Lockdown Day #2

I am home babysitting the newly arrived kitties. Kitty travel trauma is real!

"Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world."
— Oscar Wilde

"Learn what is to be taken seriously and laugh at the rest."
— Hermann Hesse

"You swam in a river of chance and coincidence. You clung to the happiest accidents—the rest you let float by."
— David Wroblewski (The Story of Edgar Sawtelle)

The cats arrived safely, although it was a bit fraught the last 24 hours of their enforced confinement. There was a bit of a snafu on who was supposed to pick them up from Melbourne quarantine and deliver them to our little idyllic cottage in Allens Rivulet. Fortunately, our very expensive and very effective international pet relocation specialists stepped in and straightened it all out.

Alfred and Nyx are semi-happily esconced. We figure it will take a couple more days before they stop following us into every room and curling up in our laps every time we sit down. They are eating like Trojans, and will hopefully regain the lost pounds quickly.

Due to their ongoing trauma, we decided that one of us would stay back while the other shopped for food. I can’t drive here on my own yet, so I am cat sitting while my better half forages at the grocery store. This is my second day enclosed in the perfect cottage. We had to stay put yesterday until the cats arrived, and then it was too late to go out. (Like the cats would have let us those first few hours. Alfred and Nyx think we are gods risen from the dead. It will take a while for the awe to wear off.)

I heard myself say “If I’m staying in again today, you will HAVE to take me somewhere tomorrow. I need human contact!” And it’s like my mother was whispering inside my head, warning me of things to come if I ignore my instincts.

My parents had a beautiful mountain house with a gorgeous view, a place to escape from the city for a long weekend or come up for a week when the leaves changed.

Behold. It IS perfect in their section of The Appalachians. So restful.

When they both retired, the mountain house became their permanent home. This suited my father down to the ground - he loves to repair and refinish antique furniture, a fairly solitary pursuit - but my mother was a social animal. She loved to talk to people, find out everything interesting about them, draw them out of their shells and enjoy the effect her charm and humor had on friends and strangers alike.

My mother loved the mountains, the view from the deck, the hikes, walking to the nearby waterfall with visiting grandchildren. So she made the best of the rest - driving longer to meet friends to shop or dine, and playing beautiful music in the car to pass the time when she had an appointment with her heart doctor an hour away.

Bottom line, I’m realizing I should pay attention to that whisper. I need to think about the choices before we buy a house - what I gain and what I lose. Here at the Air BNB fairy tale cottage, we have a BEYOOTIFUL view, but after two days, I’m a bit lonely.

Herr Zen has been adamant about finding a house where I can walk to a cafe or library or store. If he goes kayaking and takes the car, he doesn’t want me stuck at home. Ideally, we’ll have a second car fairly quickly, but even with a second car I would rather drive a short distance than a long one. It’s going to take a while to feel comfortable on the other side of the road.

We both want a view that makes us happy. But I am now considering whether I actually want a dramatic view of a gorgeous, forested valley or if I’d like a view of a valley with a few roads, houses and neighbors marring the vista. And a cafe within walking distance just in case. Hmm. Something to bring up with Maree the Real Estate agent.

Mom is still giving me good advice.

ANYWAY. Nyx is eating dry cat food at my feet and Alfred is sulking somewhere. (I can’t find him. Hopefully he’s under a bed and will pop out once Herr Zen returns. I am not his person. Clearly.) I have an enforced day of rest, so I thought I’d give you a little mishmash of Tasmanian info from this week and even a little history.

ANZAC Biscuits. Well, you already know I’m an addict. I could eat them every day, but then I couldn’t fit into any of my clothes. And they are already tight, people. Tasmania is the ideal vacation spot for a foodie. You just need a little self control, never my strong suit. Nyx got into the act on this one and I didn’t have the heart to make her move.

In case you want to make your own, the second part of the tea towel recipe reads “Sift flour. Add sugar, oats and coconut. Melt butter. Add golden syrup and water. Stir in bicarb of soda. Mix all ingredients together. Make into balls and place on a tray. Bake at 175 c for 15 to 20 minutes.”

Delicious. Can’t wait to make my own, the homemade ones are the BEST! I bought the tea towel from two Army veterans at the ANZAC table outside of the grocery store. And today is ANZAC Day here. It was meant to be.

The origin and invention of the sweet Anzac biscuit is contested. Although it’s a myth that Anzac biscuits were sent and eaten by troops in Gallipoli, some evidence suggests a rolled oats based biscuit was sent to troops on the Western Front.

The majority of rolled oats biscuits were in fact sold and consumed at fetes, galas, parades and other public events at home, to raise funds for the war effort. This connection to the troops serving overseas led to them being referred to as “soldier’s biscuits”.

The basic ingredients for a rolled oat biscuit were rolled oats, sugar, flour, butter with golden syrup, not eggs, used as a binding agent. This made them not only nutritious and full of energy but also long lasting.

Nutritious outweighs calories. It’s true, I tell you.

Making Anzac biscuits is one tradition that Australians use to commemorate Anzac day. Everyone has their favourite recipe and there are countless arguments over whether they should be served crunchy or soft.

Oh, that’s easy. They should be served SOFT the first day, right out of the oven, and the second day (the golden syrup is still fairly malleable) and crunchy the third day when they start to dry out a bit.

A dozen ANZAC biscuits normally last me three days, but if Herr Zen is watching, I try to stretch it to a more ladylike four days. That would be a cookie with each meal. I think that’s reasonable. (I could give a fig what Herr Zen says, four days is as far as I am willing to go.)

ANZAC Day. Today marks the 110th Anniversary. We’ve had a couple of military planes flying overhead. I figure they they are lining up as part of a flyover for the ceremony in Hobart.

ANZAC stands for Australian and New Zealand Army Corps and falls on the 25th of April each year.

On the 25th of April 1915, Australian and New Zealand soldiers formed part of the allied expedition that set out to capture the Gallipoli peninsula. These became known as Anzacs and the pride they took in that name continues to this day.

The Anzacs landed on Gallipoli and met fierce resistance from the Ottoman Turkish defenders. Their plan to knock Türkiye out of the war quickly became a stalemate and the campaign dragged on for eight months.

At the end of 1915, the allied forces were evacuated. Both sides suffered heavy casualties and endured great hardships. Over 8,000 Australian soldiers were killed.

The meaning of Anzac Day today includes the remembrance of all Australians killed in military operations. Commemorative services are held at war memorials at dawn – the time of the original landing in Gallipoli. Later in the day, current and former servicemen and women meet to take part in marches.

I’ve been to a few ANZAC Day Dawn Commemorations. Quite moving. Especially when they play The Last Post, which gets me every time. And at the last one, they gave me a shot of Australian Bundaberg Rum, I think to symbolize what the soldiers had before going up the ladders and over the top into battle.

Here’s a three minute clip of the dawn ceremony this morning in Martin Place, Sydney. See what I mean?

Now, from the past to the future.

Tempting Trips for Winter Visitors. I am already trying to get the lay of the land for family members and friends who might visit us. I mean, who wouldn’t love to fly from the horrible humidity of Georgia in the summertime to this beautiful place with the last cruise stop before Antarctica? We’re about to get chilly, people. Yay! (For any friends taking the Antarctica Cruise, please email or call me before you dock in Hobart so I can meet you for dinner.)

I found the perfect website. While perusing it for you, I actually found the perfect winter Tasmanian trip for ME! (Herr Zen will be pleased that I am planning luxury travel while we are trying to buy a house. Sure! It will keep my mind off of all of those horrible price negotiations and budgety stuff. He’s better with that anyway.)

I’d choose this one.

“Escape to Eden. Weather the Tasmanian winter in antiquated style at The Barn.

Your three-night farmstay begins with a cheese board and wine or port on arrival, before you settle into farm life. Spend the day exploring the property, then retreat to the self-contained barn to cook up an alfresco evening meal on the deck before cuddling-up with a book by the fire.

For more information, visit The Off Season website.”

And of course I did. I mean, three days with just a cheeseboard, a meal that I cook myself in a barn and a book - surely there’s MORE.

Roaming through the orchard, roasting marshmallows, feeding the Highland cattle, sheep and alpacas. Catch the Southern lights from the back deck of the Barn. Only 45 minutes away from Hobart. Join farm tour in the late afternoons to feed all the animals. Most of them are hand fed, even the big cows cannot resist a juicy apple, a great experience for young and old.

Well. How much more perfect can it BE for this Disney Girl? I’ll tell you - they have GOATS!

I LOVE GOATS! Sure they are a little devilish with their split hooves and scary pupils, but still. Adorable. I might need to stay FOUR days.

Really, we should just buy me a farm already. Except I’m practical enough to know I’d rather feed the animals than shovel out the stalls and hen house on the cleaning days. (There are cleaning DAYS, right? I don’t have to do it EVERY day. Surely.)

Pretty sure the shoveling stuff comes as part of the bargain. I have to draw the line at litterboxes. That’s enough for me.

For anyone coming to visit us in the winter, or if you just want to pretend - like me! - here’s the website. Huon Valley in the ‘Off Season.’ Even the off season looks pretty damn good.