No knees, no water, no grass, but we have fences

I had the surgery for my Evil Knee  in November. It is now Januaury, and although I can walk limited distances, stand for short periods of time, and even potter in the garden for an hour, I certainly cannot dig, carry or mow. There is an incessant ache in the knee, with intermittant bouts of pain so amazing that I have my own cupboard full of  drugs to die for (if you have any junkie inclinations).

These obstacles are nothing compared to the arrival of a new drought. I have spent $500 on water in the past five months, and although I am watering the garden, I cannot let the hoses run long enough to penetrate to any depth. We are merely keeping things alive - and in some instances, prolonging their dying.

Lush strips of grass have perished away to dust. I envy our friends in town who let their sprinklers run day and night, and have thriving plants. Not everyone indulges their water lust - those who do proclaim it with radiant green verges in the midst of lawns so crisp they crackle underfoot. When I look back on the photographs of a year ago, I feel oddly guilty. The garden I inherited was in much better condition. But that was an abnormally wet year, and as we did not know this district, we were not aware of what a false picture all that rain painted.

The  harsh reality of soaring temperatures and no rainfall is hardly my fault even if I should have known better and (a) preserved what water we had (b) sunk a bore (c) dug a dam. All self flagellation aside, I cannot control the weather or my Evil Knee.

But we do have fences. I must admit they are not as beautiful as the old rusty things that neither kept things in nor out. But one day when it rains and I can dig holes once again, the new metal will vanish under a heap of roses and shrubs. By the way, the new fences do not necessarily keep the dogs in so much as make it more inconvenient to get out. In the same way that my knee surgery neither cured nor killed. It is the season of procrastination and uncertainty that we are  in.

The most beautiful thing that has happened is RooGate - my bush carpenter by the improbable name of Roo suggested an old bed base would make a great gate for the geese. Happily I had one in my rust gallery. It was rescued from the old iron fences that seemed to be made entirely of bed heads, bed bases and bits of corrugated iron. It is such a lovely piece of bush carpentry and the ultimate in recycling.

New Gate (left)  and Roo Gate (Below)

The new gate replaces the beautiful ancient weathered useless thing that I posted in my previous blog. This modern monster and the rabbit proof fence that goes with it, keeps out hares (as big as dogs) wombats, kangaroos, beautiful brown swamp wallabies, goannas, but not feral cats or koalas.

Roo Gate is strictly to keep the geese and chickens in.
Roo is coming back in the autumn to fell trees and stack the wood piles for winter. I am also waiting on a man who says he can demolish one outside dunny, brick by brick, and turn it into retaining walls and paths.

Out of deference to my Evil Knees I am going to build the paths wide enough for our ride on mower and trailer. I am not good at driving this thing, as it doesn't have a standard steering wheel. But it is mobility.