Our most frequent visitors were my younger daughter , Vanessa , her husband Bruce , and later they brought their two boys , Garth and Tim. As I posted previously , Bruce was a great help in the post-mowing clean ups , and very early in our time on the block we had built a huge pile of cut bladey grass just down the slope from the house .

Bruce also frequently expressed his amazement at what he called the longest hose in New South Wales , if not the country . Until I had established the irrigation system in the orchard I had to run hoses from the two standing taps outside the house . Sometimes I had to link four major lengths into one , hence his remark on the longest of hoses.

I was still organising the orchard plantings , and had not set a mulching process in operation , so we decided to burn the huge pile of grass we had built up . At least the potash would later provide some stimulation for the trees . Carefully ensuring that the long hose was set in position to control any errant sparks or flame , we set up and lit the first part of what we now recall as the Giant Bonfire .

We sat on the verandah , refreshing ourselves regulary with a copious supply of good cold white wine , and every now and then Vanessa or Bruce would race whooping out to replenish the fire . They went on whooping and replenishing long after I had taken my old bones to bed .

Another most memorable day with the pair was a trip up the Macleay Valley. We had not long purchased a Corolla hatchback , and I was adjured by wife that this was one car that we would not be taking into the rough areas of the countryside in the way that we had taken our previous vehicles through some undeveloped parts . She was with us that day , yet once we had passed up the valley through a couple of the old towns there , Willawarrin and Bellbrook , it was she who suggested we move out and away from the tarred highway .

The road through the forest at Five Mile Creek was , to say the least , variable. Some of it was easily negotiable, being roads cut for any bushfire emergencies , so we explored a few . One of the roads was apparently still being cut , because it got narrower and narrower until we came to a place where there was a shut down bulldozer. A couple of feet beyond that there was a considerable drop , but fortunately behind it there was enough room for me to do a three point turn and go back the way we had come . I would not have appreciated having to reverse along the winding track . However, the view from the stopping point was spectacular , so it was not entirely a wasted hour or so .

The variability of the tracks cut through the forest showed up on our next trip to the side . There, I had to gun the car through a very boggy patch , but we made it safely , although the vehicle was sprayed with mud . Thereupon I myself took on the decision making as to which tracks we would travel , and stuck to reasonably well formed gravel roads .

We had local maps that did not show all the fire-trails in the forest area , but even before we had built at Dondingalong I had purchased some big topographical survey maps from the Lands Department . They were years out of date ,as the latest aerial survey was only then in progress but they did show most of the roads around the area .

This enabled us to follow the roads to a high point shown on the contours , and as I had a small compass with me , Bruce , an experienced sailor/navigator , was able to pinpoint where we were and that enabled us to reach a higher point in the valley . That sweeping view from the top of a small mountain made the trip worth while and memorable . It was a great day with interesting moments .

Vanessa and Bruce had both been with me when we had the horse visitor I mentioned in a previous posting . When they brought the two young boys up with them , it was interesting to be able to give the elder , Garth , some of the country experiences that many city boys never see. Tim was too young to take in a lot , but I have one very clear image of him standing between the handles of a wheelbarrow while I raked mown grass.

There is a kind of middle-sized black ant that makes nests in the open areas , and the wheelbarrow had been left standing over one . The ants naturally had been upset by having their small mound flattened by my mower . Though he was far too small to push the barrow , Tim was there with an ambition to push , dressed in just a singlet and a rather droopy nappy . I looked up from what I was doing , to see how he was going, and there he was , not making a sound , but with big tears rolling down his cheeks .

I had to rush up , grasp him and strip him , because the ants had decided to take it out on him rather than me , and he was covered in them from the waist down . He was not badly bitten at all , just a bit upset that nature had taken up against him.

As a snapshot memory the sight of his tear streaked face remains very vivid .

It seems odd that we never had any trouble with snakes , leeches , ticks attacking the boys , but Garth also had a run-in with ants. I took him for walks through the scrub , and always carefully pointed out the largish mounds of what I knew as soldier ants which are very large ants , with formidable mandibles, to be avoided . I am not sure of the name , as they could also be called bulldog ants , I think .

It was almost inevitable that a curious small boy would attempt to stir the nest , and though he moved away fast , one of the ants was faster . My grandfather had taught me that if you pull up a bracken fern , break it open near the root , you can use the sticky interior as an emollient . Garth learned two new things that day .

It was unfortunate , I feel , that all my children and grandchildren did not have more opportunities to enjoy the block as they grew older , but the time they did spend there was very rewarding .