Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Town Mouse, Country Mouse
It's getting closer to full moon and the magpies have started carolling through the night. I live out of town now. It's country to cows, alpacas and green, green paddocks. It is what is quaintly termed 'semi-rural', which means that as the town spread, the dairy/sheep holdings on the edges of town were sold off and split up into manageable lots for families who didn't want to farm ... but sort of did. To this day they are trying to find a shearer who will do a dozen sheep, the bloke who will contain their three heifers within a decent electric fence.
The bandicoots and possums that inhabited my old digs are not here. I blame the foxes. In town, the native marsupials live in fruit trees, road side burrows and under the floorboards. Town (and especially Bob's house) thrives with the critters.
However, I've had a few bonfires in town but they have been generally met with a neighbourly grumpiness about washing, flying embers or that the ferals are taking over.
On a few acres, you can invite the neighbours, crack open the kerosene and party, while the piled-up eucalyptus remnants of the year's storms crank their fire fairies into the sky.