either being secret or I have ended up with a lot of males. Hopefully I now have some girls. I love the taste of Guinea- first had it in France and then later here. Finbar was actually quite good at catching them for us. The peahen is laying and I don’t want the fox to disrupt any of the process of hatching and rearing, so after a great deal of swearing the peahen is now caught and relocated to the pheasant pen- totally enclosed. I hope she continues laying. Will try to get her groom in with her. More swearing. A HUGE Pekin drake was donated to me to keep my five girls happy (also donations) and a clutch of Royal Palm Turkey eggs now in incubator. In terms of FRUGAVORING I am still eating what is given to me or I find in the pantry or the bottom of the freezer- two lots of visiting friends donated their post-Christmas overload to me some delicious French cheese and a packet of special Pukka English breakfast tea, a stollen, some date scones and two packets of water crackers. This old friend I had not seen for nearly 30 years and it was as if we just took up where we left off. To be repeated. We laughed and reminisced over a few cuppas. My dear friends who are Russian Orthodox monastics brought their gingerbread house for me to eat my way through. This special Finnish version suffered some collapse after being left near a window to dry and absorbing too much moisture, had to be rebuilt and was accidentally left in the oven after being glued back together with sugar syrup. A slightly wonky chimney gave this twice baked treat a Hansel and Gretel feel. But it tasted fabulous!!. Another mate went ferreting on the mount again and donated more delectable bunny to me as well as a bottle of his famous red. Then another neighbour insisted on giving me some of his black garlic- yummo!! I will have to try this- several weeks slow roasting in a crock pot. I’m firing up the Excalibur dehydrator because another local has Dagen plums. This morning I was given a huge icecream container of loganberries. I reckon almond, ricotta and berry cake sounds pretty good. With cream of course. The goat donor also makes fabulous halloumi which is waiting for me in the fridge. I was given some home- made salami- the best I have ever tasted. This could be something I could get into big time. FORAGING at this time of year begins with elderberries. Because I was otherwise occupied with hospitals etc during elderflower season, I have a lot this year, but there are plenty on roadsides. Elderberry syrup is marvellous on ice-cream but this year I will make jelly to eat with pork or cheese and a sauce called pontack as well as some Elderberry Kir Royale. The lemon verbena is succulent at this time of year, so drying some for teas and perfume, but mostly I use it in cordials. Just discovered it is often put in a martini. Alex’ daughter Mercedes makes the BEST dirty martinishave home-grown brined olives, homemade gin and now the verbena! Vermouth is pretty cheap I also had good luck at my NO DUMPING foraging spot. A whole heap of 78 RPM jazz records which will entertain me when there is no electricity in winter because of a storm and I am having a solo party by candlelight with a wind up gramophone and a pot of soup on the old AGA. More children’s books revealed themselves by the roadside ( a near new edition of Paddington Bear stories) and an Ishka Peruvian woollen cardigan in all the colours of the rainbow. Then a WORKING vacuum cleaner which specialises in pet hair. And a dog bed. Probably same owner. I was then chased by some finger waving moralists who probably took my rego number. I may be arrested. Please visit me in jail and bring supplies. I was lucky enough to be donated two on-top-of-the-stove Fowlers Vacola preservers. If tomatoes ripen I feel a passata coming on. Otherwise it will be fruit. But NOT nectarines!! I totally overdosed on them when my mother had a Fowlers more on the beans side, or apricots. Perfect size for the old Aga when she fires up in early autumn. FOSSICKING at the market I found some bamboo stakes for naming plants. In my mind the vegetable garden is an ordered mini version of Versailles with rare and unusual plants labelled. I also had a very good fossick in a book exchange after donating some and came home with a few more gardening mags. Years ago I kept what I called Dream Books where I glued in and commented upon great ideas I had fossicked out of magazines. I am reviving that tradition because I keep on having more dreams. I still have plans for a grotto near the chapel (this will be made out of a recycled pottery urinal from a Victorian hotel), a still house and a mosaicked brick pizza oven. All the ingredients are there- the urinal has been in waiting for about fifteen years, the still room doubles as a bathroom in the barn and I have a huge basket of broken china rescued from sewers in Geelong. The possibilities are endless. You just have to keep the stuff for long enough. See more

13.01.2022 How it was this week.

13.01.2022 FFFF33 MANY APOLOGIES FOR POST RE our finances ( now deleted) I thought incredibly naively- that I was accessing a government helpline. THANK YOU all who re...sponded so kindly. It was sort of worth it that way. I am now beginning a new relationship with MyGov Well this FFFF begins with a bit of a rant I am afraid. Two things have taken off big time over the COVID 19 ISO thing. One is foraging wild food and asking questions about it on Facebook. Now I have been a forager (of food and everything else) all my life- for sixty years or more. It started because I was a very hungry and underfed child raiding orchards and sucking the honey out of fuchsia flowers and the toffee from peppercorns. Foraging is good and noble (provided you don’t raid too many old orchards), but to forage dangerously and pretend it is because you are starving during this pandemic is totally absurd. Medical services are on high alert not for people foraging and trying deadly nightshade berries (FFS!! ) or unripe kangaroo apple- but for people who are suffering respiratory distress. If indigenous people didn’t eat it, then there is a reason why. Or maybe it takes a GREAT deal of preparation- like being cooked to avoid poisoning for instance. If you want to know about what you can forage to eat- GET A BOOK !!!! I have a huge collection and you are welcome to borrow. It doesn’t matter whether you call it a weed or not or the book does. A plant is a plant. Tim Lowe’s book on weeds is a great resource. So please be wary of becoming a beginner forager of weird stuff. You can get quite sick. I secretly overdosed on oxalis as a child and spent a very sad evening gripping my stomach. I also drank water from a still pond and vomited mosquito larvae for days. The second fetish during this boredom when apparently going for a solo walk, listening to Classic FM or reading a book is too boring for words, is the BAKING craze!! God how much bread and cake and biscuits can one person eat?? Wildly vacillating between keto and carbo- it seems- people are also taking health risks. There is a lot to cook or prepare which is NOT carbo intense or loaded with sugar- like sauerkraut or pesto or baked quinces. So we are not starving. This is NOT a war. We can eat good food and enjoy it without pasting it all over Facebook. Google is very useful. Words like What to do with too many walnuts/quinces/ crabapples /pears/apples etc are good. I often refer to the Life in Mud Spattered Boots recipe collection. Or Fig Jam and Lime Cordial. Both inspirational women. It is also grossly unfair to boast about your food and not share the recipe. Secret family recipes are a smug way of maintaining some sort of hierarchical power. So this week? As usual, the generosity of my neighbours and fellow farmers and foragers and frugavores has been totally amazing. One chap - Glen- made us a HUGE Easter hamper of things from his garden and foragings from over hanging fruit on his walks. Glen is a champion at foraging. A bag of chillies ( now frozen), some chilli sauce , grapes, pears, an Easter egg he won in a hamper , a book on magicians through the ages he found in his shed ( fabulous book!) and a bottle of vitamin C tablets to prepare us for winter. And pork rolls. Now consumed. Glen makes the best pork rolls ever. He cooks them and freezes them so that they are available for snacking. Another farmer neighbour- Bruce- dropped off a huge box of sweetcorn (into soup, freezer and eaten as a veg to accompany meals), some delicious little chat potatoes, more beans and the last of his very sweet red and black striped tomatoes. Tomatoes are always fun because they hybridize and create new varieties. For years, before hipsters discovered grape tomatoes, we grew a self-seeding variety which were clearly a cross between Roma and Tommy Toe . We called them Barkly St because that’s where we lived. The miracle of this week was that my son in law (Mr Fix it extraordinaire) got our rotary hoe going after a clutch issue and then sorted my garlic bed. Next full moon for planting I reckon. When I lived in Maldon and was young and foolish and gung-ho and not so respectful of old wisdom, I had a neighbour called Harry who grew carrots and cabbages for a living. He had about quarter of an acre. He was extremely ancient and wore a leather apron and false teeth that clacked around his shrinking gums when he talked to you. Harry believed in moon planting because he had learnt the art of vegetable cultivation from the Chinese market gardeners at the turn of the century (1900). We always joked that Harry’s carrots were slightly flaccid but incredibly delicious. I tactfully asked him how some of the greengrocers made sure their carrots were stiff. He replied that they were sprayed with kerosene. Harry was a total devotee of organic gardening. I wish I had respected him more and got to know him better. But I was shy of asking older people and arrogant enough to think that his teachings might be a bit old hat. Harry, by the way, also wore an extraordinarily grubby brimmed hat. He lived in a small hut at the back of the block which I assume now has been bought up and built on by Melbourne based weekenders with a fondness for quaint old towns. Donations of knowledge and support and food continue to flow in to our farm. A neighbour seeded the paddock with rye grass as a cover crop and I will over sow with some extra goodies. He also dug holes for posts for a gate. Easter treats included proper hot cross buns (with fruit not choc chips), a rather scrumptious rum fruit cake, and a bottle of very special wine. Pavman has now moved onto slices and this week’s doorstep delivery was a date and peanut butter slice and the classic lemon slice. Show winning in my opinion. I am too jealous to talk about the magnificent sour dough rye bread a fellow scavenger and do maker left for me. Breakfast after milking becomes a real treat with toasted rye. I finally made nettle pesto again and that is a winner for breakfast (nothing like a garlic breath at 7.00am!!) with newly made chevre and a few roasted capsicums according to the resident taste tester. RECIPE?? Pick the TOPS of the nettles (avoid seed and old leaves), then blanch them ever so quickly in boiling water. This gets rid of the sting. Then whizz them up in the blender with a combination of GOOD olive oil, almonds (blanched or unblanched doesn’t matter), several cloves of your best garlic, some parmesan cheese, a little salt and black pepper and if you like a few chilli flakes. Balance the ingredients to suit your taste. It will be an alarming green. Do not use walnuts. It will become an even more alarming black. Can be used to enhance mashed potato ( on the side not in the spuds themselves), as a pasta sauce, as an alternative to butter, and as a side dish to just about any non-green vegetable. Great topper for roasted tomatoes. My daughter’s friend has a walnut tree in her renter with the biggest nuts I have ever seen. A box of these is about to become walnut butter and sweet walnut paste. I’ll have a cracking time doing that (attempt at Dad joke). Rellies and neighbours have helped weed, shift manure and prepare new garden beds or renovate old ones. The autumn planting bug has crept into my primordial psyche again and I am making lists of trees which grow from cuttings. You simply can’t have too many figs IMO . They are ripe now in little jam sized batches. Or to dry with pears and apples and some miso in the dehydrator. You can’t have too much rosemary (hedges are good check out the one at Ballarat’s own Arc de Triumph). The pink on is best for taste .Then there are the quince varieties, pomegranates, apples to dig up from road sides. Perhaps some more sloes and a backdrop of poplars near the church so many plans. Oh and dividing rhubarb now to make a big long row again. Then cutting back autumn fruiting raspberries. Maybe getting more thornless gooseberries going. In June I will also try cuttings of the huge rose which was here when we came and has taken over one wall of the overgrown tennis court (well that’s another mammoth task!). If you are ever tempted to feel bored I suggest making notes in your journal about things you would like to do when you have time. Make sure they are FREE things. That’s the trick! See more

13.01.2022 The weekly doings on the farm.

12.01.2022 For those who follow the farming, fossicking, foraging and frugavoring adventures of Cremona Hillside . #orphanlambs #quinces #usewhatyouhave #producenowaste

12.01.2022 I'm not really good at sewing. Confession

12.01.2022 FFFF73. Festivities and Fabulous Food On the FARM this week the fox finally polished off all the ducks. A very kind neighbour has offered to fox proof the duc...k house by putting chicken wire up the sides of the walls and buried deep underground. The pen is also 10 feet high with wire buried on all sides. It is a myth apparently that foxes can’t climb. Sometimes in the evening when I am near our driveway I see some very fat cubs playing together in the moonlight. Beautiful and evil. For the life of me I can’t see why they prefer duck to rabbit. For Christmas dinner we ate very slow roasted Cremona Dexter beef. There are a few little steers running on the side of the mount and fattening up well -who may be next year’s Christmas roast. Tender and delicious teamed with spuds grown in a large tractor tyre and smothered in goose fat from a Christmas past. Several evenings before we had experimented with duck fat. Divine!! There is SO much feed this year for the animals that I only venture up the hill every second day to check that the water troughs are still filling. Sometimes the float valves get blocked. With FRUGAVORING I have made a decision that whatever I do as a reno or improvement on the farm has to be cost neutral. I sell something and use the proceeds to improve the way things are done. My daughter and son in law are helping with this because they know how to sell things online- what words to use and sound firmly convincing. I sold my Thermomix. I can’t see the point if you have a wood stove. On the AGA I can cook enormous pots of soup, a roast, some bread and have several cakes in the oven as well as a huge jam pot on the hob all at once. It’s quieter than an electric appliance and doesn’t incite anxiety about exploding. Thermomix $ will go into paint and painting. I also sold a pump. Those $ towards tools with batteries. The old shoulder and biceps injuries make pull cord petrol driven tools a nightmare for me. I also frugavored with presents and attempted to make all the presents I gave either home-made or roadside finds. Five year old grandson was totally thrilled with roadside find of an archaeological dig from the Smithsonian. Clearly it had been bought as a present for a child who preferred something less nerdy and the parents had very generously left it unused on the footpath for me with a sign saying free several months ago. Patch spent the whole of Christmas day chiselling and brushing clay to reveal dinosaur bones, a mummy, several pearls and a series of jewels. He wore safety glasses to do this and looked the part. Two (and a half) year old Hamish was thrilled with a metal hot wheels monster truck. It doesn’t take much to delight when dinosaurs and wheels are at the forefront of your mind at all times. I was so pleased that kind friends also gave me books they had read, vegetables they had grown, wine they had made and flowers from their garden. My bedroom smells deliciously of sweet peas and I have a few rare old heritage style tomato breeds to plant. The wines were a total treat. My friend Bruce makes the best Florentines in the world, and other friends dropped off Christmassy biscuits they had baked. I believe I may have enlisted a few more kilos to the middle of my personage. FOSSICKING on roadsides I found a huge pile of 78 RPM records. I took a few. They had been pre-sorted into categories. Classical, jazz and Christian tabernacle choir. I went for the jazz and a few Christian ones with beaut names I want to be a Christian was one. No point in old classical recordings unless they are famous people. Technology has made orchestras sound as if they are in your own home. I have a mechanical recording of Nellie Melba singing and it is alarmingly frightful. The old wind up gramophone with the huge trumpet will get a workout in the next week. I have plenty of spare needles. FOSSICKING in a cork oak forest near here revealed a huge number of acorns which had sprouted. A row now planted opposite the house. I will be 140 when they are a wind break protection. But by then Ballarat will have expanded out into more farmland and a developer will have named the new lifestyle mountain -side living as Cremona Heights Estate. Festivities and food dominated the week with newly shucked oysters for Christmas breakfast washed down with Mumm and Veuve Cliquot. Delectably moist turkey buffet cooked by expert American , a salad made by German chef, a pavlova made by a New Zealander ( and another made by a Czech ) and extremely good wines and spirits. I over- imbibed and may have to add another F to this post. This was my first Christmas without Alex and everyone made sure it was a good one. Thank you. Alex loved Christmas and I am sure he enjoyed seeing us all doing so too. Wherever he is, he still looks after me. See more

10.01.2022 FFFF75 Luck I find that I mumble to myself very regularly these days: I am so lucky. So I decided to look at the Chinese concept of luck. According t...o traditional Chinese thought, the most important goals in life are the five happinesses good luck, prosperity, longevity, happiness and wealth. I like the idea of named happinesses. The luck of the Irish apparently is a more modern idea to do with gold mining and the hordes of immigrants to Australia (and other places) seeking quick way to wealth. The word in German for lucky is the same word as for happy (glücklich) but in French it is more like the word for chance. In Italian it resembles the word for fortune . So there seems to be a sort of cultural debate about whether being lucky is chance, fortune or by design. I reckon it’s attitudinal. It also appears that the more Bhuddist you are in your way of living, the more you receive goodness and happiness. Not that I’m Bhuddist, but I am a fan. So this week has been lucky all round for me. In every way possible. My friends took me to visit one of the most beautiful places on earth- a huge stone house built by hand and over looking a valley. Surrounded by magnificent gardens created over nearly forty years , this was a total treat - I came home with a new rooster (Alan, who has settled in very well) , a matching hen ( Barbara, Dorking, different genetics to the ones I have ) , half a truck load of cuttings and some fertile pheasant eggs now incubating. A special gift was a fresh bergamot with which I will make 4711 perfume. Another friend had rescued some plants, nurtured them and donated them to me quite unexpectedly- rare tomatoes already fruiting, eggpant in flower, salvias and various colours of capsicum. Yet another neighbour has invited me to have some of her rare salvia collection. I have also decided to try an experiment and only eat donated food unless I totally run out. I just made a pie rabbit dressed and given to me by an old mate who sold me a few squares of very good lucerne hay, went ferreting on the hill and also produced a bottle of his home made extremely drinkeable red. I used the last of donated rhubarb wine to marinate the said bunny. That worked well. Also perfuming the kitchen is a ratatouille of local zucchinis from a good vegetable gardener nearby , some eggplant I found in the coolroom ( someone left it there !), donated tomatoes and and Evansford garlic. I have just consumed the last of a summer pudding made by a friend who grows the best berries in Ballarat and am devising a mulberry port ( really a very thick matured brandy) , mulberry icecream and mulberry vinegar. Jam with the next lot . The mulberry donor also gave me what she was taking to the Op Shop and a fair bit of it fits me. I reckon I’ll look pretty arty and out there. In the Op Shop bag was Auntie Muriel’s travel iron. I think I wil need that when I next go O/S business class. Muriel herself always took it on a cruise. Nice for the iron too. But back to food- another mate wanted help with his resume and brought beautiful cakes to get me wrting. Still being consumed those yummies. A neighbourt left a large bucket of newly dug spuds and garlic on the doorstep and then there was the mystery bottle of very good Shiraz which was on the kitchen bench. Mystery solved now. Years ago , when I was a very eccentric public servant ( how‘s that for a contradiction?), I performed a similar experiment. I decided I would only eat what was provided through the catering at the many meetings I attended. I put on weight. I also used to bag up the left over sangers from 555 Collins St meetings and bring them back for my chooks . It wasn’t fashionable to recycle in those days and and my fellow very conservative workers were always slightly embarrassed especially with the smell on the train on the way home- hot tomato and ham. But they put up with me at DHS for over 5 years , in the Ed Dept for 22 and in Parliamentary Services for 2. They don’t cater for public servants any more. Budget cuts you know. Have to bring your own hot tomato and ham sandwhich lunch- or a takeaway smashed avo and chicken foccacia if you are a hipster. The food experiment is keeping me creative and digging deep into the archeological recesses of the bottom of the chest freezers. Fun. Plenty of ancient duck there... My co- foragers and great friends were clever enough to find two pairs of linen pants at the Trentham tip for me -which I love- and also insisted on gifting me some tip- found wooden finials enough for the length of the verandah. Early one evening at my NO DUMPING spot I espied a box of books- so home came a huge pile. Many in plastic wrappers ( like The Jolly Postmanfor instance ) . Heaps of unopened kid‘s games- alphabet and counting and jigsaws. Dumpers must have been rich people with spoilt kids. Thank you. Rich people are useful for some things. The economy too according to our PM. On the farm we are rebuilding the veggie garden. A neighbour and I are going into partnership in production. I’m in charge of sales. We are shovelling the last of the huge pile of rotted goat manure into that venture. Di is on tractor with bucket and has already chainsawed up some old trusses from an ancient woolshed which we are using as garden bed edges. Heaps of planting here after the rain. And lastly I am acquiring more goats . Just been donated one in milk. An Alpine. I just miss making cheese. How pathetic is that? Three little ones are also learning about fences... I have also just bought another Pilgrim Gander. As reservsist in case. They are beautiful gentle geese and I am very pleased with their personalities. Win Win. Self sexing geese with a pleasant temperament. The people who sold him to me live at the foot of the Grampians just outside Moyston. Magic spot. They also gave me a huge bag of apples and a fig tree. The parent planet has the bigest figs I have ever seen. Carol from Workaway has arrived to garden- and boy does she know how !! A chef who is good at gardening. We will have fun. I was invited to lunch in a renovated church . The lunch was delicious, but the renovation is the most tasteful and beautiful I have ever seen. And a garden with so many rooms .... came home further enthused about a plant called an Eternal Daphne with extra potted salvias and an armful of English Garden mags. Bedtime reading. So a lucky week. A lucky life. For me the answer is clear. Luck is made -not something one leaves to chance . If you want luck, then accept the offerings of the universe- don’t look for the problems, look for the potential.

07.01.2022 Announcement regarding Youcamp and general farm-stay. We only take bookings for staying on our farm through Youcamp now. If you go to our page you will notice that we have blocked off all bookings. We have done this for two reasons : 1. It is illegal in Victoria now to engage in unnecessary travel. Holidays are unnecessary. 2. My husband has Stage 4 cancer and has chemotherapy every three weeks and will do so for the rest of his life. In case you do not understand what " Sta...ge 4" means - there is no Stage 5. He is therefore extremely at risk of dying quickly and painfully if he contracts COVID 19. We are not having any visitors to the farm at all who are likely to be near him - especially children who may not understand spacial distances and nasal fluid contact. Please be aware of these reasons and do not ask to come and stay here - even if you have your own toilet and shower. Our farm-stay is CLOSED until further notice. Thank you to Nina Smith for this wonderful explanation of how useful a goat is ! See more

07.01.2022 My weekly blog about our frugal and delightful lifestyle. #aweandwonder #miracle #neversaydie

06.01.2022 The usual weekly rave

04.01.2022 FFFF 81 Life is a Musical Comedy My two and a half year old grandson has a song for every occasion. When a neighbour generously offered to let him pat his p...et reindeer just before Christmas, Hamish was very gentle and quiet as instructed. When we shut the gate after he had fed the reindeer, he sat at the gate singing in a high pitched soft voice Jingle Bells. Because he is now a big boy and can make rude jokes and it is after Christmas, this has become a more raucous chorus of Jingle Farts and Batman Smells as he attempts to play pirates wearing a Darth Vader mask I found at the dumping place. When he feeds the pig ( Dolores) he sings the verse of old Mac Donald and his farm with an oink oink here and an oink etc . When he is tired, the Lion Sleeps Tonight has a prolonged and sleepy eyed WEEEHEE as part of the chorus. Nothing like living in a musical comedy to keep a nana amused. He also asked me what butterflies thought about and I was stumped for a reply. My FARMING fortunes have this week been inspired by the birth of several incubated ducklings and turkeys which may or may not survive broodership. Hatching in summer has its vicissitudes. But at least I got them to hatch. Also inspirational was a video of an interview with a Norwegian farmer about the concept of mob breeding. Attached for your edification if you would like to be enthused the way I was .https://www.youtube.com/watch. I have also been doing a spot of poisoning. When it is warm and wet, rodents breed. There are some rather cute and charming rats bothering both Bertram and the Scots Grays, so like Alice in Wonderland I went down the rat holes with some nasty farmer strength rat bait and buried the bastards. I notice on Facebook that people who claim to be animal activists are asking for natural baits for rats. Interesting concept. Cat is the obvious answer. Angus does a reasonable job, but is occasionally rather lazy. I have sold the donkeys. This is particularly sad, but I am rationalising what is useful and manageable and sensible for me to keep . I am very very fortunate that a local woman bought them sight unseen and when she met them was more than thrilled. She already keeps donkeys and has a breeding plan. I had a fabulous FORAGE in a friend’s garden. She offered me some cuttings (I never refuse) and a tour of her garden. What a treat!! . She has the most beautiful Wollemi pine and gave me some seeds. Here’s hoping! But best of all she offered me a peppercorn tree which had seeded out in her garden. I have tried many times to grow these trees but have now worked out that they need a LOT of water early in life. The smell is beautiful and reminds me of my childhood. In an abandoned paddock next to our house there was a HUGE tree which was wonderful for climbing, playing under on hot days and building fairy houses. Now I plan to make peppercorn gin because I tried one made by Tanqueray and it was super. Another extremely generous friend brought around some mountain pepper and the leaves are now infusing some home-made gin. I reckon that could be a goer. Apparently it grows from cuttings, so will give that a crack too. FOSSICKING revealed a bookshelf which is now the toy shelf and dumped on the road was a book about seasonal veggie gardening. Australian, which is good. I was invited to have a fossick in an old orchard mostly for windfalls to satiated the rather eclectic tastes in fruit of my new swine friend Dolores. She was thrilled, and I brought home a bag of blood plums to make some of the doings and to dehydrate. Another friend suggested I fossick in her shed where she had a collection of industrial glassware used by a food company for laboratory testing. I brought home some rather decorative flasks and manufactured some corks as stoppers. This has begun an industrial chic phase. Enhanced by further fossicking, I now have a stash of large metal rings from vinegar vats. These will become Henry Moore type sculptures in the fields of Mount Bolton and in the churchyard. Or perhaps mysterious and enigmatic sundials which may also require me to move some stashed bluestone blocks to create a small version of Stonehenge. It will thrill archaeologists in the future. They will have theories about what FOO did in her spare time. During the shed fossicking we found some ancient illegal fireworks. Testing these proved a rather loud affair and there was a slightly unexpected visit from Mr Plod after I had left. No animals or humans were harmed during this experiment. There is fruit everywhere for foraging, and here on the farm I have nashis, apples, pears and the beginnings of chestnuts. If you plant chestnuts, remember they loathe wet roots. I lost several until I learnt this fun fact from someone who laconically explained that these fruit originally came from Spain point taken. I have also been reminiscing about the series of gardening books by Rix and Phillips (marvellous information if you happen to see them in Op Shops) because they explain the native habitat of each plant. You can then think about microclimates in your own back yard. The vegetable book is my favourite. I have FAR too much horseradish in my garden. If anyone wants to come and dig some up (post lifting of visiting restrictions) they are most welcome. FRUGAVORING means that I accept any donations of food/ clothes/wine/plants really without much discretion. Sometimes I pass these things on, but mostly I find a use. Now that I have a pig again vegetables which have met their demise in the bottom drawer of the fridge are popular. The goats have had seaweed chips and flaccid carrots this week as well as their usual tucker. Given that I have to stay home, I am also forced to be a bit neater and have cleaned out my own fridges- what revelations are there! Post-Christmas hummus for instance. As I am typing an enormous (not incey wincey ) spider has crawled out from behind the ream of paper. A huntsman. Must be going to rain. They come inside beforehand. Well that’s just another chance for a song- Gene Kelly at his best. See more

02.01.2022 Great image. In case you don't know what a " CSA" - it stands for " Community Supported Agriculture" . The only thing this poster does not include is bartering between farmers which is my favourite way of shortening the food chain. We trade goat milk ( used as pig food ) for pork meat grown ethically on a CSA registered property. WE trade honey for grain, soap and honey for wine. Pretty simple really.

02.01.2022 The philosophy of the week.

02.01.2022 The usual weekly

02.01.2022 The weekly blog