Forever House #54

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 65^th 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 90^th 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. 

Womens breaky - Danielle, Karen, Cindy,
Mim, Jan, me.

My nephew Gus turns 21!

My God mother Auntie Marie - one of Mum's
oldest friends, with my sisters and me at
My Godfather Uncle John's funeral

I traveled with my sister Shayne to Sydney for my Godfather’s funeral.

Shayne and me on a blue moon in Manly NSW

Our dear Auntie Anne - Mum's oldest friend.

Shayne Danielle Peita and I visited one of my Mum's last remaining friends Aunty Anne. It was so nice.

 
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…