About us

We are a hard working, family of eight. Swimming in the sea when we aren't busy on our small holding. Daddy dragon has to work away a lot, so this blog is to let him keep up with our adventures at home.

Friday, 29 June 2012

Baby in the mirror

'I can't believe you didn't tell me about that baby!'


'isn't he adorable!'

Thursday, 28 June 2012

Gone caving...

If you came down the main road, you would never know, this beach existed.

If you do not go up a very steep cow track, and climb under the electric fence, you wouldn't see this.

If you did not slide on your bottom, down the grass, you would not see this.

Or this.

Or this.

Lots of caves, big and small,

just waiting to be explored.

Next time, I'll bring an extra set of camera batteries. So, I can take a photo of the hidden beach inside the cave, and show you the girls, trying to wedge themselves between rocks.

Only at low tide of course, and with cation. 

The tides change quite swiftly.

Wednesday, 27 June 2012

On our walk today

We went for a walk today, and climbed up and down the sand dunes.

Along the way, we passed fields of rabbits. One end of the island is really populated with them.

So, with PicMonkey I made a little spot the rabbit. 

We counted 142 rabbits on our walk.

Lots of rabbits. 

Make rabbit stew.

Or so I am told, by the man with three air guns and four ferrets.

Today, I am glad, I have enchiladas ready for dinner, and I don't have to cook stinky rabbits, tasty as they might be. (If you have ever cooked fresh rabbit, then you know what I mean.)

My morning rush hour....

Tuesday, 26 June 2012

Just like daddy

A little boy asked for a photo of him with daddy.

This is the last one I took when you were here in April.

Next time, let's get the kid a face shot, eh?

 He is now wandering around the house in a winter hat saying, 'Look, I am daddy!'

So, I take him to the mirror, again.

And paint for him, the face of daddy, in his;

your forehead, 

above eyes, shaped just like yours, but coloured just like mine,

and your chin.

I show him how his big puppy paws, are not shaped like mine.

His soft pudgy boy fingers that square off at the ends, with nails that tear away like paper..

just like daddy's.

He looks closely, presses his nose right up to the glass,

and says, 'I am awfully handsome today.'

Yep, just like daddy.

Monday, 25 June 2012

A slow day

When I woke up this morning, and peered out the window, it was clear the delinquent ducks were out again. 

As if it was not crystal clear to me, a lady came and knocked on my door. 'Your ducks are out by the road.' She told me sternly. 'That is dangerous, you ought to take better care!' 

Yeah, like I hatched them and tossed them out to live in a ditch. Spoiled little puddle jumpers. 

No more nice mama! I put these little escape artists behind bars.

They stand and quack indignantly, as I thwart their attempts to eat my strawberries, and defile my welcome mat. Well, welcome mat number two, I threw out the first one, it was just too gross, and had no more welcome left. 

Off they have gone into the field, certain they will find a new way out. A new way back to the tarmac, and the front garden of strawberry bounty.

Today, is a soup sort of day. Sort of wet, grey, and slow.

The air smells fresh and clean.

Everybody seems to be taking their time, which makes it a perfect day to go into town.

 That is town for us, a little village on a big pier.

There is a shop which sells old fish, sugar, and canned goods made by kraft back in the 80's. Seriously. It is like an aladdin's cave into my childhood. Shelves and shelves of stuff that was sold in Canada at Safeway when I was like 6. Somehow, it floated across the Atlantic and ended up in the converted cottage, that now serves as a shop, since the old one burnt down, long before we came here. 
Things like hubba bubba (remember that stuff in like 7Up flavour, bleurg!) and fruit roll ups. They have mac and cheese, jello, and tang.

A friend from up the island brought many a flower for us to plant. So with what blessing thy free bounty gives, we shall not cast away. 
I must go out and find a nice bit of earth for these seedling to grow up in.

Sunday, 24 June 2012

Sometimes, I write bad poetry.

Now I sit down to my wine,
I pray my sanity will realign.
For if some calm I do not find,
I rather fear for my peace of mind.

I pray I am given adequate time,
To overhaul the daily crime.
May I now rest and not arbitrate,
About the little teaser's fate.

Or why I decline to prepare new
another menu option or two
I pray for time to have a shower,
without a trio standing to glower.

To curl up in my soft, warm bed,
(A head count reveals one has fled!)
A moment or two just for me,
(For heaven's sake get out of that tree!)

And that I need not wipe the floor
more spilt milk, we'll need an oar.
Yes, now I sit down to my wine,
I pray my sanity will realign.
Upon reflection I do know,
I've not seen it since long ago.

Friday, 22 June 2012

Words to live by?

After wrestling a goat stuck horns first through the plastic rubbish bin,

and being bucked through the air by a dog not willing to try out this new training head collar, that I thought would be such a great idea,

and then being tossed down a steep rocky embankment into the cold atlantic by a 50 mph wind while trying to catch a runaway hatchling colouring sheet...

'Woo Hoo!'

Delinquent Ducks

These are the ducks who broke through the pen wall.

Who, zigged and zoomed through the blustery wind.

These are the squatters who took up residence in the garage.

Happy with their fortune, that the door had been blown clean off its hinges.

These are the insatiable devouring fiends, who ate through 25kg of feed.

Beach whale moans, they made, as I went out to feed them this morning.

These little blighters had nursed quite a stomach ache.

Now, I am left with the mess... oh the mess... and that spare bed we put in the shed... let's just say nobody will ever want to stay the night on that mattress again.

Thursday, 21 June 2012

Que sera sera

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, what will I be
Will I be pretty, will I be rich
Here's what she said to me.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.
[ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsmode.com/l

yrics/d/doay/que.html ]
When I was young, I fell in love
I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead
Will we have rainbows, day after day
Here's what my sweetheart said.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

Now I have children of my own
They ask their mother, what will I be
Will I be handsome, will I be rich
I tell them tenderly.

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

When your mother will not take you to the beach, walk in a puddle, and pretend it is the sea.

Que sera sera.

That is okay, for today, is but one day in a life time.

Wednesday, 20 June 2012


Is the smile that is fixed on the resiliently blithe beak of a duck.

Mischievous, is the little boy who pillages daddy's tool box.

(I am not going to admit how many random nuts and bolts he's brought me,... from where I don't have a clue.)

Indignant, is the little girl who did not believe a mama might splash her back after she dumps a bucket of water down my back.

Somedays, a hatchling seems to grow up just a little quicker. Proud, is this little girl, who did the front crawl for about ten metres straight this morning. 

Hard working, is he, the goat I hoped would eat down the front lawn... but has instead munched through a large flower bush. 

Thankful, am I, for all of them and more. Much more.

Lazy daisy day

We were told a lot of worries we should have, when we moved up here. One of the big ones was it is sooooooo cold.

The next was that nothing can bloom. There will be no flowers, the wind destroys them all... poof... gone.

It has been ummm, remarkably warm, and there is a whole lot of colour going on around here. 

The days are long lazy summer days, the sort of days where hatchlings lie in the grass and ask questions like 'How many petals are there on a daisy mama?'

'40... 34... 45... 42... and 39 on this one.'

Apparently, daisies do not do uniformity. 

Walking sideways

It has been one of those weeks where for whatever reason, I just feel like I'm walking sideways.

Too many hour long phone calls with government offices, and animal health statistics analysis types.

I paid my annual tax bill in a single lump sum. Then they returned it, so I paid it again, then they returned it. They want it monthly now,...  I paid the first instalment, and now they want late charges???

Wah! My head is not designed for paper work, and such. I just want to auto debit it and not think about it again. Or better still pay it off and not think about it until next April. 

Anyways, the days have been flipped around and back to front. Like small children with their shirts inside out and backwards. It rains all day, and is sunny all night. 

Very confusing, especially for small people.

At 3am, yes, 3 am... we went out to play. (I wasn't allowed to sleep anyways, and hey, here's hoping winter brings hibernation right? Or maybe the rain will lull them into a nap, this afternoon.)

If you can't

beat them,

join them, right?

I think he is finally ready for bed!