About stuff . . . .

We survived our 'catastrophic' Wednesday, when the winds howled hot and angry from the northwest, bringing the fire at Bilpin to about 13 kms from here.

"How far is it to Bilpin?"

"About 20 kms, if you drive along Bells Line of Road."

"Do fires drive along the road?"

We were showered with burnt gumtree leaves, talking on the phone on the back verandah, one fluttered down beside my foot and I picked it up.  It was still warm from the fire.

Wednesday's smoke travelled south (to the left)

On 'not so catastrophic' Thursday, the wind turned around and howled cool and snarly from the southwest.  The smoke that was travelling south on Wednesday, travelled north on Thursday.  I figured the fire was on a zig zag course for Kurrajong.

Thursday's smoke travelled north (to the right)

On Friday, it was as still as could possibly be.  Almost all day.  The smoke was tired from travelling first south, then north, and decided to settle down for a nice long rest.  Over Kurrajong.  Cough, cough, cough.  Even the dogs were sneezing.  You could scarcely see the neighbours' houses.

Since then, the weather has calmed considerably and we've relaxed somewhat.  Water bombing aeroplanes and helicopters continue to fly over daily, but we hardly look up at them anymore.

Logically thinking, I couldn't see how a fire was going to reach us here.  We are surrounded by other houses and relatively open country.  Our house isn't nestled in the bush like the houses at Springwood and Winmalee.  But I couldn't shake the thought that, well, what if . . .

So I did pack a large box of photo albums and a small box of 'treasures' including jewellery, thumb drives of irreplaceable information and our passports (although Mike's expired almost a year ago - he's obviously not planning any travel anytime soon!)

Mike saw the stuff sitting in the hallway by the front door and insisted he needed to add some stuff as well.  Out came a handful of files - all to do with his cars!!  If the worst case scenario had occurred, we'd have saved the paperwork - but not the cars themselves!

Anyway, on this day of strange limbo living, I got to thinking about the things I have - the stuff.  I did a walk around of the house and mentally noted all the stuff that I would indeed want to save in the event of an oncoming fire.

In the sewing room, instantly I see my sewing machines.  That's plural.  How could I leave them?  On the quilting frame is a quilt that I've almost finished quilting for a dear friend of mine.  How could I leave that?

Then there's my stash!  Gulp!  Both of fabric and knitting yarns . . . .

In the next room, lying on the bed, is a quilt top that I've been making for years for my son and daughter in law.  It started with a piece of fabric that they bought on the trip to New York.  It has thousands of little pieces of fabric that I have stitched together and it means a lot to me.  How could I leave that?

In the hall is a cupboard of things, a conglomeration of ornaments, vases, school craft creations and antique things, all with significance attached.  In the top is the hat that my Dad wore whilst mowing the lawn the day or so before he died.  How could I leave that?

In the next room, in the top of the wardrobe, are boxes of memories.  First baby shoes, paintings from school, ballet costumes, my wedding dress from a million years ago (no, I'd leave that).

In the next room is a trunk that belonged to my mum.  It contains some of her belongings.  In the wardrobe is a box containing the wedding dress I made for my daughter in law a few years ago.

In the kitchen, there's my coffee machine, my KitchenAid mixer and my AGA stove.  All replaceable, but I love them.  Among the knick knacks is the little teapot that my Mum got from her family for her twenty-first birthday.  It has been broken and glued quite a number of times, but she treasured it.  On the wall is a weather house.  Is that what you call it?  Where the girl in her sun bonnet comes out of the house if the weather is fine and the man in the raincoat comes out if the weather is wet.  It was a wedding present of my Mum and Dad's when they were married in 1948.  How could I leave that?

I've come to the conclusion that I would need a semi-trailer and at least three days notice if I was really required to evacuate my treasured belongings.

And yet, I see on the television the people who have indeed lost everything.  Notwithstanding the shock and the sadness of losing all their possessions, often the comment is made "but we're all safe, that's what really matters, the rest of it was just stuff . . . ."

What would you choose?  Could you quickly decide what items you would save of your 'stuff'?

Ominous . . .

Last Thursday we had hot gale force winds blowing from the northwest.  Great bushfire weather, hot strong winds, low humidity, tinder dry bush.  To our southwest, I watched the smoke of a fire at Springwood and Winmalee which ended up devouring over 200 homes. 

There was also a bushfire near Lithgow.  A column of smoke towered over us and stretched across to the city.

The sunset that evening had a red glow.

The fire has travelled closer to us, and is now impacting people as close as Bilpin.

This morning, we have total calm.

And much smoke.

The weather people are predicting that the wind will again pick up today and that tomorrow and more so Wednesday will bring weather that is described as 'catastrophic' with regard to the spread of the fire.

It feels like the calm before the storm.

Just asking . . . .

. . . . are you okay?

12 September - National R U OK? Day

It's the last day of winter . . . .

. . . . and the thermometer on the wall of the family room says it's 28.9 degrees Celsius outside.  That's like 84 degrees Fahrenheit.

The Blue Mountains are on fire.

Taken from outside our front door.

This is hazard reduction burning.  Fortunately it hasn't been windy, so hopefully the firefighters have everything under control.  However, I'm hearing Bush Fire Brigade trucks with sirens blaring more and more frequently roaring past on Comleroy Road.

Happy Father's Day to all the dads tomorrow.  Wish my dad was here so that I could plant a kiss on his long remembered forehead.  Love you, Dad.

Swallow this . . . .

There is a gap between the rafters of the back verandah and the iron on the roof.  A little gap of about two inches or so - just enough room for a swallow to roost during the night.  And we have had a pair of these fearless birds doing just that for as long as we've lived here.

At about this time each year, up until now, they have proceeded to build themselves a mud nest under the verandah.  Unfortunately, during the last year, some maintenance work under the verandah resulted in the little ledge that they built on being removed.

A week or so ago, I noticed that they had started building their nest up under the roof of the verandah in the aforementioned little gap where they normally sleep.  No, no, I said, much too messy, thank you very much and proceeded to knock down the beginnings of that nest.  I must mention here that some of my early memories of life on the farm at Mizpah are of the swallows trying to build their nests under the roof of the verandah there and of us kids pleading with Dad not to knock the nests down!  Poor little birds, we thought, but of course we were only kids and not responsible for cleaning up the mess these little homemakers make.

My ingenuity kicked in and with great dexterity and a bit of help from the broom, I filled the gaps with pieces of rolled up bubble wrap that I had collected for some reason but probably not this one.

Then I retired to the house and congratulated myself on solving that pesky issue.

Within a day, they had started again a little further down the rafter timber.  This time on the steel anchor hook where you hang a hammock.  I've never been able to comfortably hang my hammock there, because swallows are flying above you all the time yelling at you to get lost.  Once again, I said sorry chaps, go someplace else to make your mess.  I thought a little extra disincentive was called for and once again my ingenuity came to the rescue in the shape of the window cleaner.  It has an adjustable pole, I was able to extend the length to what I needed, and it was close at hand in the laundry.  I should be using it for it's intended purpose - it's almost spring cleaning time.

I'll show you swallows who's boss around here!  Very precariously the window cleaner was balanced between the closest outside light and the steel anchor hook thing.

Cop that, you feathered fiends!

So . . . .  (wait for it!)  . . . .












. . . . they've built their nest on it!

I've quit.

The Welcome Swallow, Hirundo neoxena, . . . . . I don't think so!

Sometimes . . . .

. . . . you don't get quite what you paid for.

I thought a patch of yellow freesias on the driveway wall would be nice.  The packet definitely said they were yellow.


. . . . you get more than you paid for.

Jean Galbraith.  An Australian bred rose in the best English Rose tradition.  A sport of David Austin's Abraham Darby.  More lemon than Abraham's apricot, but with the same exquisite perfume.


. . . . you have to stick to your guns.

For ages, I've wanted the Leylandii removed from the garden bed straight outside the front door.  It was a neat little Christmas tree when we moved here, yesterday my son in law, who doesn't need a lot of encouragement to chainsaw down a tree, came and despite Mike's misgivings, the tree is no more.  And the hallway inside the front door is no longer like a dark cave.  And Mr Lincoln will now get a decent amount of sunshine each day.

And we have the makings of next winter's woodpile.

Whoa!!

I wish I could describe how windy it is here today.

Does this give you an idea?

The casuarinas bending over sideways in an effort to throw as many needles into the pool.

The pepper tree doing the same.

The was one of Mum's pot plants.  We called it 'the family aspidistra'.  Where Mum had it at the retirement village was in a totally shaded, protected spot and it was beautifully dark green and glossy leaved.  Here it gets the sun, probably too much sun and the full force of the wind, particularly on a day like today.  It has blown completely off it's wheelie thing and I will struggle to get it back on again.

I've been sheltering in the sewing room, doing stuff, and looked up just in time to see this happen outside.  Luckily it fell away from the fence.

This morning, the two dogs were picked up at 7.30am for a half day at the spa.  I actually thought they would be there all day, given the ratty, knotty hairdo's they've been sporting lately.  But the super efficient lady said they would be back by 1pm and they were, right on the dot.

Don't think Merlin appreciates his haircut.  He came back in very grumpily.

Try as I might, I cannot get a photo of these two dogs sitting up side by side.  This is about as close as I could get.

So I'm sewing today, and listening to the walls shuddering against the wind.  I figure nothing catastrophic is going to happen, given that Ewan McGregor is in there, snoring his head off beneath the rattling window.

Posting this while the power is still on.