in the last post may have lead you to believe that I was going to photograph, in terrifying detail, the mustering, drafting and trucking of sale cattle.
Guess what? This is about as much detail as you are going to get out of that misadventure.
On Tuesday afternoon I hurriedly collected the children from school, pushed them out the door at their cousins place for the afternoon, and rushed on my way to the paddock to assist in the round up of the rascally bovines. Clad in drizabone against the drizzly rain and freezing breeze when travelling at speed on my motorbike, I arrived to find the steers poking along like Browns Cows, with nary a twinkle in their eyes. Removed from their home turf, their manners had returned and one man could have brought them home, dawdling at the rear.
Needless to say, I had time to reflect on the rush of the preceding hour, and was quietly pleased when husband said, most thoughtfully, he probably wouldn't need my help the next day.
I could have trusted him with my camera, but I trust him even less than our helicopter pilot mate (who still has my other camera) when it comes to my most treasured possessions!
Reports are they loaded like little lambs and have since arrived and been weighed at their destination (Condamine, a looooong way from home) and are likely, as I type, chowing down on some grain and getting ready to arrive on the supermarket shelf in around 90 days.
With that, let me end by sharing a snippet of my soon to be sister in law's garden. The kids are excited. In under four weeks time they become part of the wedding party.