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When the dust devil dances

Barcoola Sunset HPK 2015 smWhen I was young we called them a willy-willy. Growing up in the Sydney suburbs, they were these small whorls—a vortex of wind that ran along the gutters, picking up spirals of street litter. These days the Aussie Bureau of Meteorology is referring to the will-willy as a Dust Devil* and I kind of like that.

I am also liking the unexpected joys of this roving lifestyle. That includes spending lots of time outdoors. Where once I would be inside the house, at a desk or on the lounge with my laptop—for no reason but because that’s what I did—I am now sitting outside and it is opening my eyes to so much more. (When I talk about ‘sweat trickling down her spine’, I am generally feeling sweat trickling down the spine!)

Nature and the seasons always play a role in my stories. As writers we are taught to utilize all five senses so our characters touch, see, hear, smell and taste (except if you are Paige out of Season of Shadow and Light who lost her sense of smell and taste after a stroke. She was a challenge to write!)

While caravan parks have come with their share of experiences (not to mention characters) nothing has blown my mind more than two months parked in a paddock on in this amazing cattle property in Queensland’s Capricornia region.

Night and day, and every colourful moment in between, is inspiring my 2017 release. Just now one of those willy-willy winds I mentioned above whipped through—and I mean THROUGH—our van site. First as an escalating howl in distant trees. Then I watched in awe as the spiral of dust and leafy debris—at some three metres in height and just as wide—danced across the paddock towards us. I wish there’d been time to capture it with my camera because the way it gathered speed and spectacle it was truly mesmerizing display of mother nature doing her thing.

Okay, so I am easily amused. But when nature puts on a show I am at least outside to be a witness these days.

Loving this life.

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* What is a dust devil?

A dust devil is a localised dust filled vortex similar in shape to a tornado but of much less strength. They differ from dust storms in that they are a more localised and short-lived event. They form due to intense heating at the surface causing a rapid upward movement of parcel of air. This displacement of the surface air causes an inward movement of surrounding air, creating the common spiral shape of the dust devil. Dust devils are generally small in size compared with tornadoes, being about 3-100m in diameter and up to 300m high. Wind speeds inside the vortex reach a maximum of 100km/hr.

BOM: NSW Regional Office, May 2006

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Would you like a prairie oyster to go with that?

Allow me to introduce you to ‘the prairie oyster’.

HPK Dont Even Ask

The dogs seem to enjoy them. Only not my dog. I think little Daiquiri’s tastes are a tad more discerning than Diva the farm dog’s. Poor little Dac simply needed a way to say…

“No thank you. No bull’s balls for me today. I’ll stick to my Greenies.”

Greenies

Yes, the realities of farm life kind of hit me over the head today (or was that Diva tossing her prairie oyster around? Note to self: Wash hair tonight.)

No doubt about it. Kellie gets all the fun jobs! Prairie oyster prep. Someone pass their plate.

HPK Kelly on the job

 

As if being castrated isn’t enough!

While Kellie has the cattle in the crush it’s a good time to brand them.
HPK Kel and Ryan in the crushes

This, folks, is what it really looks like when you have a lot of irons in the fire.

HPK branding irons in fire

So, there you have it. And while Kellie gets all the fun jobs, I am left with the difficult task of writing the prairie oyster into a scene in my current work. I figured the least I could do, even though this book is a long way off, is whet your appetite with this teaser of words–as I’m sure I didn’t do it with the prairie oysters.

 

Here you go: The excerpt.

‘G’day!’

‘Hello.’ Gina alighted from the car, her once shiny leather boots covered in dust.

‘Where you’ve parked under the tree is fine. Good shade for a couple of hours.’ He spoke as quickly as he walked, barely glancing her way. ‘ We’ll be done by three.’

‘We will?’

‘If we get started without any delays. This way.’

‘Excuse me but . . . You are J.B. Tate?’

He paused to look back. ‘I am. Why do you ask?’

‘You’re not what I expected.’

‘Well, that makes two of us. You’re not the usual run of the mill worker I’m used to either. Not sure why they sent someone so . . . ’ His gazed travelled the length of her body—up and down. ‘Are you sure you can handle it?’

‘I’m quite capable, Mr Tate.’

Whatever the hell it was. Gina was going to do it—and do it well.

************

‘So, you wanna tell me what you had in mind when you fronted up today for the job?’ He was laughing, which was more than Gina was capable of right now. She’d thrown up as the first testicle hit the ground and the kelpie snatched it up.

‘Prairie oysters,’ he’d told. ‘Dogs love ‘em.’

Thank goodness the actual farmhand had shown up in the nick of time.

‘I thought you were your father.’

He chuckled. ‘Ahh, another journalist looking for a new angle, eh? All credit to you for the dedication. Do you always go to such lengths to get your story?’

‘No, no, I’m not a journalist,’ she said, frustration mounting. ‘I know I should’ve said straight up except . . . Well, whenever a man questions my ability—’

‘You’ve gotta prove otherwise. I get it. I do.’

‘I feel like an idiot. I assumed that whatever the job was it would involve the hospitality part of the business. I assure you I can do most things food and event related without throwing up or passing out.’

********

I hope you enjoyed that little tidbit (the excerpt, not the prairie oyster), although I am told some people consider the cow off-cuts a delicacy.

Please let me know if you are one of those people, or if you’ve partaken in one of these meaty morsels, and I will be sure to think twice before accepting an invitation to dinner!

Jokes aside, I know this stuff has to happen. I just wish that they wouldn’t look at me like that.
cow eyes sm

I keep wanting to say, “It wasn’t me! No bull!”

3 cows

If you don’t mind a good cow story, you might enjoy Season of Shadow and Light. It has cows and a fun cloven hooves scene – my favourite!

 

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