A story....Part 1

(Looking down towards the farm house and sheds - where I grew up)

Instead of my usual photos on Monday, I am doing something different. I would like to tell you a story, with the first part tonight and the second part tomorrow. 

 

I grew up in country South Australia (a state of Australia) – in a beautiful long thin valley with a pine forest on one side and the family farm on the other. A creek ran along the narrow valley next to a gravel road.  My dad grew fruit (apples, pears, peaches, plums etc) and my mum taught at the local school.  It was an idyllic lifestyle – we had freedom to wander anywhere on the farm and off I would go off and let my imagination run wild.

When my brothers were old enough they worked on the farm picking fruit during the summer months – I avoided this being the only girl, something I was very pleased about, as I hated getting hot and dirty (ok  I was a bit of a princess). 

In the winter months the landscape would become lush green and the creek flowed enough for my brothers to build dams in it and got me to test how deep the dams were (I would get very wet).  I would also catch tadpoles and take them home and wait for them to turn into frogs.  I think more died than became frogs!  In summer the grass would brown and the valley would become very dry, you knew when summer was in its way, (you could smell it in the are)  – all except the garden my dad spent hours in.  It was a magnificent garden full of beautiful trees and shrubs, roses and bulbs.  It was a paradise to any child.  It had lovely sweeping lawns that were great to play on or lie and watch the stars at night.  Whenever I smell that “mowed lawn” smell it reminds me of my childhood.  My large extended family often came to visit – we had many memorable parties on the lawn and many cousins spent weekends and holidays with us, in particular my cousin Fran.

 

However it was to come to an abrupt end when I was 16 years old - something I have never dream't would happen (but always feared) was about to occur.....

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 (The front entrance to the home)

 

(This is me writing a letter on the front lawn, aged 10)