The Trout......

When I was in fouth grade our teacher Sister Fabian taught us a German Folk song called The Trout. It was just a simple song and I have come across it several times since then. The Trout was written by Franz Schubert in approx. 1750. When we went to high school I remember one of my music teachers instructing us the very same German folk song in German. It is amazing that I remember the first verse word perfect (in Germen) lol and again today I came across it in some text. When I calculated the time period it is 43 years since learning this in German and I can still remember it, eyt I cannot remember what I did yesterday lol lol.

In einem Bächlein helle,
Da schoß in froher Eil
Die [launige]1 Forelle
Vorüber wie ein Pfeil.
Ich stand an dem Gestade
Und sah in süßer Ruh
Des muntern [Fisches]2 Bade
Im klaren Bächlein zu.

Ein Fischer mit der Rute
Wohl an dem Ufer stand,
Und sah's mit kaltem Blute,
Wie sich das Fischlein wand.
So lang dem Wasser Helle,
So dacht ich, nicht gebricht,
So fängt er die Forelle
Mit seiner Angel nicht.

The bottom photo is of the four of us children, I was in fourth grade at the time

Your grandmother Mary George was born to the Budwee family. Your great grandparents Anthony and Sadie Budwee migrated from Kfarsghab Lebanon before Mary and her twin brother Armen were born. Kfarsghab is known as the twin town because its people traditionally lived in one town during the winter and another town during the summer. The summer village is called Kfarsghab, which means fortified village and the winter village is called Morh Kfarsghab which means the winter resting place of cattle which belong to the village of Kfarsghab. Both villages are in the Caza (district) of Zgharta, which is in the Valley of Qadisha, this is considered a holy and spiritual place in Christian history. Simply put, Kfarsghab is located in the North Lebanon region.
Kfarsghab, the summer village, is located high up in the mountains on the road going from Ehden to Bsharri in the northern part of the Qadisha valley. Kfarsghab is mentioned in documents as old as 1283 AD so you can appreciate the thousands of years of tradition and history the family must have practiced. Kfarsghab is a Mediterranean mountain village with heavy winter snows and mild dry summers. However, Kfarsghab is located in an area with rivers around it so the people were assured of clean stream water all through the summer. Often during the winter there were very violent snow storms and landslides so it seemed safer to move down to the winter village. The terrain of Kfarsghab is very rugged hilly land.
Morh Kfarsghab, the winter village, is located down on the north-western slope of the Joueit valley separating Miziara from Bnachii. A written document mentioning Morh is dated to October / November 1748 AD (Thu'l-Qa'dah 1161 Hijri). Morh Kfarsghab is a Mediterranean “plains” village with heavy rains, mild winters and hot dry arid summers. So you can understand why the families moved back to Kfarsghab during the summer, when they knew in advance how harsh and unforgiving the summer sun and dry conditions would be. In fact, Morh Kfarsghab experienced torrential floods; sand and dust storms in April / May, which was the summer months. The terrain of Morh Kfarsghab is rugged hilly land overlooking the Joueit Valley.
The semitic name of Kfarsghab is composed of two parts : KFAR-SGHAB

Kfarsghab is surrounded by two rivers and crossed by a third one. Al Msil is the torrent which separates Kfarsghab from Bane, a neighbouring town. It was a tiwn where Valleys and rivers, springs and forests, peaks and mountains stamp the life of the people. Generations of hunters and farmers, shepherds and hermits have lived there.
In 1998, the officially registered population of Kfarsghab was of 3,772 persons, making it the fourth populated area of the district of Zawiyeh. It is estimated that 25% of the registered persons (ca. 900 persons) live actually in the village. Emigration took its toll of Kfarsghab population - but also blessed it economically - since the mid 19th century. It is estimated that 20,000 persons around the world - mainly in USA and in Australia - are related by origin to Kfarsghab. In fact, 95% of the family live outside of Kfarsghab now.
The religion practiced by the ancesters was Maronite (Roman Catholic rite) 100% of the town were Maronite. After migrating to Australia a Maronite church was built at Marrickville and later at Harris Park.

The ancestors made their living from growing olive trees hence olive oil, apples, pears, grapes and cherries. They herd cattle and sheep for food and milk and exchanged their wares with other villages. in the 20th century they exported their produce and meat to countries such as Irak, Egypt and Saudi Arabia. Many of the town's people that did not participate in farming or herding were raised in families where age old skills were passed down the generations. Your great grandfather for example, was a stone mason. He could carve headstones, create decorative finials for buildings and ornamental fountains.

Rich Beyond Measure.........

I read that the New Zealand government would like to move the city of Christchurch; makes sense considering how many earthquakes have damaged the city and how many residents have either been killed or injured over the past year. In Alaska there was a devistating earthquake only a few days ago which left death and significant destruction behind it. Additionally, 5 million people in a township on the coastline of China were washed away when floods hit the town one week ago today. Indeed, another tsunami warning has sent Japan into a tail spin at a time when they are still trying to recover from the last one.

I sit and look and wonder what messages Mother Nature is trying to send us.

When I think about this I think of all the damage that has been done to the planet but we can recover from that. Perhaps we need to rethink our values or learn that peace of mind and peace in our hearts should be the most cherished possession that we can have. The material objects can not go with us, the obsession many have to buy more and more, to own better and better, to be as good as the next person, is such a waste. The memories one can leave behind for our children and their children are priceless. The laughter, the experiences together, the love shown to each other is all immeasurable. The most precious thing that J and I have are our children, attached to us by threads of love stitched in place over a lifetime. If the world ended tomorrow I would die rich beyond measure.

This beautiful wedge-tail eagle was down at Tianjarra Falls at Moreton National Park when we went hiking one weekend. The birdlife there is amazing, especially the raptors. The falls are on the back road to the coast via Nerriga. It is a very beautiful part of the world.

Grauation Day Part 2

Today was Graduation Day for the NEOCS. By this time of the evening they will be partying and celebrating. There were over two thousand guests at the passing out parade at HMAS Cresswell made up of family, friends, school mates and instructors. J and I stood at the side of the canteen watching as they accompanied their guests back to the car park, both struck by how mature and grown up they all appeared in their new junior officewr uniforms. We both turned to each other at the same time harbouring the same thought of how proud their families must be of them. I know that we certainly felt proud of them, we have come to know them so well over this past six months that it is hard to believe the officious young men and women who stood so tall and serious today were the very same. One young man who came in for breaky today walked his mother and grandmother to their car and I stood amazed at the difference in him. His mum gave him a huge hug and his grandmother wiped the tears from her eyes. I guess that said it all. Day after tomorrow he will report for duty to Watsons Bay where he will live on base; his best friend will report for duty to HMAS Albotros at Nowra in tow weeks. Out thoughts and best wishes go with all of the new young officers. I hope they have a wonerful life, a rewarding career and may they never see war.

The End of the World........

www.youtube.com/watch?v=84Ud3V9NPw8

The End of the World, trivialising neuclear missiles, blaspheming kangaroos and loving world power.........made me laugh

Graduation Day.....

On Thursday the NEOCS (New Entry Officer Cadets) will graduate after having finished their six months training here at HMAS Creswell. J and I have come to know some of them very well; you would be proud to call any of them son or daugher. They manners are impecible, their maturity over this past six months has developed enormously and their pride in their position and the Australian Navy is very obvious. I might say that when they first arrived they were like any other civilian and we have watched their personal growth during this six month course. One could sayy arrived looking for direction and will leave self-confident and empowered.

The course requires them to live full time here at HMAS Creswell as Creswell is a training college. During those first six weeks they have no free time whats so ever including weekends. The NEOC age diversity ranges from school leavers to mature aged men and women; some people decide to join the armed forces later in life after experiencing a career. Our friend Paul is a Lieutenant Commander who joined the Navy at age 39. Another friend was a solicitor who simply wanted to move in a new direction in life. One of our customers told me that she had been a nurse in civilian life and had reached a point of wanting a new challenge in life. She loved the sea and enjoyed physical activities and wanted to return to study. The Navy offered her the opportunity to do everything that she aspired to and paid her as well.

It has been fascinating to meet so many of the officers and the enlisted personnel here at Creswell. They come from all over Australia, some are married with families, some are single and others are widowed. But each and every one of them has their own story and is unique in a very special way. Those that are stationed here at Creswell are involved in the training of the NEOCS in one way or another. There are physical trainers, medical staff, leadership trainers, Communication specialist trainers, trainers in Equity and Diversity, Weapons Trainers, trainers in boatwork, Pistol handling, Combat Survival, First Aid, Survival at Sea, and even systems management. So you can see that the NEOCS are kept extremely busy whilst here. During our time here at HMAS Creswell J and I have seena lot of officers come and go. They appear to be reposted about every 18 months to 2 years.

Back to the NECOS.....I remember the first weekend that this current class of NEOCS was given leave. Friday afternoon arrived and they were excited to finally have a weekend off. Some were heading home (if they could communte over the weekend that is) and the rest were hitting the town and because the weather was much warmed back then they went surfing and fishing and made the most of their first leave. Monday morning came and it was interesting to hear the tales of that weeekend lol.

That first six months is really aimed at teaching the NEOCS to live within a community. When I though about this it would be strange to suddenly eat, work, study and socialize with strangers and expect the situation to be a harmonous one so teaching skills which reflect on living communially takes place without anyone thinking about it and before they know it they have made new friends (known as divisional mates) and are supporting each other. We were here for the last several graduations and it is two days of excited families, proud Mums and Dads and even prouder Naval Officers. These young people will graduate and be recognised as Royal Australian Naval Junior Officers and be stationed elsewhere immediately. They will all attend ADFA at some stage. (Australian Defence Force Academy) to undertake a degree. I had wondered what would happen in this case and was told that most people sign up to the Navy for six to nine years and however, after completing two years of their degree they have to serve in the Navy, known as Return fo Service Obligation. I imagine this ensures that the Navy get a return on their investment made in the individual's education as there are no HECS fees to the individual and all costs are paid for by the Navy. The remainder of the degree is finished part time. When I talked to the NEOCS about their plans they were so excited to have this plan available. Their intended degrees varied from engineering to business and their sense of adventure was very obvious. We wish them all well and hope that the leaders of tomorrow enjoy and learn at every step along the journey,

Good luck girls and guys!

Our time here at Jervis Bay is soon to come to an end, perhaps three weeks or so. I lay in bed last night listening to the sounds of the ocean's waves pounding down onto the beach reminding me that once I leave, those sounds and sights will be left behind. So although I am excited to move onto to the next phase in life I leave behind many many hours of beach walking and fishing and surfing and boating and seashell collecting and bird watching and the list goes on and on. I have my memories, my blogs and my photos to remind me of what once was. I also have another group of friends whom I will remember through out the rest of my life.

How lucky have we been to have had this experience down here. Sometimes I feel like a witness to something very special here on Jervis Bay; a mother whale nudging her calf to swim, some dolphins frolicking around the bottom of the boat as we left harbour, an Australian Parrot dancing along the banister of the front verandah trying to get our attention through the front window to come feed him, the whitest sands of Cresswell and the beautiful rocks of Orient Point, the giant stingrays swimming the waves behind me at Caves Beach, the black cockatoos that we hear before we see them...their sounds so individual and distinct, the magnivicent sunsets at Callala and the beautiful sunrises of Boodeerie.

One day J and I will return perhaps as Grey Nomads knowing that all of this will still be waiting for us.

Theses photos were taken at Taronga Zoo 2009

Pitta Pizza by the Roadside.......

Found a couple more camping recipes....
Pita Pizza
You will need pita bread, a selection of toppings (such as tomato paste, mozzarella, tomatoes, tuna, ham, tinned pineapple and so on) frying pan with a lid and a dash of water.
Spread the toppings over the pita bread and set to one side. Fire the stove up, add a teaspoon of water to the frying pan, pop the prepared pita into the frypan and put the lid on. The water stops the pita bread from going hard and the steam produced by the water keeps the toppings moist while they cook. Lift the lid off from time to time to see how they are going. Weremove the pizza when the toppings are nice and gooey. We cooked this several times before we got the timing/ water/equation spot on and even when the pizza was a bit floppy it was still delicious.

It is not always easy to stop at a club or restaurant for lunch when exploring the country side. A recent example was when J and I visited the Snowy Mts. last month. We were literally out in the "never-never" with nothing but a creek filled with melted snow beside us. At times like this we use our trusted billy-boiler which is very small and compact. Here are some recipes which J and I use when we cook on our billy-burner at rest stops when travelling those sorts of weekends....
Foil Hamburgers

We pre-cook hamburgers at home before we leave. Place one patty in a foil with onion and place on top of the cooker. Once hot add veges; we use tomato, mixed vegies such as brocolli, beans, carrots and capsicum. Then cook for a while longer until everything is really hot. When ready place in a warmed sour dough roll with lettuce, beetroot and sauce. Aioli garlic sauce or ranch dressing is a nice alternative to BBQ or tomato sauce. Very simple...enjoy!

We also have an old fashioned jaffle iron which turns out some great toasties such as ham, cheese, tomato and onion or bacon egg, spanish onion and capsicum or chicken, avacado and tomato.

Small foil meals are easy to cook with and we chop before we leave home and park them in the car fridge until meal time. I have learned to use very little olive oil and minimal foil so as the food doesn't burn. One of my favourites which I found on a camping site is skinless, boneless cubed chicken, 1 onion diced, 2 cloves garlic, some strips of red and green capsicum, some pre-cooked chat-potatoes and some lemon juice.

We simply place everything into a plastic bag with a small portion of virgin olive oil and shake it up. Place one third onto a piece of foil then top with another sheet of foil and roll up the edges tightly. Cook in the campfire or as we do...in a small pot on top of the cooker flame, until the chicken is opaque and steam has formed, approx. 15 minutes. J often adds bot gal (a chinese chicken stock), white wine or chilli. Additionally, don't forget to a nice bottle of wine to wash lunch down with and your billy for a nice hot cuppa afterwards.

Gone Fishing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Years ago I never understood the fascination that men have to master the sport of fishing, in fact I never understood why it was considered a sport. But spend a day fishing with me now and the addiction catches on.

Over the years J has taught me to fish, catch prawns, squid and bait and each and every time I go fishing these days I thank him for teaching me.

After having spent three years working down at Jervis Bay I thank him even more often now. The bay is surrounded by several national parks and as I have said so many times before...its waters are beautiful, usually turquoise blue but can quickly change with the weather. In fact, I have seen the bay change from brilliant blue to dark blue to drab grey in a matter of ten minutes when the clouds move in.

Likewise, the waters have an abundance of marine life, dolphins are about all year round and the whale population moves in from mid year to November to rest on their migration south. One can fish from just about anywhere in Jervis Bay.

I have cast my line in from many a location here. It is a practice that makes one relax instantly and forget the business of the day because you concentrate on that movement under you finger, the sign that indicates a fish is nudging your line, seeing if anything edible is going to move. I stand that and feel the tension leave my body and the enjoyment of free time take over. And just when you think about moving to a spot several meters up the beach ....it comes...the nudge....that feeling under your finger. Firstly there is a slight movement and I ever so gently move the line up and down so as the fish thinks it is another fish moving about. Then just as it swims in towards its goal I quickly lift the rod backwards and up. The fish is hooked and begins to fight. Now I tell you that when a fish is hooked it struggles to get free. Some fish make a run for it and leave your reel spinning madly, others swim around rocks and wharfs possibly hoping to tangle the line into freedom, those in the shallower waterways usually jump and create a comotion.

Some small fish fight like crazy till you imagine a whale must be on the end. One's imagination at what must be under the water can be amazing, often I think it is under the water along side of the fish. The fish tugs and tries to pull away frantically and all the while I stand imagining that it will be successful and escape lol. Then I begin to gently lift the rod backwards all the while winding it in. Then relaxing I learn forward and continue to wind in, relaxing backwards, forwards again, backwards winding in and so the exercise continues until the fish is close enough to be seen flopping about in the water. He makes one last ditch effort for freedom and then surrenders. I have found that smaller smoother strokes seems to work for me rather than large abrupt sweeps.

Thats fishing, thats the exercise for what is elusive yet attainable, reigniting the excitement of hope. So after years of fishing all over the country I have decided that HOPE coupled with skill is what men aspire to when challenged with fishing.

More often than not we throw our catch back into the water for another day, the larger ones we keep and J turns them into a delicious feast. I look forward to those evenings, fish in Thai red curry, BBQ fish with warm chilly and pasley sauce, steamed fish, rice and vegies. Not matter what, J makes a treat of our fishing efforts. Now thats a skill!

Ten Reasons to Love Winter.......

Why would anyone enjoy winter you ask?

There is a silence here in the winter that is not there in the summer. Callala is a tourist area and at most times of the year people come and go along the beach, they walk and talk, some play their music and others ride their bikes; no matter what...their presence is made known by sounds, which I do not mind. However, winter halts those sounds, the tourist seize to come and so I listen to the quiet, the voiceless peace, the contrast of the waves and birds; the silence of humans.

No. 1- I love to look out at the cold while rugged up under a blanket watching a favourate movie, this reduces the hustle, bustle and stress in life!

No. 2- I love winter foods ie. all the wonderful vegie dishes that J cooks for us. Summer is too hot to enjoy them but winter comes and we want to go back for seconds.

No 3- I love to rug up and head out doors to explore the national parks. One sees so much that isn't there in summer. This year we headed down to Mt. Kosiosko National Park to see the snow season begin and the landscape change. It was wonderful and we were warm.

No. 4- I love to snuggle up to J and keep warm in bed. The thought of the windy cold weather outside just makes me want to soak up his body heat and sink into a comfortable deep sleep. He loveingly gives me the warmth of his heart as we sleep in the cold air of the night.

No. 5- There is something wonderful about dressing up for the extreme winter and going outdoors to find that you are nice and warm. You have beat the challenge of cold temperatures and enjoyed the climate regardless of how chilly it was. No. 6- Winter is such a relief after the heat of summer. It is great to simply not perspire when you are working.

No.7- Someone once said to me that there is always a magic in the air that is simply not there in summer. How true this is.

No.8- Winter is a wonderful time to enjoy a hot chocolate thats thick and creamy and your tongue will catch the melting marshmellows as they shrink into the heat of the mug. No.9- I love winter each time that I stop to speak to someone whose scalf covers their face, a beany covers their hair and wooly gloves cover their fingers. A rosey nose and cheels are all that greets you. Welcome to winter!!

No.10- The air has a crispness to it that is fresh and clean. It fills your lungs with its cold blast and leaves your mouth like steam or smoke.

Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose. ~From the television show The Wonder Years

When I was a little girl we lived in Excelsior St. Guildford from when I was about age 6. It was a small housing commission house that had been painted green and had a wonderful garden at the front. My mother had lived there as a child until she married at age 21 and my grandmother (your great grandmother Mary Goldthorpe) lived at the very same address until 1966 when my parents moved back to live with her. As an adult I can look back through my memories and remember it as an ordinary sized house with three bedroom, a lounge room, a dining/TV room and a kitchenette. At the rear of the house there was a back porch with the combined bathroom and laundry and a separate toilet off it. The entry to the front of the home was by a front porch, which was a small covered entrance large enough for one to stand under out of the rain. I remember that in winter my grandmother use to sit on the front porch in the sunshine and tell us stories of her days living there. By the standards of that era our home was an average sized house with an average sized backyard in an average neighborhood.

There were three steps leading from the rear of the house to a small concreted area with a fernery off it. From there a long narrow path made its way down through the back yard to the garden sheds. The lawns were proudly kept by my father and were a great play area for children. All of this was over shadowed by a great gum tree that provided lovely shade in the summer and loads of leaves to be regularly raked up. As children we made great use of the grass area. We shot balls through a basketball hoop, played red rover and cricket. The basket ball hoop was attached to a swing set and many imaginary netball games were won in the yard. Likewise, the grass made for a great cricket pitch and stumps were set up on the old metal garbage can. When neighboring children joined in cricket games (both boys and girls) all took turns at both fielding and batting and in keeping with world standard rules “over the fence” was six and out.
When I remember back to the days of living in Excelsior St. my memories are those of the simpler days, when the world was not as hectic nor was there so much competition to keep up with the expectations of the community, to have the latest material possessions or be as good as everyone else. Our home was always open to friends and neighbors alike and we gave back to the community as much as we took from it.

The neighborhood represented a diverse cross section of trades and professions which included my father who was a fitter and turner, an accountant, an assembly line worker, a warehouse manager, a teacher and a truck driver. One of our immediate neighbours from next door worked in a warehouse and the lady across the road worked in a bank however, the other wives did not undertake paid work. Their duties were to look after the home, cook meals, do the washing and volunteer at the schools as coaches and fete workers.

Excelsior was a long street that stretched from Guildford all the way to Louis Street in Merrylands and we regularly caught the green bus to travel to Granville to shop or catch the train to the city. Not all that far from our home was a small group of shops that included a milk bar, a butcher, a doctor and a small grocery shop that sold most things that one could want. It was an area where one knew the neighbors well, got to know their children and was safe to walk the streets alone. We played ball games in the front yards, chasings through backyards and built imaginary castles in each other’s bedrooms.

I never had my own bedroom. When we first moved to Excelsior Street I shared a bedroom with my sister. My grandmother slept in the third room and a small area was partitioned off the lounge room for my older brother to sleep in. My parents slept in the main room with my baby brother who was born a year after we moved in. In hindsight it was a very crowded house with three generations residing there but as a child it seemed like a big house with room for all.
My grandmother moved out when I was in year 5 and went to live with her brother in a home unit in Blaxell Street Granville. My two brothers moved into her old bedroom and slept in double bunk beds, as children we thought that was really cool. The lounge area was small by today’s standards and was a long narrow room that housed both a piano and a small organ. My sister learned to play piano, I took guitar lessons and my old brother learned to play the tuba. My sister and I played netball on Saturday mornings and we walked (often unaccompanied) to the local netball courts. Those were the days when children could walk the streets in safety, play at the local playground unsupervised or visit the corner shops without fear of being attacked. Life was much safer then.
When I was in year 4 we went to school at at Granville. My father volunteered to mow lawns and paint classrooms and during the course of these activities he met two fellow volunteers whose children attended the same school; Darcy and Leon. When my father died in 1977 both men attended his funeral and when my son Benjamin died in 2002 both men attended his funeral, I was 42 years old then so you can understand that the friendships created back then lasted a lifetime and into the next generation. Indeed, I can look back at many of the neighbors of Excelsior Street and recall times where they helped one another when times were tough.
I attended school at Granville between 1969 and 1971. Year 4 was spent in an old turn of the century building where the desks sat on steps all looking down onto where our teacher Sister Fabian gave instruction. The entire building was in its original state, except for my father’s painting, and the boys sat to one side with the girls on the other. Sister Fabian was blessed with a gift for creating stories of everything that took place in life. I remember her telling us a bible story each day and we sat absorbed in the vivid detail of the era and what actions had taken place. She also had a beautiful voice (as most nuns did back then) and insisted that we all sing and play instruments to accompany her. Of all my school day teachers Sister Fabian was truly a gifted and natural teacher.
I made friends back then that I went onto attend high school with, was present at their weddings and still meet up with all these decades later. Narelle, Wendy,Irene, Donna and Patricia, were just a few of them. Another name that springs to mind was John G. In year 4 I did not really know him but if the topic of football ever arose in class no one could shut him up…..go the eels! lol.
Anyway, our house still stands in Excelsior St. as we drove past it several years ago to show the children however, it is not green any more nor are the gardens well kept. The neighbors eventually moved to age facilities or passed away and their children married and moved o to different areas. Like everything in life change occurs and the most familiar of environments change to a point of non-recognition. As we drove away I hoped that the new occupants of Excelsior Street are as happy as we were all those years ago.