The green, green gardens of Gerolstein

Why will the peacocks perch on our sign?

Its the morning of Christmas Day. Wendy is out paying visits to her family on the other side of town, Paulie is in Yamba, with the first slice of the Hankinson-Fahey Family, brother John is shivering in the northern wastes of Leicestershire, PGB doesn't arrive till New Year's Day. So there is just me, myself and I here at Gerolstein. Even the peacock clan seem to be respecting the fact, and have ceased their squalling momentarily ...

So I decided to go for a little Noellic stroll. in the company of my Yamba-Camera, around the gardens. I can't call them 'my' gardens for every single bit of care tendered them has been Wendy's work. So they are 'our' gardens, but they surround my house. There are more around Wendy's...!

I have been meaning to do this for some time. When, until recently, I travelled the world, and people were interested in the strangely-named Gerolstein, I discovered time and time again that mostly what I had to show them was pictures of horses, baby horses, horses running round the in-house racetrack, pictures of peacocks, cats or haymaking, rainbows or storms. And when I did take a straightforward shot of my bungalow, or Wendy's bungalow, it was always the same one.

So, here are the few snaps of what's outside my windows which I managed to take before the 30 degree heat drove me back indoors.

Out the bedroom doors .....

Past the peacock infirmary (he has his own deck-area)

On to the inner lawn (Wendy's house through the trees)

Down to the riverbank

The old orchard 

My favourite fern-garden under my bedroom window

View towards Wendy's gardens, prepped for summer planting

Everyone's got to have one. The Pump shed

Beyond lies the training track and the rest of our 35 acres

But we're not going there. My t-shirt is already soaked ... so back through the garden gate to the refrigerator...

When we first bought this place, seventeen years ago, I knew nothing about any sort of farming or country living. One day I saw a little seedling of that pretty silver penny gum. It was right in the horse paddock, so it was not going to live. I dug it up, and re-planted it up near the forest. Well, the forest is gone now: smashed down by the storms of several years ago, but my little tree, chewed by horses till it seemed a hopeless cause, is still there, all alone and grown ...

Then a couple of years ago we were given a walnut sprout. Hmm. With voracious peafowl stalking the lawns? But our little nut tree has survived and grown healthily in the garden above the river ...

'I had a little nut tree...'. I wonder if I will live to see this fellow bear fruit!

But most things prosper at Gerolstein.