Cracker Night! That legendary Tasmanian custom. It was a first for me the other night. We had neighbours over, about 15 of us with their families, a BBQ out in the open air on a perfect winter's night. Calm, clear skies and a massive bonfire! We'd purchased a fireworks licence, cos that's how they roll down here, and then ordered our fireworks online before picking them up from the official outlet.
And then Hubby happened.
We even had fireworks sitting upside down for a while until someone suggested they might work better the other way up and then they whizzed off into the night. The rockets were the best. Across the valley another lot of fireworks was going off, so it was fun to watch theirs too.
Good food, good company and a perfect night. The kids ran around and mostly ignored the fireworks. (um, wasn't it for them we bought all that stuff?) while the adults laughed and enjoyed the BBQ.
All in all a great first cracker night.
In other news, the sown paddocks are coming up nicely with the smattering of rain we've had just at the right times. Just look at this lush green beautifulness! And thanks to a LOT of wallaby culling (over 200 were on this property alone) and better fencing, we have now controlled their numbers and the land can recover. We've also planted lots more wind break trees and trees & bushes to stop soil erosion. It will be a few years before that's noticeable, but we have to start somewhere...
So, catching mice.
I'm so proud of my boy! Harry had a bit of a tummy bug last week and was vomiting all over the house. When he sat drooping over his water dish Monday morning I rushed him to the vet. She was worried he'd eaten something foreign and had an obstruction, but I remembered he had gorged himself Friday night and threw it all up later, (about 2am, under my bed). I convinced her he wasn't in the habit of eating toys and she consented to just giving him an anti nausea injection and antibiotics. He perked up very quickly. By Tuesday he was eating normally had caught his first mouse! Good cat! My brave little tiger.
Harry has also been busy training me to respond in a way he approves lately, such as setting up a stool for him to supervise me when I'm cooking. (needle-like claws into my legs does the trick). And to insist he taste everything. Or at the very least sniff at it. Just in case it's edible. Crumbs! You can't even cook in your own kitchen any more without an audience.
But how can I refuse those big yellow eyes?
So the cat wins.
Pathetic, I know.