The faraway tree: our little piece of forest on the farm

From the forest into the light

From the forest into light

This has been a tedious morning of fence repairs – bending staples in decades-old wobbly hardwood posts and untangling cantankerous strands of barbed wire – so when we found a tree over the fence in the bush block, the kids and I broke it with a little “adventure”.

Inside our boundaries lies just 11 hectares of largely unremarkable bush. But it is a wonder, too, full of secret paths, dripping lichen and toadstools. After early hesitation, the kids relished their chance to explore this forgotten forest, darting here and there down the wallaby tracks, ducking under monstrous spider webs and peering into mysterious hidey-holes.

Days like this, it’s great to be a milk maid!


Filed under Environment, Family and parenting, Farm

10 responses to “The faraway tree: our little piece of forest on the farm

  1. What wondrous memories they will have!


  2. Everyone should have an Aussie bush memory….


  3. It’s the vegan man here. Hi again!
    I have to say, Marian, you have a lovely style of writing. Have you ever written a book?
    My upbringing was on a potato farm at Robertson NSW. Besides the crop and grazing paddocks there was a lot of bush, perhaps roughly 250 acres . While most of the bush was, I guess, dry sclerophyll with a variety of shapely gums, tee trees, banksias and waratahs and other wonderful wild flowers, there was one special block. Probably around two to three acres, we aptly called it “the Jungle Paddock.” Quite different to any of the other bush, It was mostly untouched and was probably as it was in ancient times. The trees were rainforest types with lots of twisted vines and running down the centre of this rectangular block was a that creek trickled in droughty times and gushed after rains. It had a moist atmosphere, replete with mossy fallen trees and was an endless fun playground for my siblings and me. I cannot but feel sorry that my city cousins missed out on a wonderful experience not living in a place like that. Wiht the dogs running on ahead to our treehouse cubby – just a platfrm really – and a disused pigs hut which we called the “Red Dagger Club.” Your description above transported me back and how nice it is to have such memories to visit.
    My best,
    Ralph Graham


  4. You’re funny.
    I have a few chapters of a novel about an Irish convict written – now on the back burner – but that’s another story ( 🙂 )
    One day.
    R 🙂


  5. Pingback: Why Landcare matters | The Milk Maid Marian

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