selling the farm
A couple of acres just west of Bangalow, the Nightcap Ranges on the horizon, Minyon Falls a misty white streak there on a clear day after rain.
September 1. The sun strengthening, the earth warming. Much to do.
Mow, clear, hack, plant, cut back, pull down, put up, paint, make-new. Four cubic metres of black earth delivered, three of Cypress bark chips, two of sugar-cane mulch. Twenty of road-base for a new driveway surface.
Service the ride-on mower, the hedge trimmer, the brush cutter, the pool pump. Sharpen the axe, clear the shed of any hideaway bush rats. Poison the mice, clear the gutters, renew the netting over the orchid house, tidy up the benches. Prune the fruit trees, hope for mangoes when inspection time arrives. When all the trees are in fruit we can give them away by the box full.
Hire a young lass from Brooklet to replant the garden beds and fill the couple of dozen terra-cotta pots wired up on the trellis under the bedroom windows. Beatrice. Call me Be she says.
We should have warned her.
A couple of days after planting the pots we had a surprise visitor, and it was at least five minutes before Beatrice saw him. Even though he was only inches away from her as she checked the pots.