This is from Tales of Mere Existence which I love.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
An Australian Hallowe'en
Or more pumpkins and some skulls
The pumpkins just didn't stop at Jimbour. And they seemed to pose just perfectly for as many $5 poster shots as I could muster.
Almost as numerous as the pumpkins were the bones of long dead cattle.
Most especially the skulls.
Old wagon wheels also seemed to vie for supremacy. But in this instance, for me, I don't think these old spokes quite trumped the sight of that leg bone in the foreground.
The old stables had displays inside telling of the history of the property.
This building was the original homestead, and was once a two story structure, but was forcibly remodelled after a fire. (More shades of The White Earth). Then, if I recall correctly, it became the accommodation for the property's workers. You can't really see it in this picture, but the blue stone from which it was built is quite beautiful.
Here's a closer look at the stone, along with a plaque that tells you of the transfers of ownership at Jimbour:
The newer homestead has itself undergone some extensive renovations, which are still in progress. This is the back of the house. That balcony doesn't look particularly safe to walk on.
The house will be even more impressive when it's fully restored. It's still a private residence, just as the property is still a working property, even if the focus is now on wine production, so there probably won't be much opportunity to do a tour of the interior for quite some time.
The pumpkins just didn't stop at Jimbour. And they seemed to pose just perfectly for as many $5 poster shots as I could muster.
Almost as numerous as the pumpkins were the bones of long dead cattle.
Most especially the skulls.
Old wagon wheels also seemed to vie for supremacy. But in this instance, for me, I don't think these old spokes quite trumped the sight of that leg bone in the foreground.
The old stables had displays inside telling of the history of the property.
This building was the original homestead, and was once a two story structure, but was forcibly remodelled after a fire. (More shades of The White Earth). Then, if I recall correctly, it became the accommodation for the property's workers. You can't really see it in this picture, but the blue stone from which it was built is quite beautiful.
Here's a closer look at the stone, along with a plaque that tells you of the transfers of ownership at Jimbour:
The newer homestead has itself undergone some extensive renovations, which are still in progress. This is the back of the house. That balcony doesn't look particularly safe to walk on.
The house will be even more impressive when it's fully restored. It's still a private residence, just as the property is still a working property, even if the focus is now on wine production, so there probably won't be much opportunity to do a tour of the interior for quite some time.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Garden Retreat
As noted in the last post, there was a fairly impressive herb and vegetable garden at Jimbour, which visitors were encouraged to wander through.
Just flicking through the photos I took, I can see that I don't really have one that takes it in as a whole. This is probably the best I can do, looking back towards the big house:
In spite of the overcast skies, it's obviously still pretty dry in the area. Perhaps the best marker of that is the fairly slim looking bottle tree at the centre of the garden. Here's a closer look:
They tend to get fatter when there's more water to hold in their trunks. Although, maybe it's just a younger tree, since this one, below, which was along the path to the big house, seems to be holding it's shape quite comfortably.
But back to the centre-piece of the enclosed garden. I couldn't resist taking these $5 poster shots of the pumpkins that formed the boundary of the centre-piece.
Brace yourself for even more pumpkins a bit further on. Pumpkin soup was a key feature of the kitchen menu, so it was rather nice to see they were using the local produce.
I think I would characterise these next couple of shots as a bit Sidney Nolan in the sense of looking for figures to put in the landscape. (Did you groan out loud at that? I'm still a bit flushed from going to see Sidney Nolan: A New Retrospective at the Art Gallery yesterday. I hope you'll forgive such a clunky attempt to work that in. More on Sidney Nolan another day. Back to Jimbour).
It seems the garden wasn't so much of a retreat from death in a bygone era as I had anticipated. Still, these photos give you some more sense of the scale of the garden. Beyond the garden there were various stables and old buildings, as well as an aeroplane hanger, because there's a landing strip at Jimbour too.
Perhaps I didn't need to locate figures in the landscape as much as I thought. I think the sight of these vegetable growing is intrinsically of interest:
Don't these vegetables just make your heart glad?
I confess to experiencing beetroot envy when I saw these:
I think this post might be getting a bit long, especially with all the photos. It looks like the tour of the out buildings and even more pumpkins will have to comprise another post. Meanwhile, let me leave all the poultry lovers out there with this lovely vision, tucked away on the outskirts of the garden, which clearly they're not allowed to maraud:
Next: An Australian Hallowe'en
Just flicking through the photos I took, I can see that I don't really have one that takes it in as a whole. This is probably the best I can do, looking back towards the big house:
In spite of the overcast skies, it's obviously still pretty dry in the area. Perhaps the best marker of that is the fairly slim looking bottle tree at the centre of the garden. Here's a closer look:
They tend to get fatter when there's more water to hold in their trunks. Although, maybe it's just a younger tree, since this one, below, which was along the path to the big house, seems to be holding it's shape quite comfortably.
But back to the centre-piece of the enclosed garden. I couldn't resist taking these $5 poster shots of the pumpkins that formed the boundary of the centre-piece.
Brace yourself for even more pumpkins a bit further on. Pumpkin soup was a key feature of the kitchen menu, so it was rather nice to see they were using the local produce.
I think I would characterise these next couple of shots as a bit Sidney Nolan in the sense of looking for figures to put in the landscape. (Did you groan out loud at that? I'm still a bit flushed from going to see Sidney Nolan: A New Retrospective at the Art Gallery yesterday. I hope you'll forgive such a clunky attempt to work that in. More on Sidney Nolan another day. Back to Jimbour).
It seems the garden wasn't so much of a retreat from death in a bygone era as I had anticipated. Still, these photos give you some more sense of the scale of the garden. Beyond the garden there were various stables and old buildings, as well as an aeroplane hanger, because there's a landing strip at Jimbour too.
Perhaps I didn't need to locate figures in the landscape as much as I thought. I think the sight of these vegetable growing is intrinsically of interest:
Don't these vegetables just make your heart glad?
I confess to experiencing beetroot envy when I saw these:
I think this post might be getting a bit long, especially with all the photos. It looks like the tour of the out buildings and even more pumpkins will have to comprise another post. Meanwhile, let me leave all the poultry lovers out there with this lovely vision, tucked away on the outskirts of the garden, which clearly they're not allowed to maraud:
Next: An Australian Hallowe'en
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Haunted Housekeeping
It's been three months since I promised to post photos about the trip back from the Bunya Mountains. The moment may well have passed, and it isn't as if those posts I've linked to elicited any kind of discernible reaction, but since it was such a lovely trip back, via the Jimbour Estate Winery, and I'm not one to waste a mobile phone photo, well I've decided to make a record of it here for myself. (Sometimes I wonder what will happen if Blogger ever goes belly up; they will take these years of my life with them).
Upon arriving at the Jimbour Estate, this is the first building we encountered. I think it's a converted mill tower, but I can't really remember. Anyway, this is where we tasted some wines, and where the kitchen was, from which we ordered lunch.
As we walked down a tree-lined path towards the main house there was this church. I did take some photos inside but it was fairly non-descript in a strictly Protestant way.
This sign pays homage to Ludwig Leichhardt for whom Jimbour Station served as the last outpost of civilisation before he went off on one of his explorations. I thought of Voss when I saw this sign, but I'm not sure if it was actually the point of Leichhardt's last hurrah.
Here is the Jimbour Station house. I have to credit one of my friends for making me think of The White Earth, which we read at bookclub. After the thoughts about Voss, the thoughts about decrepit, crumbling station house of The White Earth, which was set in this area, just made everything seem creepier, or rather just unbearably sad and haunted.
Next to come into view was this magnificent pool. Another of my travelling companions informed me that this was the pool from the mini-series, Return to Eden, starring Wendy Hughes and James Reyne. I remember watching it as an early teenager, so that just added crocodile attacks to the haunted atmosphere.
And as if that wasn't enough to make us all jumpy, then the information that back in the station's heyday they used the bottle trees for target practise ensured a quick retreat to the expansive vegetable garden nearby.
Next: Garden Retreat.
Upon arriving at the Jimbour Estate, this is the first building we encountered. I think it's a converted mill tower, but I can't really remember. Anyway, this is where we tasted some wines, and where the kitchen was, from which we ordered lunch.
As we walked down a tree-lined path towards the main house there was this church. I did take some photos inside but it was fairly non-descript in a strictly Protestant way.
This sign pays homage to Ludwig Leichhardt for whom Jimbour Station served as the last outpost of civilisation before he went off on one of his explorations. I thought of Voss when I saw this sign, but I'm not sure if it was actually the point of Leichhardt's last hurrah.
Here is the Jimbour Station house. I have to credit one of my friends for making me think of The White Earth, which we read at bookclub. After the thoughts about Voss, the thoughts about decrepit, crumbling station house of The White Earth, which was set in this area, just made everything seem creepier, or rather just unbearably sad and haunted.
Next to come into view was this magnificent pool. Another of my travelling companions informed me that this was the pool from the mini-series, Return to Eden, starring Wendy Hughes and James Reyne. I remember watching it as an early teenager, so that just added crocodile attacks to the haunted atmosphere.
And as if that wasn't enough to make us all jumpy, then the information that back in the station's heyday they used the bottle trees for target practise ensured a quick retreat to the expansive vegetable garden nearby.
Next: Garden Retreat.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Gelexy ooff Impteeness. Bork!
There I was, using my time constructively, following assorted links about my friends activities on my Facbook feed, when I was led to this site: The Dialectizer.
The Dialectizer will translate any words, even entire web pages, into a range of English dialects attributed to various down-trodden, maligned, and animated characters.
I've run the blurb of this blog, the Dostoevsky quote above, through the Dialectizer. If you're reading on a feedreader, it reads thus: '...what can one do, if the only straightforward task of every intelligent man is pointless chattering, the deliberate pouring out of emptiness'.
For your edification, and because the pouring out of emptiness should be available to all classes, puppets, and ten year olds:
Red Neck: whut kin one does, eff'n th' only straightfo'ward tax of ev'ry intellyjunt man is pointless chatterin', th' deliberate pourin' outta emppiness.
Jive: whut kin one do, if de only straightfo'ward tax' uh every intelligent joker is pointless chatterin', de deliberate pourin' out uh emptiness.
Cockney: wot can one do, if the only straightforward task of evry intelligent man is pointless chatterin', the deliberate pourin' out of emptiness.
Elmer Fudd: what can one do, if the onwy stwaightfowwawd task of evewy intewwigent man is pointwess chattewing, the dewibewate pouwing out of emptiness.
Swedish Chep (Bork): vhet cun oone-a du, iff zee oonly streeeghtffurverd tesk ooff ifery intelleegent mun is pueentless chettereeng, zee deleeberete-a puooreeng oooot ooff impteeness.
Moron: what can one do, if de on straitef'erd task of ebehy intelligent man is poitless chattehigg, the, uhhh, delibehate pourigg out of emptiness.
Pig Latin: atwhay ancay oneyay oday, ifyay ethay onlyyay aightforwardstray asktay ofyay everyyay intelligentyay anmay isyay ointlesspay atteringchay, ethay eliberateday ouringpay outyay ofyay emptinessyay.
Hacker: WEHAT CAN ONE D,O FI TEEH ONLY STRAIGHTFORWARD TASK OF EVERY 1NTELLIGENTM AN SI POINT;ESS CHATTERINNG, TEH DEILBAR8 POURING OUT OIF EMPTINESS
The Dialectizer will translate any words, even entire web pages, into a range of English dialects attributed to various down-trodden, maligned, and animated characters.
I've run the blurb of this blog, the Dostoevsky quote above, through the Dialectizer. If you're reading on a feedreader, it reads thus: '...what can one do, if the only straightforward task of every intelligent man is pointless chattering, the deliberate pouring out of emptiness'.
For your edification, and because the pouring out of emptiness should be available to all classes, puppets, and ten year olds:
Red Neck: whut kin one does, eff'n th' only straightfo'ward tax of ev'ry intellyjunt man is pointless chatterin', th' deliberate pourin' outta emppiness.
Jive: whut kin one do, if de only straightfo'ward tax' uh every intelligent joker is pointless chatterin', de deliberate pourin' out uh emptiness.
Cockney: wot can one do, if the only straightforward task of evry intelligent man is pointless chatterin', the deliberate pourin' out of emptiness.
Elmer Fudd: what can one do, if the onwy stwaightfowwawd task of evewy intewwigent man is pointwess chattewing, the dewibewate pouwing out of emptiness.
Swedish Chep (Bork): vhet cun oone-a du, iff zee oonly streeeghtffurverd tesk ooff ifery intelleegent mun is pueentless chettereeng, zee deleeberete-a puooreeng oooot ooff impteeness.
Moron: what can one do, if de on straitef'erd task of ebehy intelligent man is poitless chattehigg, the, uhhh, delibehate pourigg out of emptiness.
Pig Latin: atwhay ancay oneyay oday, ifyay ethay onlyyay aightforwardstray asktay ofyay everyyay intelligentyay anmay isyay ointlesspay atteringchay, ethay eliberateday ouringpay outyay ofyay emptinessyay.
Hacker: WEHAT CAN ONE D,O FI TEEH ONLY STRAIGHTFORWARD TASK OF EVERY 1NTELLIGENTM AN SI POINT;ESS CHATTERINNG, TEH DEILBAR8 POURING OUT OIF EMPTINESS
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