Och aye wee luds

Great Britain is the birthplace of many great things. Wimbledon, The Ashes, The House of Windsor and haggis. It’s been a great battle ground too with dozens of bloodsheds between the Kingdoms of Scotland and England. My personal favourite is the war of The Rough Wooing. Scotland and England had a tiff over a marriage that Henry the Eighth tried to arrange between his son Edward and Mary, Queen of Scots. Even the great 16th century historian William Patten weighed in on the war citing “I lyke not thys wooyng.” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rough_Wooing

It seems our Black Angus cattle know their roots. Angus is considered the birthplace of Scotland dating back to 1320, and as I went out to check on the boys today, I noticed a kerfuffle. The Hereford girls from next door were proudly displaying their rumps, frolicking even, as they made their way across the paddock. However, like most men, the stomach is stronger than the heart, and the boys were finding the lushness of the pasture far more inviting. There was no risk of Rough Wooing today. However, were the boys not steers but bulls, it may have been a different story. Bless their little Bravehearts!

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Boys toys

I have to say, I love cars. A good Maloo on display at the Deni Ute Muster does it for me. There’s something cool about sleek curves and a throttling engine.

Today my machine and I are out in the paddock doing some clearing. Small and compact, this little Kubota works a treat when it comes to getting stuff done. Mowing, pushing and digging, this orange pocket rocket is my friend. Give me a boys toy any day.

P.S. It’s even better when your hubby is doing the loading. That way my manicure stays intact :0)

A day on the green

Today we’ve treated ourselves to some cheeky Yarra Valley bubbly. Domain Chandon is our destination, sister vineyard to the famed Möet Chandon.

I think Champagne fixes everything, but due to provenance law, today it’s “sparkling” that does the trick.

Sunshine and crisp air are a tonic, and we’re very lucky to be sitting here soaking up the rays.

Whatever the naming convention, I’m very happy to be toasting to it!

On the Moove

Herding cattle can be tricky. Just when you think you have them covered, there’s that little posse of attitudey cows who decide that the grass is greener on the other side – the side of the fence you don’t want them grazing. Our Angus cattle are very content, and we’ve worked out that soft encouragement works best for these boys. A few low register sounds of the “shoo” and “koo-mon” varieties seems to agree with them. Whether it’s our mutual Scottish heritage connection or sheer luck, as long as they’re heading in the direction we want them to go, I’m happy.

This morning, a good firewood collecting session had them mesmerised. Lined up along the right side of the fence watching intently as Hubby carved a fallen limb with the full-throttle chainsaw, their heads lowed to the rhythmic sounds of manmade machine. The approaching tractor added to the excitement. Their heads turned left to right as they watched the action – chainsawing man, tractor driving woman, chainsawing man, tractor driving woman – reminiscent of a good Wimbledon rally. I thought of that wonderful Far Side cartoon depicting people standing in a paddock as a carload of cows speeds by mimicking them. After a morning of providing cattle-class entertainment, I think that genius Larson is onto something.