Safety and Security or Prison?

The walnut tree as shown in the picture, is growing in what was once the hollow stump of a white box [eucalyptus albens] which was in earlier times sacrificed to produce fence posts. The walnut seed would, by most, be viewed as fortunate. Dropped by a Chough or some other bird down through the hollow centre of this stump to land atop the fertile soil created over the years by the rotting centre of its guardian. With the occasional rainfall and sunshine which travelled the same way it did itself, the walnut would have germinated and grown, cossetted and secure by thick walls of hard wood into a healthy seedling enjoying sanctuary delivered by the remnants of this once powerful tree. It would have been above the reach of most hungry and exploring mouths looking for green in a surrounding landscape of brown, even when it finally burst out over the top of its refuge.



Through the years the young tree grew vigorously and healthily and faster now it's leaves were all exposed to longer periods of sunshine. But as it did so, it would have found the hollow which protected it somewhat restrictive, a bit too close, and the tree trunk now became a prison which the young tree had to break open or it would be at least stifled, and at worst strangled to death.

So when does security become a prison? When does it stifle us and become a burden which we can't endure without shrinking back and becoming smaller to save ourselves from being strangled, can we break open that which holds us in thrall? In most cases what is at first security becomes something which will make life difficult for us, even if it lulls us into what we think is wellbeing for a short time, eventually it will let us down and it does that because it doesn't exist, it was always a prison.

Helen Keller wrote:

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. Security does not exist in nature, nor do children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than exposure.

So though something might appear to be secure at first, may not continue to give us this feeling as time passes, and when needed is finally seen to be just what it in fact is; a mirage disappearing when we actually need it, leaving us disillusioned and unprepared.

Involuntary Exercise

The sheep wait at the gate ready to be let out onto the common. The dogs are watching them, laying on the ground, their heads moving in every direction where there is movement in the small flock. They are accustomed to this routine as are the sheep, and I walk down through them and prop open the gate with a stick that is always there for the purpose. Then I walk out the drive, onto the road and ensure that there are no other sheep on the common with which ours might be boxed. I hear the wind in the trees along the main road this morning while watching the woollies come through the gate, counting them after confirming that the ground where they will graze for 9 hours of the day is empty, except for an odd kangaroo.

This is a morning routine but not the last we will see of the sheep, for they cannot be left alone on the unfenced common, there are many dangers, man created and those that nature presents even as they graze. The cars that travel the main road adjoining the common are of the mainstream, they race everywhere, even if they reach their destination and then only have a cup of coffee and a gossip, or just wander round wondering what they might do now; they are always in a rush. While we of the alternative lifestyle walk the 3 kilometres round trip to ensure the sheep don't go onto the flat that will invariably lead them onto the road. The sweet briar without any foliage grabs at our clothes as we walk, as if asking us to top a moment and view the scenery round us. It holds us only a moment. Long enough for us to realise that we might have missed something on the walk and we take stock, glance around again over the path we have travelled and the path we have yet to tread. The dogs quarter the ground as we venture out, we can smell the musky scent where the fox has marked his stops on the nightly journey. Even though we will make this trip at least twice, sometimes up to 4 times a day, the dogs will find new scents and sights to investigate every time, new things, as we do ourselves.

Some of society would say that walking 3 or 4 kilometres every day to check sheep is a waste of time, the tasks that shepherds perform have never been valued highly. In the corporate world there is too much to do to waste time like this, hence the great haste to drive everywhere quickly, and yet - in the corporate world people need to jog or join a gym or do some other often unnatural and gratuitous action for exercise. Much in the corporate world has been said to be high pressure, and that suits some people, but even those it suits need to wind down and are finding life not as fulfilling as they had imagined. In the world of living simply there is no time wasted, because the walk is exercise and suitable because every minute is interesting and quite often new. Places reached, things seen, observed and noted for future reference. There is the company of others, dogs, partner, that walk as well and the discussion regarding grass length, paddock suitability or tree growth are the subject of conversation, or if there is no conversation, it matters not at all. Because the mind is presented with something to think about at every step. New and fresh wombat diggings, rabbit scratchings and squats, the fox track, the places where the deer have been grazing on the last of the blackberry leaves during the night hours. The strange weather conditions which have left the blackberries with leaves this late in the season and made the daffodil bulbs shoot months too early and the unusual behaviour by trees, flowers and have caused people to suddenly, probably too late, worry about the way they have degraded the atmosphere.

The mainstream people are really in trouble and look forward to holidays and weekends or when they are trying to enjoy themselves on these days find they cannot and are actually looking forward to get back to the routines and environment where they think they feel comfortable and in control. The Alternative lifestyle people never feel the need to be in control, just to be awake.

The dogs move down the slope onto the flat and bring the sheep slowly up from where they might just trespass onto an area that could mean their death and we watch as they are again moving in a direction that will take them to graze on other grasses, possibly not as good as the ones from which they have been slowly guided, but good enough for their needs and growing in a much safer place. Then we start for home again, and we can get other things done before we once again engage ourselves in this valuable but involuntary exercise and learning.

Loppers.......

Many years ago, at the Bright autumn market, I saw a stall selling ratchet type incremental cutting secateurs and loppers, and was amazed how good they looked their sturdy build, and the possibility of replacing each part as well. These pruning tools were obviously made to a standard and purpose rather than a price. I liked them very much, but they cost a considerable amount of money to buy, and as ever, money is a problem when it's not in the pocket so I passed by and looked at this stall and it's tools each year.

Being a lifestyle farmer in an area with unreliable and unpredictable rainfall, it is necessary to cut large quantities of Tagasaste and loppers and secateurs have always been used for this purpose, sometimes using these tools everyday for hours at a time to ensure our small flock of sheep have sufficient food for their needs. It was always the cheap loppers that we bought, loppers that were as low as $20.oo a pair on special from the large hardware chains stores, though usually much more expensive than this. So the years passed and cheap loppers after cheap loppers were bought and wore out, or broke after a very little time. Some were better than others, but none would last more than a year with the work that we had for them, and they failed in various ways and through various parts wearing away.

Just over 2 years ago we were at the Bright autumn market again, and found ourselves in front of that loppers secateurs stall that sold these excellent loppers and after a moments arithmetic working out just how much had been spent on the cheap loppers over the years and discovered the money would have bought three of these really good loppers a purchase was made. It hasn't been regretted, the tools work just as they are supposed to and they are both sturdy and very versatile. Being slightly heavier at the mechanical head is not a deterrent to their use, and they work without any problems, and they cut anything that is asked of them. Buying these was one of the very best tool investments ever made, and there is a certain amount of chagrin that it took so long to realise the value of this tool and that knowing now how good they are and how well they work, I would pay twice the price for the same article and know I was still getting value for money. I have no doubt used them on branches that might otherwise be considered too thick to cut and could be described as extreme use or even abuse to some degree. Many branches that these loppers cut should be cut by a pruning saw. They are so versatile and useful that they do the job just the same, cutting anything they can get their jaws round.

These loppers cut easier when using them to cut diagonally across a branch at about 30 degrees rather than straight across, but either way they will do the job, though it takes less arm power to cut diagonally and there is the feeling of slicing the branch.

Having no affiliation with the company that sells these tools and I feel free to note the web address here so any who wish to check out the products can do so: http://www.2wp.com.au/

Fe

Fe is the mother of Wormwood, who is so named because as a lamb, and still now, he eats that plant and we expect that he will never get any intestinal worms, and are surprised he not only likes it but appears to have no ill affects from its consumption. Fe - Floppy ear and pronounced f-ee, was a poddy from a year when we had chosen not to have any more poddies, especially females. Because after all, if their mothers abandon them this could be a hereditary condition which would be removed if the lamb is abandoned and eaten by the fox and the mother sold. But is perpetuated by poddying the ewe lamb and allowing it to have babies of its own, with similar genes possibly. We didn't listen to our own sound reasoning, heard only the small lamb calling its long gone mother. So we picked it up and it obviously wanted to live because it sucked at the rubber teat with that inclination, a strong life force and consequently grew up and got in lamb herself and had Wormwood.

Fe comes for a feed from the scoop we carry to feed the poultry each morning, and loves their seed as much as she loves Tagasaste and the most succulent grasses and just about all grains. The dogs welcome her when she comes to the cottage off her night camp in the hills and shows no fear of them, as she has long been associated with a different environment than the one she would have experienced as a sheep in the paddock. The dogs touch noses with her, they wagging their tails even when she pulls away from their doggy breath and goes about the business of mopping up the triticale left on the ground by the poultry. Triticale being the bulk out grain of the poultry seed which the birds other than the guinea fowl don't eat unless there is nothing else on offer. Fe and Wormwood both utilise these leftovers. Nothing is ever wasted here, though it wouldn't be wasted if left on the ground anyway as nothing is wasted in nature.

Though having no fear of the dogs, Fe will do as they direct if I order them to push her along a bit when she is recalcitrant and doesn't want to leave her feeding ground or is a bit slow in her pace leaving the common or changing paddocks. She knows the tone of my voice, and when the demeanour of the dogs suggests obedience is the best way to avoid conflict, and does so with an attitude that seems to say, "oh all right." Wormwood will stay close to his mother and do as she does in these situations, but on his own will tolerate the dogs less, yet obey them better if their body language indicates they are working, and into the serious business of being sheep dogs, not friends with whom to wile away the time.

The advantage of having a poddy sheep in the flock is that it will come in close to the cottage and keep the grass down, trim any plants that dare put their heads through the fence and generally tidy up. Other benefits are evident as well, like it being easy to check her wool to make certain it's dry, before shearing or crutching is attempted. So Fe is a member of our environment as we are of hers.