As two of our number bask in the Australian sunshine, I find myself in a very familiar frame of mind. Checking back over past years blogs, I find that I’m right in feeling a sense of deja vu; early winter usually sees a dropping off of my posts. It’s not that I’m down or disillusioned or overly busy, it’s simply that feeling of having nothing newsworthy worth reporting. While the majority of you are strolling in the balmy, blooming, evening garden and contemplating holidays abroad and/or jolly jaunts, here everything is edging into bare-limbed, huffy-breathcloud hibernation. So, having taken the time to identify the reason for my patchy posting, I have thrown caution to the wind and fingers at the keyboard and here you have it: this week’s Homestead happenings.

Firstly, we waved off the Tiny Housers.

They’re now soaking up the warmth of the Gold Coast in the company of Melton West’s Queen, leaving The Princess’ menagerie in our humble care or, more specifically, Farm Girl’s very capable hands. All is well when she is able, but today Farm Girl is laid low with a stomach bug and so the task fell to me. Now, The Princess has a very definite fondness for the critters I…well – folks, she likes rodenty things! So,this morning, with my jeans tucked into my socks, I ventured out to feed Basil and Juniper the rabbits and Oreo and Brave the guinea pigs. My mate June, having seen through the facade to the quavering wreck I am around scuttling, scampering, nibbly-chewing types, and made a beeline for the overlooked open foodbin from which I had to manually extract her. I was fine after my morning coffee. Interestingly, after the rat episode of my last missive, I once again found myself bolstering myself up with noise; this time bellowing Local Boy in the Photograph by the Stereophonics (for reasons I will go into in a moment) whilst grabbing and rabbit repositioning. Juniper and Basil took it all in their hoppy stride.

Sidenote: no photos of J & B as everytime I lowered myself groundwards to capture them at their best, they charged at me. I’d like to think it was in excitement but I’m not convinced.

After a patch of utterly dismal weather, we’ve had a week of frosty mornings and clear days; my favourite type of winter day.

The sun has prompted the broadbeans to show themselves, and Babette to writhe dangerously close to my farm boots but the goats have a definite air of making the most of it; they don’t need a weather forecaster to tell them that this ain’t gonna last.

In all honesty, a proper downpour is exactly what we need to get a bit more cover on the paddocks and ease the burden on our hay and sheepnut stores.

I’ve opened the gate between the two back paddocks, but still need to supplement feed. Colin enjoys patrolling the fenceline, snaffling the sheepnuts that ricochet off woolly backs during the duck and dive feeding frenzy.

My days have been spent raking leaves – I think this will be my last circuit of the season –

and preserving the freezer fruit (this week: passionfruit. Yep, I know it’s an acquired taste but one spoonful – preferably over ice cream while the Homestead fire blazes – can transport The Bean Counter and I right back to our 1970’s childhood) with Alexa providing the soundtrack.

Which brings me back to the Stereophonics and has me sending a huge thank you and hooray to Rocka-Buy Records. Just when I’d reached the end of my I-haven’t-heard-that-for-years (Pearl Jam and, incidentally, The Jam) and I-used-to-own-that-on-vinyl (Psychedelic Furs, Thompson Twins and Talking Heads) ideas for kitchen yodel-along , they posted the first five of their 100 Albums to Listen to Before You Die. So far, I’ve spent a day with the Stereophoics Word Gets Around and Etta James Seven Year Itch and I’m listening to Jellyfish’s Spilt Milk as I type. They say a change is as good as a holiday.

Whilst it’s not the Gold Coast, my ears certainly think so.