Morning Mob

As I stepped out the fresh air was filled with morning rain. My nostrils sucked it in and held the very essence of new life as the tiny rain particles fell to the arid earth, where they would renew all doubt.


I tilted my akurba at the magpies, a sign a respect to their morning song. A wonderfully relaxing and homeward bound feeling as they cooed the morning bush opera.


My stride was matched with three excited dogs. They leapt around me like a circus ride. Their anticipation was frenzied.


The smell of old leather waved past me as I opened the stable door. A greeting of happiness sounded from the far end of the box.


He was an old gelding, of thoroughbred blood. His legs ran the race course but his heart never past the post.


I settled myself in the saddle and the old gelding pranced his feet. I slightly shifted my weight forward and the old gelding eased into his stride.


As we cantered effortlessly across the arid paddocks, the dogs anticipation grew wildly with every stride.


Coming to a slight incline I reined the old gelding in. There over in the distance was the greatest site I'd ever seen.


A mob five thousand strong, grazed eagerly on irrigated pasture. They looked at me with intent, but with the crack of my stockwhip they herded in a rush.


The dogs let loose their frenzy and kept over on the flank and the old gelding and I bought up the rear.


In the early hours of the morn you can hear the crack of leather and look to the west and see the mob rise over the hill. Headed to the long yard, a shearer's stand waits.

In My Socks

I learnt to drive and operate machinery at a very early age. The D-4 bulldozer we used on the farm was my first experience with heavy machinery. Just like the tank, it ran on tracks.

Heavy, cumbersome and bloody dangerous.


Early one morning, I needed to head off to work. Unfortunately I was in a bit of a pickle. But not one to be stopped easily, I found away around my dilemma. I needed to start both the front end loader and truck, using only one battery.


I sat the battery loosely on the loader and thankfully there was enough charge in it to start. I then took the battery out of the loader and connected it to the truck.

Yes the loader was still running, diesel engines can still operate after they have been started and the battery is removed. This can only happen if the engine has an alternator. Excellent - say this in a Montgomery Burns voice from The Simpson's.


I then hooked the truck to the loader and dragged it to the top of a hill. It didn't take long for the old truck to get it's memento going and before long the truck was rolling quite fast down the hill. I didn't have time to stop the loader and so I just jumped off. I then ran like blue blazers to catch the truck, it had gotten up more speed than I expected. 

I had to grab hold of the truck tray and scamper up that. In doing so I lost my footing and by hanging onto the rail, my feet dragged behind me and my boots slid off. I started to laugh, yes I have a weird sense of humour.

I finally made my way to the cab and jumped in and used the gears to start the engine. The engine started, but I had no brakes...the old truck was fitted with air compressed brakes and you need to build the pressure up from the engine before you can use them. So the old truck rattled flat out down the hill, with my foot flat to the floor trying desperately to build enough air brake pressure, before I ran through the fence below.


I was unable to swerve, as the speed I was now motoring down the hill would of seen the truck tip over and although no one would of known about that, I was not really wanting to tip the truck over. Finally though, there was just enough pressure in the brakes to slow the truck down and turn around. As I drove the truck up the hill, I parked it, engine still running and I used a rock as a parking brake. I spun on my heel and chased after the loader, as it was still puttering away down the hill too.


After I had retrieved the loader, I tied the loader to the truck, and then I went searching for my boots.


I have used this technique...may I be so bold to call it a technique...a few times. To the astonished bewildered look of passer-bys. Ha what a laugh, it must of looked hilarious, me running after the truck in my socks.


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The Regret and Appreciation

As warm tears of sadness roll down my cheeks, I reflect on what an impact the above picture has had on me. I fought the feeling to write around the emotions that surfaced, but for me to look forward, I must confront those emotions.


Like most people, I have a few regrets. I see now that I didn't appreciate certain things in my life. Now that I have an appreciation, I feel deep regret.


I have had to survive and I relied on the information of others to much, and that is how I based my decisions. I let others run my thinking and in return I have regrets.


My Mum would of spent many hours making me the patch work quilt, and sowing all the ribbons I had won over the years together as a blanket. At the time I was, or thought I was, appreciative for that, but now I don't think I was.


The honest truth is, I have no idea where the patch work quilt is, and the ribbon blankets I threw away. Yes I know, fucking silly bitch. Believe me I have beaten myself up over that.


But, I was lost in my thinking and thinking I was pleasing God, I threw them out. It had to do with worshipping idols. The longing to compete and win, apparently it can be viewed as idol worship. I think this is bullshit now, but then, I believed it was what I had to do.


I am ashamed of my actions. I am embarrassed to face my feat. I can only hope Mum's disapproval would be over looked in hindsight. I know Mum may of felt disappointed, because she always wanted to do things for me, to make up for the lack when we were separated. That's why I feel so shitty.


I hate myself for doing so. Oh Mum, please forgive me for being such an ungratefully daughter. If I could turn the clock back, I would, but I can't guarantee under the same circumstances I wouldn't do it differently. It is only know that I see the error of my way and if I'd only had today's knowledge then.


...After my Mum had passed away, there were a few items left over from the garage sale. They were items that spoke to me, but I was so emotionally drained I didn't listen. When I had returned home, a flight of five hours, I dreamt about these items. They are, one stable table, for eating dinner off while watching TV, and a small jug, one from a set of three, that my sister and I had already divided up. I couldn't stop thinking about them. I wanted them back, but we had given the left overs to Vinnies.


Unfortunately a few weeks later I had to fly back home, my Nana had passed away. But, there was something magically about to happen. I was picked up from the airport and would have to drive straight past the Vinnies store we dropped the items off at, I couldn't drive past without looking.


I walked in the shop and was instantly drawn to the two items. I held them close as if Mum was hugging me. The shop assistant asked me what I was doing and after I told her my story, she wouldn't let me pay, but I donated money instead. I use the stable table most nights and the little jar has it's rightfully place on the mantle too...


Mum did it to make amends and I just casually threw it all away. I'm sorry Mum, really I am. I can only hope you know my regret and where ever you are you know that I do appreciate your effort. I know you thought it was what you needed to do, and I am gratefully. But now you are gone, I cling to all that was yours and hope one day, somewhere, somehow, I will see that quilt again.



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