What I did today

When I woke up this morning, it was such a beautiful day that I changed my mind about going into work to catch up on all the stuff I didn't get done on the weekend. I got undressed out of my work pants and black socks and work shoes and put my pajamas back on.
Work this past weekend was busy, on Saturday we had a wedding in our restaurant, so all of our dining got switched around, with our normal restaurant service in our function room, a trek up the hill for all the staff and equipment and food. It was Anzac Day weekend, though you'd never know it. One public holiday feels the same as the others in a hotel, except the decorations change. Feeling patriotic, everyone was patriotically horse riding and shooting and eating and having high tea.
I was very excited to have the day off today, even it it means a super early start tomorrow.
I decided to start on my list of things I must do.
First thing on the list was to take a walk along the newly slashed path and see how far it would take me up the back yard. I headed past the dam, with only 2 ducks today. Wary of snakes, I kept to the track. We thought they were all asleep (the snakes) but we have had a resident green snake all weekend at work on the verandah so I was being extra cautious.
The slashed path continued past the old airfield cones and into the neighbouring paddock (to the main part of the paddock) into a place I'd only been once before, in the car, and become surrounded by cows. It has always intrigued me because of the big hole in the earth wall at the boundary to the paddock that allows the tiniest glimpse beyond (it is probably just a big bunch of dirt, but curiosity about the hole has grown in the six months since we moved here.

No success with the big hole, it was only 50 metres away, but it was 50m of hip high grass and no one knew where I was and I had no water. Saving the hole for another day, I followed the track in the opposite direction. It led up a hill that had always looked so so. In our big paddock backyard, there are lots of corners that just look like more bush, so it had never seemed like a place to check out before. But because the slashed pathway led there, I figured there must be something to look at. The place was on the right of the strange grove of trees that have always looked too uniformly neat to be accidental. When we moved in, we thought they were olive trees from the previous owners who were starting an olive farm


I rounded a corner and came across the dam. This small dam is fed by yet another creek (4 creeks and counting that lead into our paddock). It had two small baby ducks having a swim, and then a huge rustling in the bushes and water which turned out to be scared mummy duck.


Further on, adjacent to the grove, I found the creek which was the source of the dam. No so much a creek as a huge erosion path, and suddenly I discovered the reason for the uniform trees.


The trees turned out to be the source of the amazing smell that we have enjoyed for the last 4 weeks or so. The blossom on the trees smells just like the most beautiful honey and fragrant smell of spring (ok, I know its Autumn, but some smells escape even my descriptive library of aroma). Standing in the shade at the edge of the grove, I drank up the wiffs. Then the birds started and I was laughed at by kookuburras.

I did not really want to leave to go back,it was so peaceful and new and far away from my normal life, even though my house was within view, but I had no water and I knew the walk back was fairly long (for me).


As soon as I got home, I started on task 2. Satin flowers. I saw this technique in a scrapbooking magazine a few months ago and had to try it. Last week in Toowoomba I dragged Michael into Lincraft and purchased 8 colours of satin pieces and a dozen intersting buttons.
What you need to do is cut your satin into 5 circles of decreasing size. Then using a tea light candle, pass the fabric through or close to the flame, so that it curls up. By turning the circle as you burn the fabric, it circles into a shallow bowl shape. By repeating it for each circle, you end up with lots of inner layers of circles which become petals. It is then assembled by stiching together and decorating with a nice button. They are great for a homemade broach or for scrapbooking.
I made three of these, just to prove I could, the decided it was time for Task 3.
Task 3 was writing my wine training course for tomorrow, which I am delivering as the first of s series of short training events for our waitstaff, who have next to no wine knowledge.

One of the points I have always tried to get across to people, whoever they are, is that wine is suggestive. That is, while people's perception varies and everyone smells different things in wine - depending on their experience and palate / aroma memory - as soon as you provide your opinion on a wine, others will start to smell that thing or taste that taste. It is unavoidable, which is why many serious wine tastings are conducted in silence. Wine evaluation is contagious.

This is important for waitstaff to know, because it means that they dont need to know much to be able to talk about wine. They can provide their sensory experience for the guest, and as long as it is not ridiculous, most people will agree.
One of my favourite tests in wine tasting is the uniformity of wine if you take away two sense, sight and smell. You are relying on the small amount of information that taste buds contribute without the retronasal information. Without sight, you have no expectation of what you might be about to put in your mouth. It is a great exercise as it shows just how reliant wine tasters are on their 3 main senses.


I tried it at home today, just to remind myself of how hard this lesson is. The first time I did this was at uni. We were all blindfolded and the teacher poured the wines into glasses out of sight, and gave them to us one at a time in our hands to taste, which we had to do with our noses pegged closed. The only thing we had to do was decide if the wine was red or white, nothing harder than that.
No one was allowed to talk, we had to put up our hands, still blindfolded, when the teacher asked if we thought the wine was red or white. The only tools we had were our sense of weight of the wine, tannin, alcohol. In other words, what we felt in our mouths. Being a seriously competitive bunch, we all considered for a few minutes before making this careful decision. Being in training, most of us got the right answer, over and over, but it was tough.

Today when I did this excercise, I thought I had it right on my first go, I took my fingers off my nose triumphantly and and the blindfold, and thats when the last of the palate hit my tongue and I looked at the wine I was holding and realised I had been too hasty to judge, being out of practice.

After the fun with wine, I caught the kitty sitting on my boudoir chair in the sun and she looked seriously cranky to be caught out.

Abseiling Adventure - in our own backyard

This morning we had an adventure in our backyard, well the back of the property, which is kind of our backyard. There is a gorge that lies about an hour out, by 4WD. The track to get there is steep and rocky and overgrown. You really need to know where you are going and what you are looking for or you'll never find it. At times the road sits high on the ridgeline, with sharp drops on each side. Grace and I were in the back seat of the 4WD, holding onto the door handle, trying not to slide into the door, or each other, but our butts were squished together as we fought gravity and the forbie fought the road. A couple of false trips on side roads that didn't exist and we finally found it, a valley with a creek running through the base, that tumbles into the gorge, all hidden in trees. Sheer cliffs camouflaged.

It was a beautiful sunny morning for an abseil, we hiked to the edge of the cliff for a look out at the view. We could easily see to Laidley and wondered if the open fields at the end of the range were Bubbling Spings - our house and paddocks. The electricity poles certainly said that the view was our backyard. Eerie, to be so high up and far away and realise we were standing on the open exposed saddle of the range that we can see from our lounge room.

We geared up and one of the guides went down first. All we could hear was the clattering of loose rocks falling to the ground, smashing like plates at a Greek wedding. It was a scary thought that we'd soon be standing down where those rocks fell. Grace went next, then me. I thought it would be easy to go over the edge, given my climbing adventures, but I'd underestimated how hard it was to stand out on an edge and gradually go over the lip and stand sideways, especially in boots and not climbing shoes. The belay was totally different and my balance was off, with the control of tension below my body instead of above. I got stuck in a crack when the rope swung out from the rock where there was a roof and where my feet could not touch. I ran into a fern and my shoulder hugged the sides of the crack and was glad when I got to the ground. Anyway, it was a fabulous feeling afterward, being in that wild secret place surrounded by trees and vines and sheer cliffs, a place that no one would find unless they knew where to look.

We climbed out through a narrow chimney that water had carved through the rock, leaving natural 'steps' that led up to the creek and we could easily get back to the top.

For me the best part was knowing that I had done it, when for so long now I've felt there were so many things I could not do. I would do it again, but I think it would be more fun to climb than abseil, there is something more challenging and satisfying about conquering a rock from the ground up and discovering the view after, not the other way round.

More pictures to follow once I get them from the guide. By the way, the sign here that directs travellers to Mulgowie Pub is approx 45 minutes into the property and at least an hour hard drive from the back gate. If the traveller is counting on a nice beer at the end of the track, they really deserve it after this drive

Birthday Roadtrip

This week, Michael and I actually had two whole days off together, and as it is his birthday next week, we decided to go and visit his parents, as he never sees them.
We set off late, owing to the cat's decision to hide outside under the stairs instead of agreeing to be put away safetly from the recent roaming big feral dog. None of Michael's grass waggling or food shaking would tempt her out.
Once on the road, the GPS packed it in at Rosewood, a mere 15km from home. When we finally got the thing going again it lead us into false hope, guiding us all the way into downtown Maroochidor (? I cant spell it) before promptly trying to lead us onto the third exit of a roundabout that no longer existed.
Fianlly, 3 hours after leaving home, we reached the destination and were very happy to be out of the car.
Michael's parents decided to show us around a little, as neither of us had seen much (in my case none at all) of the Sunshine Coast. We headed for The Spirit House, an amazing Thai restaurant, which is pretty famous, having its own book and residing in its extensive rainforest asian style gardens. The pictures are the bamboo and cute little lanterns that light the path. The restaurant is buried deep in the garden and is open every day for lunch, as well as cooking schools and a gift shop. We have been dying to go there since we heard about it months ago, and this trip was not the time.
The next stop was the Ginger Factory, which was a good idea, as the hilly countryside and Michael's dad's driving made me car sick.

The ginger factory is literally covered in ginger plants. So much so that when Michael stood next to this gingerbread man statue, he thought it actually smelt like ginger. There is also a honey room and bee tour where you learn how honey is produced, random, but a nice tourist thing to do.
Today, being a much nicer and less tiring day than yesterday, we drove up the Noosa Heads. We spend a lovely hour walking through the expensive shops before heading to a restaurant called Ricky's which is next to the river (the beach was looking threatening and windy, so we went somewhere more sheltered). The beach was bordered by the these funky looking palms, that Michael's mum called 'pandamous' with roots that continue to grow on the outside.


Ricky's turned out to be a great choice, further away from the crowds of kids on the main drag and the beach, it was quiet, sunny and had an unexpectedly fab menu. We had a tapas of crumbed / fried olives with a yummy creamy dipping sauce, pork belly that was caramelised with some kind of citrus, cajun spiced prawns with rocket, spanner crab spaghettini, a terrine of fois gras, ham hock and duck, potatoes cooked in duck fat and finally a tasting plate of desserts. A bottle of Shaw and Smith sav blanc topped off the 'quick lunch' and two hours later we were lamenting having to drive back this afternoon to go back to work tomorrow.
On the way home from the Sunshine Coast, we got lost, again, and this time we had only got 5km from Michael's parents house (stupid GPS has a death wish).
We finally found the way and took a road that Michael's dad recommended from the usual boring route. We skirted across country via Kilcoy towards Esk, the turned off to Somerset Dam (Lake Somerset), which is apparently pretty cool. Cool is an understatement.
The road skirts the dam along its whole west side, heading up and down hills, with amazing views the whole way, picturesque shimmering water that still has huge dead leafless trees sticking out, way out from the shore. The road was deserted and the afternoon had come out sunny. The 50km detour travelled alongside the dam for about 25 km before hitting the main town of Somerset where the dam wall overshadows the whole town, which is perched just above the high water mark (if the dam burst).
A tiny town, it reminded me of Colo or Jamieson or Eildon, right in the middle of nowhere, with huge rolling hills covered in a bizarre range of trees, at that nice part of the afternoon where everything starts to look cosy and homey.
Once we'd driven past the dam and Somerset we headed into more open sweeping view country, with wild flowers in white and pink lining both sides of the road, everything shining under the late afternoon sun and blowing gently so that the whole roadside looked like it was covered in silver.
At this point, as you may have guessed, my camera and phone batteries both died, leaving me without anything except my memory to record this great drive home. We'd never known that we were so close to such a beautiful drive, accustomed to everything around being fairly flat, except for the area near the hotel. Judging by the campsite at Somerset, alot of people know this place exists but no one had told us before. This is a definate must do on a lazy afternoon with a picnic and we cant wait to go back again, armed with camera.

The local yokal

Great pic my dad took of the dam at our place.

Easter this year was the first one in years that I haven't had to work for all four days and be bombarded with noisy children or minority groups of interesting dining habits. While the kidletts were still present at work, to some extent I could block them out and rest assured that I'd done my part when I stopped the two 3 year olds from bashing the croquet mallets against the posts of the main homestead.
My parents and 3 sets of their friends came to visit, and stayed at work in one of the cottages. These people are the ones who were my friends all year last year and covered up the fact that Michael and I had no life. So it was pretty exciting to see them again and to be able to show them all the local 'sites' and wildlife.
Sadly we are not surrounded by an abundance of wineries, gourmet food stores, amazing national parks or spectacular water vistas (well not within an hour's drive).
What we do have is an abundance of cane toads, frogs, snakeys, cows, birds, kangas and amazing sunsets. You get the picture. What they didn't expect however was the local colour at the local pub.
They had been pestering me to guide them to the local pub for a meal - they wanted authentic country town pub. I had already ruled out the actual local local for its front drive of carpet (yes, outdoor carpet in an indoor pattern) and we had ventured 10 minutes over the hill to the next town.
Our local is the place we go for huge cheap dinners, pool table and beer and is basically the only place within half an hour except for our hotel that serves food.
When we walked in, I saw it through their eyes - the resemblance to the bowling club on roast day, the pokies, the entertainment.. OMG, the entertainment.
I dont know what her name was, she sat in the corner with her synthesiser and yodelled. yes yodelled. I am not averse to some yodelling here and there. I like the Sound of Music more than most people and like to sing along. My family and friends thought it was a great experience - a true country pub kind of thing. I reminded them that this is the place that we go to because it is better than the blood and guts up the road or the carpet showhouse in town. This is the best it gets!
They loved every moment, especially when the crowd of Easter Sunday diners burst into song along with the yodeller. The ladies were drinking diet cokes, the men on lite, and still - they sang along in broad daylight.
The mortification has not worn off. The only reassurance is so at least they didn't do the true local test - climb the fake horse outside Das Neumann Haus. Luckily it has been removed - probably out of shame.

Nice drink in a nice hat

I used to have a friend in Canada who insisted it didn't matter what time of day it was, the acceptable time for drinking was whenever you had your shoes in.