THREE MIDDLE AGED MEN IN A PINK DINGHY

Beach party, New Year's Eve, Wongarra Beach

Shells underwater, the Otways

Drinks on the beach, New Year's Eve, Wongarra Beach

Beach party, New Year's Eve, Wongarra Beach

White seabird taking flight off rocks, the Otways

We didn’t expect to ring in the New Year wondering whether three men in a pink dinghy were going to drown in a spontaneous burst of drunken cray-fishing. Luckily they didn’t, their children’s toy boat good humoured enough to keep afloat it heavy load, a held breath away from being inundated by each tiny wave.

Picnics on the beach next to strangers in fading light soon lead to lively conversations with a beer in the hand. Full bellied contentment, squint eyed games of beach cricket and frisbee lit by fireworks with Gracie dogs collar held tight.

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AMATEUR APIARISTS

Removing bars from top bar hive

Honey bee close up on a glove

Smoker for bees being lit

Removing bars from top bar hive

Worker bees on bar

Jess brushing bees off honeycomb

Honeycomb oozing with honey

Looking up at the comb from below

Honey dripping off comb

Jess with a bee sting, taking one for the team

Top bar hive with roof off

Jess watching from a safer distance after her sting

Honey on the raised earthbag garden beds

Brushing off bees after the collection

 

The warm, sweet smell of honey was so strong it had begun to sway towards the sickly side of delicious. We thought it might be time to harvest a few bars.

Last year when bee mania hit our sharehouse the newspaper arrived on our doorstep with a front page cautionary tale of beekeeping gone wrong in Flemington. We considered ourselves safe as long as we steered clear of “bizarre nocturnal attempt(s) to move a beehive onto a roof” and “beer fueled escapade(s)” . But when it came time to try harvesting our honey, finding ourselves short of a suit, smoker and experience, we thought who better to call than our Irish neighbour of “bee bungle” fame, we bee keepers have to stick together and afterall 60 stings later he would surely be a lot wiser for his experience.

Quick to laugh and enjoy the challenges of the bee keeping experience, Andrew was a delightful addition to our little honey gang. And challenges are never shy around us, culminating in our bees having been very busy over spring fusing the bars diagonally to each other rather than in neat little lines. So the removal experience wasn’t quite as easy as we had hoped, a call to the bee man, Martin, informed us we would probably have to remove the offending combs in winter and start afresh! There weren’t many stings, although one did involve an unfortunate incident of a bee flying up someone’s pants which elicited gales of laughter from the flats above.

The gorgeous, golden Flemington honey was worth our misadventures and hopefully with a little bit of experience we will be running our bee operation in a less chaotic fashion next year.

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A SEASIDE CHRISTMAS

Fruit salad, Grey River Christmas

Putting up decorations for Christmas at Grey River

Toasted croissants, Grey River Christmas

Breakfast BBQ for Christmas at Grey River

Christmas muffins for breakfast at Grey River
Fruit salad, Grey River Christmas

Christmas Breakfast, Grey River

Linesman fixing powerline, Grey River Christmas

Little Dog receives his present with suspicion, Grey River Christmas

Dylan's Christmas present Swainston's Fish of Australia, Grey River Christmas

Charlie and Little sitting on dad's lap, Grey River Christmas

Tom taking Wardy out spearfishing, Grey River Christmas

Fisherman and fisherdog on the beach, Grey River Christmas

Trout, Grey River Christmas

Watercolour fish, Grey River Christmas

Gracie dog decorated for christmas, Grey River Christmas

Hash browns, Grey River Christmas

Christmas Dinner, Grey River

Birthday cake, Grey River Christmas

Chess, Grey River Christmas

Stormy weather took out the power lines so Christmas  morning began with a crackling fire and smokey toasted croissants. Traditions of plastic trees, turkey and shouting matches are made to be broken: family, friends and fishing are much nicer. Chocolate birthday cake is pretty delightful as well.

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THANK YOU MY FINNED FRIEND

Fishing off the rocks at the beach, Grey River, the Otways

Dylan catching his first and only fish of the day at the beach, Grey River, the Otways

tom spearfishing at the beach, Grey River, the Otways
Tom cleaning the fish at the beach, Grey River, the Otways

Our catch at the beach, Grey River, the Otways

Shelling broad beans at the beach, Grey River, the Otways

Broad beans at the beach, Grey River, the Otways

Fishing and trying to avoid snags at the beach, Grey River, the Otways

Sitting and fishing at the beach, Grey River, the Otways

Little penguin on the beach, Grey River, the Otways

 

We started reducing the amount of meat we ate during our Permaculture course, how could we not after learning about how unsustainable it is and unnecessary? Humans have evolved as omnivores so I’m not about to tell people who love meat they shouldn’t eat it, I don’t think it is unnatural to do so, but we definitely didn’t evolve eating it everyday, perhaps once a week. It was a special thing which involved a lot of skill in tracking and hunting, the animals were not on a production line, they were revered and every part of them from skin to horn were used, nothing was wasted.

We decided to eat only wild meats, ones that would otherwise be a waste product of culling. But slowly becoming more awake to the implications of what I eat, I came to a conclusion…I should only eat what I would be willing to kill myself, with my two hands, no more little styrofoam trays!

After this decision, I realised I didn’t have much of a stomach for such things, the list of meats dwindled to birds and fish. It came to a head when our housemate wanted to hatch a dozen Bantams and kill and eat the roosters. I quietly and shamefully sobbed into my pillow that night and realised afterward I could not eat chicken anymore, so I became a pescatarian. (Of course if you are going to eat chicken my housemates approach was perfectly right, on a farm the extra roosters would to be dispatched, often without being eaten at all.) Then one night I had a nightmare that I had a fish in my hands and it was wriggling and I knew I shouldn’t just let it drown in air, but I just couldn’t deal the fatal stroke . The next time I ate fish I had this niggling guilt, I had to go fishing and see if I could do it before I could eat fish again.

That is how rod in hand (and spear for our British friend) we came to be at the beach fishing off the rocks. Surprisingly the first cast we got, was not what we at first thought was a snag, but a healthy sized fish, and … it was fine. But it did make me more aware of the idea that even eating a fish you have caught yourself is taking a life and it shouldn’t be done too lightly. I am happy to stick to just eating fish that we had caught ourselves. It seems unnecessary to eat it more than that. Meanwhile, is it me or is the average vegetarian food often more gourmet tasting than the usual meat and three veg? There are so many delicious subtle flavours!

Oh I guess I should make mention of the shelling of broad beans on the beach, it can be tedious shelling them so why not get little sun at the same time. On the way back home, catch in hand we spotted a little penguin who had obviously taken a wrong turn and needed a little rest on the rocks before heading to more familiar waters.

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