The first weekend of tree planting went very well. So well in fact I doubt I can wring any amusing anecdotes from it.
This is the shed we built:
The grand tour of the ‘mouseleum’
There were a significant number of dead mice and at least twice as much mouse-poo in the shed when we got there. Matt had mouse-proofed the shed with expanding foam, and had trapped a number on them in the shed, obviously. pee-eeuww.
The bedroom (Jimmy and Tom are required to share the foldout sofa bed) and the living area (which is where the tractor normally lives).
The Pantechnicon of dreams
It was a bit muddy underfoot, but not raining. We took spare clothes and made the first change of clothes about 30 minutes after arriving. The kids found the one largish puddle, and Jimmy decided the best way to ensure he wouldn’t fall over was to pull Tom down with him. While berating him for his foolishness and finding them both clean clothes I noticed Moo (who had witnessed all this from the sidelines) deciding to wade into the centre of said puddle, and promptly fall over. So, because we did not have a pantechnicon of spare clothes trundling behind us, I hung all the wet and muddy clothes on a clothesline and recycled them dirty onto the children as they (clothes and kids) dried. The gumboots were worth their weight in gold.
This is not something I often say…
…but I was wr…wr…wr…wrong when I told Matt I didn’t think we needed a tractor. Bloody hell the soil is clay-ey. At home we have sandy, dead, water repellent shit, but at least it is easy to fork a bit of manure and compost through it. Matt spent ages with the augur (see above photo) on the back of the tractor digging large holes, which we subsequently back filled. We then dug small holes in the centre for the seedlings, packed the clay back around the roots and mulched with a combination of sugar cane mulch (local organic waste) and grass we had slashed in the surrounding paddock. We then used the super-dooper tree guards we bought from the greening Australia nursery. It took about twice as long as I thought it would. Everything always does.
Alfresco.
We ate our meals, al fresco. A bit too bloody fresco, if you ask me.
The toilet and other ‘facilities’
I am always struck by the notion that when camping, I always strive to make everything as comfortable and homelike as possible, to the point where I wonder why I bothered even leaving home in the first place. When we first started camping on the block (when we built the shed) all I wanted was running water instead of having to fill containers. Now we have a water tank installed near the shed we have running water on tap, but I’m thinking it would be nice if it was heated, and attached to a shower.
Similarly the toilet – at first it was a hole in the ground. Then Matt made a toilet from an old kitchen chair and a toilet seat. Luxury. But now I’m thinking there must be something better…
By the way, Matt dug the toilet pit with the augur this time and it made a rather large hole. Which was handy from a speed point of view (Matt can never understand why I insist the toilet is the first thing he needs to do upon arrival) but meant the toilet seat was perched rather precariously over the hole. It added a certain frisson of danger to doing a wee in the dark, but one I could do without. Visions of red-back spiders and/or snakes curled up under the seat don’t help either. I’m sure if I fell in, bum first, Matt would rescue me, just as soon as he stopped laughing.
Helpful children.
By dint of taking no toys, a few books and no TV or electronic games (or electricity for that matter) we had three willing helpers. Moo helped by drying dishes (not something she does at home, mind you); she thought it was ‘fun’. The boys collected mulch, sorted out the tree guards, collected firewood, made cups of tea in the billy. They actually enjoy helping, which is good. And there was plenty of time for them to muck around.
