The meaning of a four letter word

The conversations out here start differently. Variations on "Ja-ged-any-rain"?"and "How-much-ranger-get?" take the place of the pedestrian, "how ya going?" or for a new acquaintance, "what do you do?"

When I answer the phone in my parents home, I am obliged first to answer these questions before any further business can be transacted. I don't always know the significance of the numbers, but I can look out the window and see the green carpet.

I noticed in town, the amount of rainfall is the single topic discussed. Jungian collective consciousness puts a spring in the step of those lucky to be the recipients of rain, while others' shoulders droop, betraying the fact that they are still waiting.

The air outside is steamy and the plains are hazy, heavy with moisture. The luxury can not be described. I walk out in the garden, working hard to make my way across the verdant lawn, watching for snakes - it's only a couple of days since one met Dad on the lawnmower. Roses show off in various garden beds and the crickets and frogs sing their noisy, cheerful chorus at any time of day. I look up at the trees where the koalas usually live, but none are about. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a brown creature with tall ears sitting very still. First I think it's a hare, but then it seems too big and I think it could be a small brown wallaby. I look again and realise it's a hare, gorging on the heavenly green. Its only moving parts are the jaws. It looks at me. I stay still and it continues the feast. Alfie, the Jack Russell, shows his age by showing no interest in a chase. Around another corner, brilliant red, green and blue parrots take flight as Alfie approaches.

A magpie gargles, singing the song that I love. It's the sound of morning in the Australian bush.

Mr Lincoln roses from the garden, fresh today.
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Manchurian Pears
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Beyond the fence post
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Study in contrasts. I never tire of this majestic tree.
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My favourite dead tree finally keeled over. I will miss it's Tim Burtonesque addition
to the landscape. It still makes an interesting study.
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The sights, sounds and smells of a cattle sale

On approach to the Tamworth Regional Livestock Exchange, two things struck me: the noise and the smell. Perhaps the volume is similar to the other kind of stock exchange but the sounds and the smells are probably quite different. Here the smell is the earthy smell of animal sweat, manure and dirt.

Anyone got a spare hat?
Copyright 2014 divacultura

Going to a cattle sale was a new experience and I was pleased to have the opportunity. It immediately proved a good decision that I had swapped my new silver casual shoes for a pair of my brother's boots. They were a size too big but I would have been even more obviously alien in the crowd in my ridiculously urban shoes. With my hair in a pony tail, a cap on my head and clad in a pair of jeans, I was receiving some enquiring looks. I certainly looked nothing like the rest of the people there. For one, they were male. I'm not. I was wearing the wrong kind of hat. My eyes didn't have the right appraising glint as I surveyed the pens of cattle.

I was careful not to fall into a pen; it was a special female sale today and I didn't want to find out how much I would fetch.

Auctioneers busy at their work.
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The cattle are contained in rows and rows of pens with concreted alley ways in between for the buyers, sellers, agents and other people. Tags of various colours tell the story of how old they are or whether the cows might be in calf. The auctioneers walk on a gangway elevated above the pens. They stop at each pen and say a bit about the animals in the pen that's about to be sold. The auctioneer is flanked by several men in big hats who identify the bidders in the crowd. A woman is nearby carrying a big stick that she holds over the pen being auctioned. I learned that this is a scanner which takes the details of the national livestock identification tags in the ears of the cattle. This enables each animal to be traced from its birth and is important for ensuring the safety of meat.

There are several auctioneers. They wear the uniform of jeans, pale blue collared shirt and very big, light coloured hat. They are amplified by a Madonna-style microphone and portable speaker which they either wear on their belt or is carried by another person. Some of them aren't amplified at all. They talk quickly as they explain what's for sale and then they accelerate as they search for the first bid. Their diaphragms work hard to ensure they have enough breath. Eyes are watchful, ears pricked and somehow, above all the noise of the people and the livestock, purchase after purchase is made and the crowd moves to the next pen. It's exciting to see all these people at their work.

Just looking at the crowd, it's hard to see who might be a buyer looking for the lowest price they can get and who might be a seller hoping their animals will sell for enough to make some money, or at least, not make a loss. I think I see a glimpse of disappointment in the eyes of one rural man.

As I'm standing with my brother, asking all my questions so I can understand what's happening, a woman comes over and asks if she can take our photograph. She's doing publicity for the sales and we will feature in the sale highlights. I didn't expect to make the social pages of the local cattle sale, but there's a first time for everything. My brother is pleased because it will further raise his profile as a local veterinarian.

As we leave, the noise and smells recede. I look at my dusty feet, pleased that I'm not in my silver shoes. We go to the Sushi Train for lunch and I feel as if I've returned to more familiar territory. As I eat some beef, I wonder where it came from.

Here's what it sounds like:

Awaiting their fate
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Through the rails
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More hat than kid.
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Lighting the fuse with Keith Urban.

On Thursday night I went with a friend to see Keith Urban at Rod Laver Arena. I'd never been to one of his shows before, but had heard good things. He had played the night before - his wedding anniversary - and was off to Narrabri in north-western New South Wales as part of his Light the Fuse tour.

We'd both had a long and busy day and had to prioritise dinner over the support act, Sheppard. We waited at the tram stop for about ten minutes and then were told, once we'd boarded our tram that we weren't going anywhere because they were waiting for the police to come and remove a drunken passenger from the tram in front. As we walked to the cab rank we passed a group of four Protective Services Officers standing out the front of Flinders Street Station. They are supposed to be the transit police, but they were no help at that moment. Two other pairs of women got off the same tram and I asked if they were also going to Keith Urban. They were, so four of us shared a $10 cab ride.

Our seats were fantastic. We were right up the front and it was such a pleasure to be at a big arena show and not have to rely on the screens to see the show.

Close enough to the see the man
© 2014 divacultura

The crowd was eclectic and the lack of cowboy hats and boots reflected that we were actually at a rock concert, rather than a country one, or even country rock. That was okay with me - I like to see talented musicians play anything (except any variety of Metal, as I've discussed before).

Keith Urban
© 2014 divacultura

The music was great. The band was on fire. There were banjos and mandolins, but this was still a rock concert. Keith stopped for a chat early on and read the many signs held up by fans. He made it clear that we wouldn't be needing security tonight and gained the crowd's agreement to be well behaved. A girl holding a sign that said "Dad said he'd give me $100 if I get a selfie with you" was brought up on stage to get the photo. Keith was hilarious. The holder of another sign that read, "Kiss me. I'm getting hitched!" was also brought on stage. She was wearing her souvenir Keith Urban hoodie and was quick to answer when Keith asked who's playing at the wedding: "You are." he asked for the date and then told the band to mark the date in their diaries.

Guitar great
© 2014 divacultura

Further into the show, he walked through the crowd up to another microphone that had been set up half way up one of the wings of the arena. He played and sang from there. The crowd was going wild - except for the sour looking woman standing next to his left leg. She was so absorbed in her mobile phone and trying to work out how to take a photo - and pushing her husband out of the way - that she didn't see a thing. And her face was something to behold.  I took some photos on my iphone, but really noticed a lot of people seemed to be only watching the show through the screen they held in their hands. What's the point of that?

At the end of the song, Keith signed the guitar he was playing and handed it to a boy who was wearing a Keith Urban t-shirt. The boy looked to be about eleven years old and he was beside himself with happiness and shock. It was quite moving.

The encore showcased some of the best music of the night and the band threw picks and drum sticks to the crowd. Keith's wristbands were also flung, one landing somewhere near us. People scrambled under chairs in the dark to find it.

After all the music had been played, the band took a bow and Keith stepped forward to thank us for coming. He acknowledged that it costs a lot of money to come to shows like these and he said he knew that most people wouldn't be able to go to every show they wanted to. That meant that we'd made choices and he really appreciated us choosing to come to his show. "Thank you."

Keith Urban is an incredible guitarist, pretty good song writer, vibrant performer and it would seem, humble and real. It brings something extra to the show.

In ballad mode
© 2014 divacultura

Clever marketing - another hat tale

I mentioned yesterday that I decided to succumb to the lure of the wildwest and buy a cowgirl hat when I was recently at the Tamworth Country Music Festival. It is irresistible, but also practical when you're walking down Peel Street in the blazing sun listening to buskers or acts performing on one of the many stages.

On the Friday before the Australia Day long weekend I met a friend for lunch in town and noticed a growing crowd and queue right near the post office.  I thought that there must have been someone very important and/or famous doing something remarkable, so walked around the corner to see why people were lining up. There was no country music star or even minor local politician or newsreader. People were queuing to get a hat!

The hat was nothing special, but had the right shape and the wide brim. Importantly it also carried the sponsor's logo on the hat band and could be had for a $2 donation to the McGrath Foundation. It struck me as a creative approach to marketing and fundraising all by giving the people what they want/need. Walking around the streets were heads promoting sponsor Toyota, people were protected from the sun and a charity had made some money and planted their name in the minds of people. Additionally, the hats were only available at certain times, so the notion of scarcity was created and the crowd and queues grew, drawing further attention to the various organisations. Brilliant!

Having made my discovery, I stepped back from the line. I was promptly asked by a couple passing by "who is there?"

I explained the people were queuing for a hat.

"A hat?!"

"Yes a hat," I explained the relationship to the McGrath Foundation.

"That's incredible!" exclaimed the man. "I never thought I'd see a queue like that for a hat! Must be a good sort of a hat!"

"Well see for yourself. There goes one now," I pointed.


And lastly, here are some more of my recent photographs taken while on holiday.

The ever-present Alfie - just hanging around.
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A magnificent pair of eucalypts stand against the brilliant cerulean sky.
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Afternoon by the dry creek bed.
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City return - time for the photos.

I love Melbourne, but having over a month away has been a tonic. It's as if the dust that had settled on everything has been blown away and there's a new light on everything. I'm feeling reinvigorated and ambitious for the year ahead.

Cowgirl
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My time away was spent outside Toowoomba in Queensland, in country NSW, Tamworth and Lennox Head. Some of the time was spent hanging out with various family members, some of it was spent at Summersong music camp and some of it overlapped with the Tamworth Country Music Festival. When I've attended a gig there before I couldn't see for the hats, so this year I wore one too!


On my flight home yesterday, I was reading a physical book called Difficult Men. It's about television covering both the characters (Tony Soprano) and the creators (David Chase). It is absorbing reading and I barely noticed anyone else around me. After we'd landed and everyone was standing quietly in the aisle waiting to deplane, the bloke who had been sitting next to me said in a booming voice: "That book you're reading...Do you have one? Do you want one? Did you get rid of one?"

I laughed and responded: "Well, this morning I finished a book about psychopaths*, so draw your own conclusions!"

That hit the mark. I'd never thought about the potential for stand-up comedy in this context. I'd also forgotten about the privacy afforded by reading e-books.

While away, I took some photos that I really like and will share them from time to time. Hope you like them.

© divacultura 2014

This little wallaby is a regular visitor.
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In the shadow of the windmill.
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* The Psychopath Test by Jon Ronson - another absorbing read.