By Rosemary Easton
Here’s the latest contributions from the Rose City Writers – this week, from local author ROSEMARY EASTON….also remember to check out FLEUR LIND’S website – Fleursfabulousfables.wordpress.com
‘A ROLL IN THE HAY’
Jimmy slept late this morning. I went to wake him.
“Wake up, Jimmy,” I said. “You have a big day ahead of you.”
“I’m too tired, Mum. I’ve been working hard all night.”
“Lazy Bones! Up you get.”
Jimmy struggled from beneath his doona. He had scratches on his arms and legs and grease on his face.
“What on earth have you been doing, son?”
He drew a deep breath and told me this story.
Great grand Pop visited me last night around eight thirty. He asked me to come and help him. He was dressed in bib and brace overalls, a battered hat and wore big farm boots. He handed me a matching outfit which I donned immediately. I followed him outside.
Parked in front of the veranda was a horse and cart. Pop helped me climb on to the cart and said “Giddee up!” The horse trotted out the gate, turning into a grassy lane.
The landscape appeared different and kept changing until we were travelling through paddocks of golden oats. We pulled up at an old -style weather board house. Great Grandma meet us at the door and escorted us into a farm kitchen. A big wood stove in the corner emanated heat. A kettle bubbled on it and a delicious smell permeated the room.
“Let’s have morning tea,” she said, producing an enamel tea pot and three large pannikins. She added fresh cow’s milk from a pottery jug and plated some buttered scones “I made these this morning,” she said. She added home- made jam. Boy was it good.
“To work now, Jimmy,” smiled Pop and took me to a shed and showed me a machine called a binder. It looked rather weird, long prongs at the front, a raised seat at the side, some dangerous looking blades and a small container of twine. What looked like the shafts of the cart protruded from the front. A type of windmill structure was towards the side.
“Now to the horses.” Pop showed me two large brown Clydesdales. Their names were Star and Punch. They were finishing their oats. Pop let me lead Star and we followed him and Punch to a room filled with harness. Pop slipped blinkers, two sturdy collars and other connecting harness on the horses and backed them into the shafts of the binder.
“Up here, Jimmy,” he said, pointing to the seat. The rig was driven slowly to a smallish paddock of oats. The blades were lowered and the horses given the order to go. They walked steadily through the crop. The long prongs separated the hay and the blades cut the stalks. The windmill-like device pushed a conveyor belt to gather the hay into bundles Some mechanism tied these into something called sheaves which were thrown out behind in neat rows.
Up and down we went. Sometimes I walked. Pop guided the horses but sometimes he gave me a turn. Great Grandma arrived at lunchtime with a basket of bread, meat and cheese. She called it a Harvesters’ Lunch. She brought a billy of tea too. Pop unharnessed the horses, giving them chaff and water.
What a picnic! Great food, straw throwing, rolling on the sheaves, which were a bit scratchy. It was fun.
Some other men came into the paddock and began making little haystacks. Stookes they were called. I had a go at building them and it was like making a card house. There were soon enough to play a game of hide and seek. Pop was a master at discovery though and he won all the games.
It was a busy afternoon and tiring. Pop eventually called it a day and we returned the binder to the shed, the horses to the stable for food and water, washed the dust and dirt from our faces and were just in time for a delicious tea of mutton stew.
Pop rugged me up and brought me home just as the sun was rising.
That is why I am so tired. “Please let me sleep a little longer as Pop is coming back tonight. We are going chaff cutting.”
In the corner of Jimmy’s bedroom I found the bundle of clothes that he had described. Bits of hay clung to a jumper. I inspected our driveway and saw wagon tracks and horse manure.
I’m sure Jimmy had spent the night with his great grandparents and the story he narrated was exactly as I remember harvesting from my childhood.
I think I’ll wait around with Jimmy tonight so I can travel back to the joy of chaff cutting. Can’t wait for this experience as it was always so much fun.
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(SUBHEAD)
*OM MANI PADME HUM: BEHOLD! THE JEWEL IN THE LOTUS*
“Mum, the divorce is finalised. Free at last,” said Marion.
“Yes,” answered her mother, Sheila. “It has been a difficult process but necessary to sever all links with such a violent man.”
“Why did you wait so long?”
“I thought I needed security, a wage coming in regularly, a roof over our heads and I feared repercussions.”
“Yes, I remember the black eyes, the bruises, the shouting, the drinking, even hospitalisation. Why did you stay?”
“He threatened to take you from me if I left and that was something I could never contemplate.”
“Thanks, mum. Those days are behind us but remember our code if needed.”
Mother and daughter hugged one another, and Marion left. Sheila locked the doors and windows and began preparing dinner. She heard a key turning in the lock and froze. Remembering previous experiences, she quietly exited the house. She waited until she heard the door slam and a car driving away.
On her return she was shocked to see the destruction in the house and the smashed wedding photo on the table.
“Enough is enough,” she thought. She packed a few essential items, deliberately leaving her phone, handbag and car keys behind and left after retrieving her hidden emergency fund. She had planned for such an event.
She took a train to Sydney, bought a post card, wrote AOK, and posted it to Marion. She found accommodation at a half-way house and the next morning wandered through the shops buying a suitcase, clothing, cosmetics and other essentials, paying cash and using a credit card linked to her divorce settlement funds in the name of Tammy Watson.
Back at the house, the neighbours were concerned as they had not seen Sheila for days. They knew her history and had intervened in the past. Gaining access, they were shocked to see the destruction, the broken photo, the half -prepared meal, the phone, the handbag and car keys. The police were called and were very concerned. They took photographs and lifted fingerprints. The forensic team examined everything thoroughly. They found Marion’s phone number and address, filed a missing person’s report and set up a crime scene. The sergeant called at Marion’s house to break the news and question her. She reacted badly, sobbing and tearing her hair. She was unable to add any further information regarding her mother’s disappearance.
When the police left, she dried her eyes and burnt the post card.
Michael, the ex-husband, was the prime suspect. His fingerprints were on file from prior offences. He was found quickly and taken in for questioning. He admitted the break -in and destruction but was adamant that he not seen Sheila. As he had previously resided at the house, fingerprints and vehement denial were not sufficient evidence to charge him so he was released.
Michael continued to work, drinking heavily. He lost his job and continued the downward spiral of alcoholism, eventually becoming unemployable and homeless. He was arrested often, charged with theft, drunk and disorderly conduct and similar offences. He told anyone who would listen that his ex-wife was the cause of all his troubles. He made threats that if he ever found her, he would kill her.
He reached the depth of despair. Physically and mentally his health deteriorated. Marion was contacted as his next of kin to sign the necessary papers to have him consigned to care in a secure facility in Westmorland.
Marion knew her mother would now be safe. She had no way of contacting her and she missed their close relationship.
Letters began to arrive from the Commonwealth Bank with statements of account in Marion’s name. The balances were amazing She checked with the bank and found everything to be legitimate. “Mum,” she thought.
An invitation arrived inviting Marion to Santi Forest Monastery in Bundanoon for the celebration of a Bhikkhuni ordination on Monday, 27th March. Marion was confused but replied promptly.
On arrival she was greeted by a gracious lady, head shaved and dressed in an orange robe. Marion was ushered into a special room and asked to wait. A similarly dressed lady entered. She turned to Marion with her arms extended. “Darling Marion” she said. “Mum,” replied Marion rushing into her embrace. Tears flowed. Words failed them both. So many stories and explanations were shared. Sheila told of her search for peace of mind and the training she had received. Marion told of her marriage, her two children, showing photos to their doting grandmother. They had missed so much but each was happy with the choices made.” I have never seen you look so happy,” Marion observed.
This day was Sheila’s ordination and commissioning day as a Buddhist nun. Family contact could now be restored. The rules dictated that the nuns have no wealth, hence Marian’s legacy. Nuns would devote themselves to the care of those in need.
The ordination was sedate, calming and spiritual. Sheila was commissioned as a councillor to Westmorland Security Facility. Her first patient was Michael. Suffering from dementia, he didn’t recognise his former wife and the condition had changed his personality to a kind and considerate man. Perhaps this was the real man and circumstances had changed him in his former life.
A tolerant and loving Sheila cared for him over his declining years. His last words were,” I’m sorry. I only had one great love, my wife, Sheila.”
She placed her hands on his shoulders saying through her tears, “I forgive you.”
(**Om mani padme hum. (A Buddhist mantra). Behold! The jewel in the lotus).
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(SUBHEAD)
‘JOY’
The sky has changed from blue to grey.
“Please send us rain,” we gently pray.
An answer comes. It’s what we need.
The grass will grow. The stock will feed.
The gullies run. The waters flow.
Dams refill and faces glow.
Farmers suffered through the years,
But water will appease their fears.
Look out the window. The grass is green.
After so much drought, what a brilliant scene.
The tanks are full. Water for cooking, baths and showers,
Available now for hours and hours.
Hope ahead for the coming year.
Machines are checked with other gear
Work is planned. There’s much to do.
New stock to buy. Crops to renew.
No more money spent on hay.
We might afford a holiday.
Children play and farmers smile.
The rain has made their lives worthwhile.
(Written after initial rain!)
