Check out what greeted me when I went to the toilet this morning:



Jet and I moved house a few days ago. We are now living in a very nice three bedroom house (which we have all to ourselves!) on a cattle station outside of Julia Creek. Our new employers seem like private people, so since this blog is open to the public I'm not going to say the name of the station, nor our employers.

I am mostly working with the lady of the house: I do some cleaning, cooking and yardwork. I spend a lot of the day outside, which is the way I like it!

My new employer tells me that most nights she goes outside with a bucket of hot water and gather up frogs. She says it's a good day when she boils 20. I'm not too keen on it, but Jet has told me not to think 'cute frog' when I look at the frogs, but rather to think 'snake,' because where there are plenty of frogs, snakes will soon follow (as I learned in my kitchen in Normanton!). Yesterday morning, Jet told me he saw a frog cruising down our hallway when he opened the bedroom door, and this morning there was one sitting by the front door waiting to be let outside.

Anyhow, enough about the frogs! Here are some pictures of our new house:




It's a nice old house: very open with lots of windows! In the Australian outback, most cattle station jobs come with some sort of accomodation. The house is ours, free of charge, for as long as we work for the station. The freezer is full of meat, which again, is ours free of charge. There's a veggie patch at the back of our house, just adjacent to the laundry. It's too late in the season to plant anything now, but I'm hoping we'll be here next year.

We went to races last week, and it was quite the experience. I’d never been to anything like it. To get there, we drove for over three hours, over extremely bumpy dirt roads (I’m short, and was wearing a seatbelt, yet I kept hitting my head on the ceiling as we went over ruts). Anyhow, eventually we reached the middle of nowhere, and there it was: the Oak Park races. Hundreds of people were milling around in their very best clothes.

We spent the weekend camped out there, living in tents, sleeping 'swags' (bedrolls) and cooking our meals over an open fire.



You know the song Waltzing Matilda? "And he sang as he waltzed and he waited while his billy boiled..." That tin can off to the side of the fire is a billy.

In our two days at the races tracks, I caught exactly one horse race:



Jet bet on Like a God, and I bet on Gellato. Neither of us made any money.

It quickly became clear to me that the races, though, are more about dressing up than they are about horses. In fact, in between races they have something called 'Fashions of the Field' wherein people compete for best dressed awards.

Getting dressed all fancy-like in a tent that you can't stand upright in took some doing, but somehow I managed. Jet's sister Kat made me a lovely 'fascinator' to go on my head.

Here I am, with my future sister-in-law and mother-in-law.



I got engaged at races, too!

In keeping with the name of this blog, I have a new picture to post:



I haven't seen many of my froggy friends of late; I've been told the weather is just too cold for them. This little guy has been hopping up and down the hallway in the house for a few days now, though. Jet's mom, Min, is very worried that he is going to hop into the kettle, and checks it every time she goes to boil water.

And no, this is not some strange Aussie species of hairy frog: Mr Frog spent some time hopping around in the laundry basket, too.

I spent this morning following behind Jet as he hacked at exposed tree roots with an axe and I gathered up the severed roots and dragged them off to the side. Jack, Jet's dad, has already tilled the area with his tractor. He'll be using the area to train a few horses for the next week or so, and then I have been promised that I can plant some pumpkins and potatoes.

We've been taking a lot of walks, lately. Here's what we came across on a walk a few weeks ago:



Birdseye peppers. Boy, oh boy are these things hot! Out of curiousity, I split one open and licked it and it burned like anything. They are what gives Olga Martell's Tomato Relish its lovely zing, though. Jet and I made three big jarfulls of it, and in the course of a week have gone through one and a half.

I'll close this post off with a picture of the present Jet brought me from his visit to the garbage dump last night:



So to sum things up, I am becoming a real stick-picking, preserve making, wildflower-wearing pioneer woman.

We went for a walk in the winter sun today... While walking through the pasture, we saw a few roos:



I haven't seen many in the past few months... They were all over the place when I first came over here. An old fellow who stopped by the house last night was saying he had shot six earlier in the day, though, so it would seem they are back.

In addition to kangaroos, the pasture also held a few horses, who came over to have a quick looks at us.



I do enjoy sunny days...

Australia has a lot of very odd allegedly-edible objects (I am told they are fruits). Jet's mom, Min brought one home for us last night:



Behold, a Custard Apple. It is quite good. Earlier this year I was introduced to a wonderful fruit, the lychee, that enjoyed a special place in my affections until it abruptly went out of season. While I somehow doubt either of these fruits grow in Canada, I am sure they must be available somewhere. Clearly, I have been moving in the wrong circles.

In other fruit news, the banana tree behind the house is in the process of creating bananas:



Jet tells me that it is also in the process of creating rats and snakes, and that I am to stay far away from it. In order to extend the working holiday visa that I am currently over here on for a second year, applicants must work for three months in rural Australia. Many of them choose to do this by picking fruit. Many of them wind up in the hospital picking fruit -- of course, not all of these get bitten by rats: some, like my friend Dave, who I worked with in Banff, simply fall out of trees and break their tailbones. (I have already completed my three months by cooking up north and waitressing in the Whitsundays, so will not be forced into the fruit picking slave market just yet).

It's getting cold in Australia, which is somewhat upsetting. I was sorely deceived! It may be winter, but this is supposed to be a warm country. Jet dragged the space heater out of the shed yesterday, and he and his dad have been walking around wearing toques, or 'beanies' as they call them here.


Jet was trying to look menacing in the above picture. I am afraid he failed.

In other news, the weaners have been taken to Ballater to join the rest of the cattle. Jet and his dad have gone there for the day to do various cattle-related tasks, which means I have the house to myself.

I'll finish this very boring post with a picture of Jet's dad on his horse Hagar, rounding up the weaners to send them to Ballater:

Today was a very relaxing day for me, though I don't know that the weaners can say the same: in the morning we microchipped and branded them. I had the very difficult job of reloading the microchip gun.




All beef cattle in Australia are required by law to be mircochipped, so that they can be traced back to their origins in case of infections. Australia has never had a case of mad cow disease, and they aim to keep it that way. Each chip costs three dollars, and Jet says whatever they may say, the real reason for the tags is to make the government money.

We branded all the cattle with JJ3, Jet and his dad, Jack's, brand, and all the heifers were also branded with a '0,' signifying the year 2010. Traditionally, all the calves would be branded with their year of birth, but they no longer bother with the steers since they are eventually going to the feedlots, and the microchip also tells their age.

After lunch, Jet and I took the weaners out so that they could have lunch. I've been riding in a big western saddle that Jet has, but today Jet gave me an Aussie saddle to try out. I am informed that that very saddle was used by the Character of Clancy in a scene of The Man From Snowy River. How it went from Clancy's bum to Jet's shed, I do not know, but I do know that it is going to take me some time to get used to those Aussie saddles: I felt like I was going to fly right over the horse's head ever time we broke into anything faster than a walk.



All in all, a good day...

Jet and I spent today tailing his weaners back 'home' in Pentland, which is to say, we sat on our horses in the winter sun and talked about life, the universe and everything while we watched the yearling calves munch away on fresh green grass.

I suppose that should tell you that quite a lot has happened since my last post. ...I'll start where my last post left off, though.

Jet and I spent our week off lounging around. We went into Normanton a few times, where I got my photo taken with a rather badly done representation of the (regionally) famous Krys the Savannah King:



Krys, who was 8.63 metres long (more than 28 feet), was shot by Krystina Pawlowski in 1957.

On our last day off, Jet shod my horse Vincent, and taught our friend 'Ding' how to shoe. When they had finished, I rode him bareback back to the yards. Or rather, I rode him a ways and then Jet pulled up beside me in the pickup and told me that Vincent could find his way the rest of the way on his own. I slid off Vincent's back and watched him trot off.

When we got back to camp, Lee asked us if we wanted to go fishing. We piled back in the truck again; the inside was full, so Jet and I sat in the back, with the sun beating down on us and the wind whipping my hair around. Jet put together a line for me, but he quickly clued in that I was less than enthused with the whole fishing thing. While Jet fished, I sat and took pictures of freshwater crocodiles sticking their eyes above the water.

The only fish caught was a 'smiley fish,' which we all took pictures with. Jet said he was scared I was going to strangle the poor beast, I gripped its neck so hard. But really, can you blame me?



Anyhow, as much as I enjoyed living the back of a truck in the middle of nowhere, Jet and I have decided to look for something a bit more settled -- possibly even with a house involved. We decided to head back home to help Jet's dad with some work, and to apply for some new jobs (which is much more easily done with internet and a phone).

It is very nice to be home. As we drove up the lane, we could see Jet's dad on his big horse Hagar, amongst the cattle. He rode up to the fence and shook hands with Jet, and gave me a nod and a 'Kathleen,' then we headed up to the house for tea. Jet and his dad sat down and talked cattle and horses, while I curled up and took a much needed nap.

We brand the weaners, tomorrow.

I'm excited for the future... Onward to the next adventure!

May 7, 2010

LOOK at what was in my kitchen yesterday!



That, my friends, is a yellow bellied python. Jet tells me that this is what happens when you have too many frogs in your kitchen. Jet has been on my case for a few days now to let him 'relocate' some of my froggy friends. Alas, three of them have now been relocated to Mr. Python's stomach (if you look closely you can see the bumps in the snake). Most of the rest made a mad dash for safety, which was actually pretty funny to see. Don't worry -- it's not a dangerous snake. Unless you're a frog, that is.

Here's a picture in memory of my froggy friends:



We have a few days off, starting tomorrow. It's time to move camp to Milgara station. I have been promised a much nicer kitchen setup at this next station, but I have also been told the internet is much spottier. I promise to update as soon as possible, though!

May 4, 2010

Not much to report today. I baked cookies, baked quiche, and made a roast.

Here's a picture of a sunrise:



Jet thinks I am very silly for taking pictures of sunrises and sunsets. He says I now live in a land of beautiful skies, and that there is no point in taking a picture of it, since there will be another just as nice the next day. I wanted to share it with you guys, though.

I suppose there was one bit of excitement, but it really had nothing to do with me at all. As I was going about my day, I couldn't help but notice that Sarah's (Lee's fiancée) car kept going back and forth down the road. Seems she was on her way into town to get her ankle looked at when she noticed someone passed out on the side of the road. It was one of the ringers from Magowra (not one of ours) -- we think she had fallen off her horse and hit her head, or else fallen off her horse due to heat exhaustion. Anyhow, Sarah drove her to the hospital, during which time she never regained consciousness. She did come to at the hospital -- Sarah said she could hear her cursing and screaming -- and was flown to Mount Isa (the next ‘big’ town) for care. Sarah never did get her ankle looked at…

May 3, 2010

My ringers didn’t come home until after 7:00 last night. Long day, considering they left at 5:00 am. They came home caked in mud and dust. I guess they spent the day inoculating cattle, and also, at some point along the way hit a pig with the truck. I asked why they didn’t bring it home for me, and Jet told me that wild pig meat was decidedly not good eating. This seems strange to me, as I believe the story with the pigs in Australia is that Captain Cook released them upon intervals along his travels so that any shipwrecked men would have a source of food. These days, there are professional pig hunters whose sole purpose is to ‘control’ the pig problem. Long Island, where I worked in the WhitSundays, had a resident wild pig that was far bigger than I was.

I haven’t posted an update on my toilet in a while… The pipes connecting the tank and bowl are so jammed up with frogs that no longer works at all. For a time, the toilet was working perfectly at around 3:00 am, presumably because the frogs had all vacated it for their nocturnal ramblings. This is very upsetting. The fact that the toilet worked was one of the key benefits to the cooks schedule ( I have to have the fixings for lunch laid out and breakfast ready by 4:30 am).

Today's picture is of a cane toad.



I took this picture under one of our spotlights... The cane toads gather under them because the flies are attracted to light, and they know the eating is good. Some nights you can see as many as 20 of them under one light. Cane toads, much like pigs, are not indigenous to Australia. They were introduced in the early part of the 20th century to combat a beetle that was eating the sugar cane. Unfortunately, they proved to have no interest in eating said beetles. Equally unfortunately, they are extremely prodigious breeders. The government encourages people to kill cane toads whenever possible: they officially advise putting them in the freezer for a couple of days so they freeze to death, and then burying them. However, most people seem to prefer disposing of their cane toads through two sports: Cane Toad Cricket and Cane Toad Golf. Guess how they’re played.

Just to show you how big and ugly these critters are, here's another picture of one I found online.



(Some kids keep them as pets).

May 2, 2010

The ants finally discovered my baking supplies yesterday. I was so upset I started hollering and cursing. I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later, but still, to say I was unimpressed would not be an understatement. Sarah, who was in camp nursing a sprained ankle, came out to see what was the matter: “Oh, is that all?” she said. But it really is kind of a big deal, unless people want to eat ants at every meal. Maybe this is why so many of the older recipes call for the flour and sugar to be sifted? To get the ants out? …And of course the weevils.

Weevils may not be quite so noticeable, but they are also a problem in a bush kitchen. I found my first one in the flour my second day in camp. The cookbook Jet’s mom gave me does have a helpful suggestion for preventing weevils: Put a tin can with a candle in your flour bin, and light it before you close the lid. It extinguishes itself once it has consumed all the available oxygen in the bin, and weevils can’t live in an airless environment.

Here is another helpful hint from the same cookbook: if you are planning on eating an old chicken, chase the bird down while it is still alive and pour a tablespoon of vinegar down its throat -- then wait 15 minutes before chopping its head off. The vinegar makes the meat tender, apparently. I have no intention of trying that any time soon, but if someone else decides to, please let me know how it goes!

And now, my frog of the day...

May 1, 2010
My internet does not appear to be working this morning. After three mornings of internet, I was starting to take it for granted. It’s connected, with a fair to middling signal, but msn won’t sign in, and every page I try to go to online says Internet Explorer cannot display the webpage. Goddamnit.

I think I squished a baby lizard today while making breakfast. I try to keep the light off as much as possible, because the bugs swarm whenever they see light, and when I turned it on, there was a little lizard, separated from its tail, and looking decidedly flat. It had disappeared when I came into the kitchen again, and while I would like to believe that it made a miraculous recovery I think someone may have moved it while I wasn’t looking.

Two girls with me in camp today: Sarah hurt her ankle a few days ago, and Bree has some sort of stomach bug. Jet would say (and has) that they need to take a teaspoon of cement and harden up a bit.

It was just me, Jet, and Ding in camp last night (Friday night). I cooked them up some leftovers, and then we all went to bed. I don’t understand how all the others can go into town and party while knowing that they have a 5:00 am start time the next morning.

You know, when I first came to Australia it was the wet season, and it used to sometimes make me crazy the way Jet seemed to barely be working at all. I understand a bit better now. We work really long days now and I’ve been told we may have a day off in another month or so. I can’t really complain, though: the pay is good, I enjoy my job, and when I get up in the morning I can see the southern cross shining in the sky.

Well, if the internet isn’t going to work I may as well go back to sleep for another hour or so. (It’s 6:30 am right now).

Jet’s days, meanwhile are slightly different than mine… He came home last night with the tale of cutting cancerous testicles off of a calf that were bigger than tennis balls.

I haven't shown you any pictures of my house, have I? Well, here it is:

April 26, 2010

The insurers came by camp last night. I found it kind of interesting to see. Two fellows showed up with a bottle of booze that they gave to Lee and then then got down to business. They went over a bunch of plans with Jet and a young ringer (he's 16), Nathan, then filled out the paperwork on my kitchen 'counter' aka the deep freeze. They stayed for supper (or as they call it here, tea) and then rolled out their swags and stayed the night.

Breakfast was a disaster today. I misheard the time, partly due to deafness and partly due to the fact that I don't speak Australian. I'm not sure what Jet's excuse is, since he also misunderstood the time. Anyhow, I thought it was supposed to be at 5:45 am, when in fact it was at 5:15 am. I was rather puzzled when I went to the kitchen at a little after 5:00 am and there were people sitting around in the dark outside. Needless to say, no one got poached eggs today.

And now, some pictures of the little frog who decided to camp out in my gravy pot last night.

April 25, 2010

Rainbow this morning. Took some pictures of it, but my camera was dying.



We were talking about education while sitting at smoko today (herbed scones fresh out of the oven with butter) I think the conversations started with some talk of how terrible the food was at boarding school. Jet and our boss, Lee, both went to boarding school as teenagers. That's fairly typical for 'bush kids': they go to the school of distance education for their formative years, and then when they are around 13 or 14 they're sent into town for school.

Back in the days when Jet was attending the school of education, roll call and some schoolwork was done over the radio, with tests completed at home and mailed in. These days, for the most part, it's done online.

Jet says the current school of distance education is prejudiced against bush kids and is more directed at town parents who for one reason or another choose to keep their kids out of public school. When he was a kid, he would always rush to finish his schoolwork as fast as possible so he could go out and help his dad with the work. Nowdays, the school of distance education doesn’t allow that. There are set hours for school, and you have to stay in by the computer for those, just like you would if you were in town attending school.

And now, for some pictures of frogs. In spite of the fact that they clog up toilets, frogs are still my friends because they eat bugs.

April 24, 2010

I have seen 3 dogs wandering around camp this morning… a black dog, a patchy dog, and a brown one. I am not sure if they are ours or not, as I haven’t really taken the time to get to know them all personally. I know that Sarah aka ’Susie’ and Bree aka ‘George’ came by and took some dogs, but I have no idea which ones. Went and looked in Bree’s kennel, and there are no dogs there, which means two of them could be her and Jake‘s.

…Bree came back: two of them were indeed her dogs.

A smell has been wafting into my kitchen all day. It smells like something rotting. I keep pausing to smell myself, just to confirm that the smell isn’t me. I saw one of the random dogs rolling in something earlier, and have to wonder if that’s it.
In other news, the ants have discovered my kitchen. Ants are another thing I have had to get adjusted to. Of course we have ants in Canada… But the ants in Australia, much like the frogs, are of a different breed. I first encountered them in full force while I was witnessing on Long Island in the Whitsundays: if anyone dropped food on the floor, it was swarmed by ants within minutes. It took me a while to get used to the fact that I couldn’t leave a bag of chips on my desk while I went into the other room -- anything not sealed tight or refrigerated they get into. Now they are in my dishes and all over my counters. Jet gave me some heavy duty bug killer, but whenever I spray them, they just divert their efforts in a new direction. Gah.

April 22, 2010

6:30 a.m.
The toilet has stopped working again. F**king frogs.

I also need to figure out what is wrong with my breakfasts. They are barely being touched, and Lee (the boss) hasn’t eaten any since the first day. I could have sworn he said he was a big breakfast eater, too.

I slipped coming down the ramp from the kitchen this morning and all the muffins wound up on the ground. Brushed them off as best I could, but it was dark and I couldn’t see much. I’d say some people will be eating dirt for lunch today.

They came home at around noon yesterday, much to my surprise and dismay. Jet says I am the perfect cook -- that most people whine about being alone in camp all day.
I am not in a good mood.

7:00 am
Just went to the toilet, and it flushed. Looks like it was a false alarm earlier… The frogs must have moved on.

3:14 pm
The crew came home for lunch today. Tomorrow I’m told they’ll be back for coffee breaks or ‘smoko’ as well. Just as the first of the crew -- a likable ’bloke’ known as Lucky -- had arrived I spotted a snake down by the area where I wash my dishes. I went and got Lucky, but by the time we returned, the snake was gone. Lucky asked me to describe it -- brownish, and about three feet long -- and assured me that it was probably harmless.

Half an hour later, I was standing by the kitchen talking to Jet when the same snake or its close relative came slithering up. I am informed that it was not a harmless snake after all, but rather a brown snake, which is quite poisonous. While it will not be bothering us again, I have been informed it quite possibly had a nest somewhere nearby.

There are two facts I learned about snakes during my first week in Australia:
1) the only snake is a dead snake
2) it is illegal to kill snakes

Here is another fact that I learned about snakes while on a hike in the Grampians in Victoria, Australia. While mature snakes are more poisonous, baby snakes have more venomous bites as they release all their venom in one bite rather than striking several times as their adult counterpart does. Jet says he has never heard that fact, and since he has never heard it, it must be bullsh*t because he knows everything.

Time to go check on my pot roast.

A few of my cooking experiments... The first is a meat pie with the name of the contracting company we are working for on it.

April 21, 2010

6:00 am
Everyone’s headed out for the day, and I have the camp to myself… Just the way I like it. I had a slight explosion at breakfast today when one of the girls asked if I had any more lettuce… It appears the first three people used the whole bowl in their sandwiches… I put out another bowl, but I think people may have been too scared to touch it, as it was pretty much all still there when I put everything away. Jet told me it was all right -- it’s good to put a fear of the cook in ringers.

Ringer is another word I hadn’t heard before I came to Australia, at least not in the sense that they use it here… A ringer, as Jet has explained to me can mean several things: in a shearing barn, a ringer is the fastest (sheep) shearer, or in other words, the one who runs ‘rings’ around the others. In an extension of that, a person who is the best or most experienced at their job can be referred to as a ringer. A ringer can also refer to a person who is a kind of jack-of-all-trades. What we are currently doing, as contractors for the station, falls into the last category of ringers.

8:30 am
A fellow came by and fixed the toilet just now… And why was the toilet not flushing? Too many frogs in the tank. Another problem I have never encountered before. He pulled three big ones about the size of my head out of the tank, and said while there were still quite a few little ones in there he was pretty sure these ones were the problem.

10:30 a.m.
The laundry is hanging to dry; the corned beef is boiling, and the muffins are out of the oven. I think I may make cookies also, in a few minutes. And I may get started on the spaghetti sauce and baguettes.
In the meantime, however, here is how you make corned beef:
Put a big thawed out or raw slab of beef in a pot full of water. Add vinegar (which keeps the meat soft), a handfull of sugar, some salt and any other spices you think might be nice. Cover the pot and let it boil a few hours. The meat is done when you jab it in the middle with a sharp object and no blood leaks out.

11:00 a.m.
Decided against cookies. They can wait ‘til tomorrow. Don’t want too much food going to waste, and they’re more likely to take the muffins if there are no cookies. It’s possible I should make quiche or some sort of healthy thing, though.

April 20, 2010

Last week, I was with Jet and his dad mustering their cattle at Ballater. Anyhow, the lady of the house, whose name I cannot remember, though her husband’s name was Alastair, told us a ‘funny’ story about a friend’s new hired couple. The girl apparently was dumb as a post. One day, when everyone was down at the stockyards, she was sent back to the house to fetch a water bottle. The girl took the owner’s four wheel drive back to the house, and when she returned, she had an empty water bottle and a flat tire. Everyone laughed at the story, including me, but my laugh was fake: while I would probably know to bring water back in the water bottle, I can see myself driving on a flat tire and wondering why it was steering funny. Plus, what would I do if I did notice it had a broken tire? I know driving on one spoils the rim, but what would my option be? If I just walked back, would they laugh at me?

…There are a lot of things in the outback that I don’t know about.

Today, my problem is meat. I have steak out, but I only know how to cook it on the barbecue, and I already did that for breakfast today. Was going to maybe make a casserole, but I am very unclear as to how one make such a thing, and the cookbooks seem to just assume I know these basics, as all the recipes they offer me, even in the bush cooking one Jet‘s mom gave me, call for loads of ingredients I don’t have.

And now, a picture of my laundry room...

First day of work... a new adventure begins!

April 19, 2010

So here we are at Magowra Station. It's a beautiful day, that looks like it's working itself up to be another scorcher: the sun is shining, the dogs are barking (as they do pretty much continuously), and the birds are chirping.

We're camped beside Magowra station's homestead. There are nine of us in all. The youngest two (both 16) are sleeping in tents while the rest of us sleep in our hrse trailers. This is not nearly as primitive as it sounds -- at least not Jet's and my case -- we have a double bed with a mosquito net canopy, a large fan, a bedside table, shelving and a 'walk in closet.' There is a fairly nice vacant house right beside our camp. We use the toilet and the shower in there: the toilet is not flushing, which is kind of annoying. We have to use a bucket to flush it manually.

We've been here at Magowra for two days now, but this is my first day of work. I’m alone in camp, as everyone else has headed off for the day. On the schedule for today:
-clean the shower and the toilet
-make corned beef
-bake cookies or cupcakes
-make dinner: shepherds pie and a dessert, maybe?
-write
-play the mandolin
-do laundry

Gosh, I lead a hard life. By the way, I'm a cook, if you didn't know.

And now, for our photo of the day, a Kelpie puppy that is tied up beside the kitchen: