 |
My Mud house bedroom
|
Sunday 10th September, 2023
I went out to release the tenants from the Mud House on the 28th June - eleven
weeks earlier than the end of lease - but happily so. The next morning, I woke
up in my bed there.
I wrote in my journal: Sitting on my gold
velvet lounge reading how the decisions we make create our reality. My newly
installed and functioning firebox to my right. I'm looking around at this
amazing house in awe that I'm now here to live in it and complete it as I have
imagined in my mind’s eye for a long, long time. It's so quiet and peaceful - a
few creaks in the roof as the day warms up. It does feel like I'm in the right
place at the right time. I hope to give the house its best chance to realise
the highest rewards when sold. I'm being real about what I can achieve and what
I will leave for the new owners. And then I'm going to buy me a boat! And that
is very exciting.
 |
Dad and Mums boat Galant (left)
painting by Dad (FGByer)
|
 |
Roving Tar
|
Some of you may be wondering
where that came from - the boat thing. I grew up with a sailing Dad, and then
met and two years later married (in 1988 at 29yo) a sailing man. He had a half
share in a 29.5' cruising yacht at the time and we bought his partner out. We
had the Roving Tar for 7 years. She was a gorgeous timber Herreschoff Ketch
which had been sailed to Australia from Canada. Pittwater, Brisbane Water, the
Hawkesbury River and to a lesser extent coastal trips to Sydney and up to Port
Stephens, were our playground. We were on that boat as often as not, even while
working full time. We absolutely loved sailing, blobbing around on anchor in
the Basin or Refuge Bay, America's Bay, swimming, trawling, waterfalls,
sailing-friends and all things waterfront. We sailed with friends on their 43'
yacht to Lord Howe Island in the early 90's. My husband Ian learned celestial
navigation just ahead of setting off. It was such a thrill to see land ahoy in
the misty early hours.
 |
Wild Wave - our 2nd boat
|
I remember rowing in from the boat early some mornings to attend IVF
appointments in the City. After giving up on IVF, I'm pretty sure our first
born Spencer was conceived naturally (too much information!) aboard the Tar on
New Years Eve 1992 at Dangar Island in the Hawkesbury where we were partying
with my parents Frank and Jude, and friends Janika and Mike; actually, the same
friends with whom we sailed to Lord Howe. In about 1994 we bought a 47ft yacht
- Wild Wave - which we intended to sail around the world with our then two small children. My
bible at the time was a book Dolphins at Sunset about a similar family
to ours taking off out of Middle Harbour and sailing the world for five years.
However for all sorts of reasons that fell over; and yet for me the
sailing dream never really left. So, what's that, around 30 years.
 |
Sailing to Antarctica 2020
|
 |
me aboard Allambie 2023
|
After Losing my love Jeff from a GBM brain tumour in 2015, then going through
my own oropharyngeal (throat) cancer in 2017/18, I (barely) afforded myself a
three week voyage on a 100 year old tall ship to Antarctica as a life affirming
60th birthday gift - which I boarded in early 2020 - returning just as Covid
took hold of the world. What can I say... I think that is where the boat seed
that lay dormant within started to unfurl, just like a headsail, and here I am
in my 65th year - still pretty physically good, and my thinking is... if not now,
when...? I’ve completed RYA Practical Day Skipper Course and have the navigation theory to finish. So that is it in a nutshell. More on that later.
In between times I have stuff
to do. My recent two-and-a-half-year relationship and seven month trip around
Australia with Pete ended in April. During a difficult conversation, I realised
I only have so much energy left on the planet. I asked myself where I wanted to
spend it. The answer was, not on that relationship. We’d had lots of great
times, but enough time and energy had been spent for me to know that I wanted
to step back into my own life, build on my distant relationships with my kids
and my sisters, and with those friends and family who will travel with me till
the end. Also, to write my memoir, create art, and leverage it into an income. My
kids are grown and long flown, I'm retired from 9-5 work, responsible for two
houses, and a storage shed full of excess to my needs. I want to de-clutter,
consolidate, do me.
 |
Shed of stuff to shed
|
I am aware that my busy-ness and changeability is entertaining to some, and
others, they get tired just listening to my stories. Being the literal person I
am, maybe I took the nickname given me by my parents, Donna Do, literally.
Maybe watching a mother and father raise six kids showed me that a busy life is
normal. Maybe in particular my Mum, who spent her life being all about her kids
and rarely following her own star, sowed another seed... to be sure to follow
my own star. Being one of six girls there were not gender do's and don'ts in my
childhood. My parents encouraged me to get out there and do whatever I wanted.
They went guarantee for me so I could buy the milk run Dad found in the Manly
Daily classifieds when I was 19. There's been and will continue to be a lot of
water under the bridge since then. I'm glad they called me Donna Do, and not
Donna Don't.
I’ve wondered if I am somewhere on the ADHD spectrum and have been reading up
and listening to podcasts on the topic. I think I have some of the
characteristics – like I like low light and certain fabrics, and I talk a lot. But
not others – like anxiety, low self-esteem, procrastination. I have spoken to
my therapist about it and she said everyone is on a spectrum somewhere but that
no she did not think I present as someone with ADHD.
 |
|
It is just so nice to be here
at Share 10 Currawinya while in this phase. They say you are exactly where you
are meant to be - and for the first time I've consciously recognised that is
screamingly true for me right here right now.
 |
|
It’s over two months since
I farewelled the caretakers and had my fireplace installed the same day. I have
since spent a total of 31 sleeps here at ‘the farm’ in my large snuggly mud and
stone bedroom. A couple of nice long stints and several shorter. My cousin
Christine, who also owns a share here with her son and his family, coined Currawinya
“the farm” about twenty-five years ago. It is that literally for them since Covid.
They largely self-subsist - a well-oiled machine. Their share had a complete
house, bunk house, schoolhouse and shed and lots of potential for farming. Now
they have goats, cows, chickens, vegetables, and so much infrastructure they are
a little city of their own making. But for me it is more a bush block with river
frontage where I find solace in the landscape; and it has been all about
building the mud house for all the time leading to now. Completing this house
has been the focus in and around life outside. No mean feat I assure you.
I’m finding the house to be
such a treat. I’m glamping. No running water – but bucketing from two full
tanks of fresh water collected from the 12 x 17m skillion roof. No wiring, but
enough access to solar camping power to keep things ticking over (when the sun
is shining anyway). A drop toilet through the day and a commode through the
night. Starlink through the day, downloaded podcasts and reading books by head
torch at night. On that, today is pretty overcast. There is about twelve
percent of a normal sunny day’s power trickling into the solar genny; so I am
able to type this blog into a word doc (lap top is fully charged) ready to
upload with pictures when I have more sunshine. The fridge is on, I am charging
my phone on airplane mode, Bluetooth speaker, and some lights for when it gets dark.
 |
Blog by hand on a cloudy day
|
 |
Interior painting done on a cloudy day
|
The first draft of this blog was
written by hand a few weeks ago on an overcast day. I think I am one of fewer
and fewer people who write by hand each day. Old school; old folks habit. I really
like to write by hand. Out on the verandah in my uggs and what I slept in.
Surrounded by a big, clouded sky, snippets of sun peaking through here and
there. Tree covered hills in every direction, the sound of birds, a blow fly
now and again, and the low rumble of machinery up the 2km driveway somewhere, making
it more user friendly as happens sometimes. From this vantage point I can see
three other shareholdings, the community shed and machinery shed. The roof
creaks as the sun comes and goes, and the Cataract River babbles over the crossing
at the bottom of my block. I did a painting of an interior in the house after writing
the blog. Cloudy days are a godsend in some ways, as long as they are not back-to-back.
They allow me to do things that don’t require the internet.
 |
| A very blowy day |
Still days, like that one, are
another godsend – not so much for me but for some other shareholders who as yet
don’t have houses. I had a visit from a Mum and Dad and two boys, shareholders
for two years, who are eeking out their dream further upriver around the bend
from me. They cannot escape the wind when it’s up. And it’s up a lot at this time
of year. We sat on my gold velvet lounge, drank tea and ate delicious lemon
cake which she had baked. She talked of the impact of the wind on her nervous
system. I felt for her and now when the wind blows my thoughts go immediately
to her. They were getting some ideas from my building that might inform theirs.
They, like me, are bringing a burnt out remains back to life. They’ll have a closed-up
section by the summer, which is the next difficult time for a family living in
the elements. Hot and flies. It will be a celebration when they can close the
fly screens and be inside, out of the wind and heat, grateful for small things
that take so long to achieve here; and yet outside of here are normal. I am
certainly very grateful for my walls and doors and screens.
That’s the thing about here, it’s
a real test of one’s metal to go through the process. Like maybe a modern day
version of what the pioneers did back in the day. One often wonders about one’s
sanity for biting off such a large chew. But, I can attest to the fact that after
twenty years of continuing to dig deep and find more, the result is satisfying.
My house is a miracle. I’m appreciating being here for many reasons. I’m alone
with myself. I’m safe. I have a roof over my head. Time to think. I’m working
on several projects. Contemplating my connections with others. I’m hoping to
become wiser as I become older. And remembering to be grateful. My new word
is curious.
 |
six natives and a rose to plant
|
 |
using washing water to water in the new plants
|
A couple of days ago it was cloudy in the morning - I planted three of six
natives along the front verandah digging out a heap of catsclaw in the process.
Very satisfying. Among them Kangaroo Paw, Box, Grevillea, Callistemon – all grow
to about a metre or less because I don’t want to block my gorgeous view. That
section of ground has been hacked at for years, removing catsclaw and lantana
over and over again. Now I am stationed here, I can actually make a garden and
maintain it (she says intentionally). I assembled my new camping tumble washing
machine and did three loads, recycling the water onto the new garden. Today after
typing this blog, I plan to plant the remaining three natives out the front,
plus a climbing rose over the outhouse to replace one that used to reside there.
 |
At the writers fest - with Danielle and Phillipa
|
I had not expected to take
possession of Share 10 until mid-September – that's now. And so, I had made various
commitments on the coast. As I said, I have been coming and going. Which is
kind of my MO really. I’m reflecting on that. It’s not a bad thing – I involve
myself in all my areas of interest. I love my life. I’m free to be me. A bit of back and
forth with a car full of bags - but that's all part of it. During the
past two months, among other things, I attended the Byron Writers Festival as I have done every year
bar one since 1998, but as a volunteer for the first time. I was a social media
assistant charged with scribing quotable quotes from various panels and uploading
them online for future social media posts. It was a fabulous long weekend at
Bangalow Showground – the new and very gorgeous venue.
 |
Andy and me coming into Yamba
|
I spent a week onboard Allambie
– my friend Andrew’s 40ft Catalina yacht – we did an overnight leg from Southport
in the Gold Coast to Yamba on the mid north coast NSW. Not great conditions but
excellent fun and experience.
My journal reads “We left marina around 1.30pm to
head south. Motored all the way. So excited to get going – but wind on the nose,
messy ocean, Andy vomiting but functioning, me queasy but functioning, 2 hour
shifts, we slept in between.Wet weather gear, drizzly rain, dodging fishing
boats. Arrived Yamba, lovely full tide, great berth, breaky and sleep.”
I was intending to do some more legs as Andrew travelled south down the coast but that
first trip taught him, and me, that picking the right weather window is key to enjoyable
sailing. And so, I forwent waiting for weather windows and, again,
stepped back into my own life. I will have to wait till I have my own boat and the time to enjoy the cruising rhythm.
 |
Me on night shift in the rain
|
 |
Berthed in Yamba after a big night passage
|
 |
Trish and me in the Mt Cout-Tha Botanical Garden
|
I spent a long weekend in Brisbane and saw the Whirling Dervishes as a guest of
my friend Meegs who was gifted two tickets for her birthday. Amazing to put a
face to the name Whirling Dervish! Walked in the Mt Cout-Tha Botanical Gardens
with my friend Trish. And went to Christmas in July at Manly Sailing Club with friends
Sandy and Eric and others. Gosh that really was a big weekend!
 |
Deb
|
I packed up and moved my
belongings from my late friend Deb’s house at Glenugie to Share 10; but, went
back to her house to gather with my friends, the Golden Girls, for a weekend at
the end of July to celebrate what would have been Deb’s 65th
birthday.
We had a wonderful if poignant last weekend together in that place –
Deb’s place. We Golden Girls will always gather, and Deb will always be among
us, but that was the end of a particular era.  |
The Golden Girls
|
 |
Minnie Water
|
 |
Carolyn, Annie, me, Susie
|
 |
The Clarence Grafton
|
 |
Glenugie walking Debs road
|
I’ve helped celebrate my sisters
Peita and Danielle’s birthdays.
And my friend Karen’s.And my nephew Gus' 21st.
 |
Sprinking Mum and Dads remaining ashes
at North Creek Ballina 27.8.23
|
 |
Etching of Karen and Stuart's entry
|
 |
Etching - Interior Patchs Beach house
|
Peita Danielle Shayne and
I sprinkled the last of Mum and Dad’s ashes in North Creek out the front of
their last home on the eve of what would have been Mum’s 90th
birthday.
I did an Art Sunday or two creating two new etchings.
I painted a commission of Bubba the dog.
 |
Commission: Bubba
|
 |
Broken Car on the
Hogarth Range
|
My car broke down on the way out to the farm with a car full of food shopping and my sister Shayne saved me.
I attended a
women’s network breakfast or two; one discussion topic was that of risk taking,
and another was the notion of perceived failure when things in life end.
When on the Ballina coast I stay in my friend Karen's garden flat or if for a short time with my sister Shayne. I am doing a house sit this coming weekend for people I don't know - that's a first. Practicing for housesitting in Melbourne going forward so I can be a bit closer to my kids sometimes. (If anyone knows of a house to sit in Melbourne Late November to late December this year please let me know.)
 |
Tabulam Market day - hoping to part with stuff
|
 |
Sold quite a few cards!
|
Yesterday I made a start of shedding belongings. I took some clothes to the Tabulam Market along with my greeting cards featuring my art. My cousins who
live here on the farm nearby came with me.
All up I have well and truly stepped back into
my own life and am building connections with the important people in my life. I've not drunk alcohol for two and a half months. I've walked on Currawinya, swum in the river, and built some rock statues - a thing my kids and I used to do when we lived out here back in 2004-5.
Sooner than later I will hand this beautiful mud house over to her new owners,
and I will buy me a liveaboard sailboat for the next chapter of this crazy
thing called life. If I didn’t have a sailing bug I’d probably kick back at the
farm for a longer while - but that is not what I want to do. Not for the long
term. I’ll have everything I have here on my boat, and more. Nature all around,
the personal challenge of learning to sail her solo. I’ll be able to write and
paint and run my online art business. Hang out in bays, build a sailing
community around me. I’m nearly 65. The ocean is my tonic. I smile every time I
think about my boat. I think I’ll call her Grace.
I pay my respects to my 43yo Patchs Beach tenant who unexpectedly ‘left
his body here and ascended’ as his mother put it, in recent weeks, tragically
leaving his young and lovely partner and his family. I am just the landlady and I am devastated
for her, and him and his family. RIP VM.
Life eh…
