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MY FIRST DAYS IN EVA VALLEY, AUSTRALIA [1]: RETREAT
View Of The Driveway Facing East On The Ex-Mango Farm At Eva Valley, The Northern Territory, Australia.
My first experiences the ex-mango farm, occurred in the following way. It was early in the morning and the farm was lush and green with wet season grass. It was big and foreign to my experience. I had only looked over it briefly, paying little attention to the finer details, before handing it over to The Faith Centre [C3 Church] in Darwin, as God had instructed me to do. Now I was out here on my own, with cat, kitten and puppy, confronted with a situation unexpected in a landscape unknown. I had very little idea of the property particulars, the layout of the land, the quality and style of the fencing, the positioning and size of the gates, the distribution of orchards and accompanying irrigation, the contents of the half built shed, the workings of the watertank and bores, what wildlife was in the area, the climate and the condition of the electricals, the cycles of vegetation, both native and introduced, what grew and didn't grow, during a wet and a dry season, what birds called across the acres at dawn and what insects would swarm, upon the verandah lights at night, the vintage mystery of the old Massey Ferguson tractor, held together by hornets nests and red clay, the bits and pieces that had been left behind, how they were to be utilised or discarded, what worked and what didn't work, in order to hold the farm together, as a mechanism, both independant and reliant on external imput, like a clock, whose hands rotated around the day and night, in an attempt to be fully sufficient and functional within itself. The ex-mango farm remained a complete mystery to me, in much the same way that God Almighty did, during these first days, at Eva Valley.
An Unexpected Encounter
House, Shed, Radio Phone Tower And 4WD, On The Ex-Mango Farm At Eva Valley, In The Wet Season.
It was early in the morning when I went for a walk. It was just after the sun had risen, over the low lying mountains in the distance, to shyly peek across thew valley, before scorching it through the openings between the clouds, without consideration shown, to those small birds and reptiles, who fluttered and scurried our of its path. Leaving the two cats Pushkin and Princess behind, in the small stone cottage, I took my new puppy Banjo, out onto the property. We went through a gap in the fence, whereupon, we inspected a large back paddock, with scattered mango trees. In this paddock, there were all kinds of items and objects, half hidden in the long grass, peaking out like rocks, sharp and dangerous treasures, being born from the earth, unknown machinery, kitchen sinks, mesh and glass doors, fencing wire, gutterings, a couple of broken down sheds, irrigation pipes, rusting tools left behind, now adding their own history to the place, smashed glass, containers, corrugated iron panels, star pickets and many 'a thing', that I would never have thought about, outside of this particular environment. These had been collected by the previous owner, whose name was Theo [Greek for God]. Theo "the god", had been tragically killed by a mosquito biting him, in the prime of his life. Now I was the dazed and reluctant benefactor, of his half completed projects and schemes, peeking out from the grass, as Banjo and I passed by them, on our way east, towards the low lying ranges.
I walked off towards the mango orchard in the distance, with my new puppy Banjo, as company. I was eventually to learn, that this gently undulating land, was named Eva Valley. So I was living in Eva Valley and not Batchelor, as I had first thought.
At one point, I came across a pair Theo's old blue rubber thongs. They were lovingly positioned upon the ground, facing the east, out over the valley, in such a way, as if he might still be standing in them himself, looking out across the little kingdom, that he had been creating for his family, for wife Judy and his son 'Lucky'. But it had too quickly proven, to be a transitory kingdom, in which they had all gone missing and where only his treasures remained. Banjo and I passed by those thongs and we ended up in the crooked course, of a small and deep rocky creek bed. This was refered to as "the council easement" and it was where all the water, that ran down along the road, at the front of the property, found its way inland, having been expertly redirected, through two large concrete pipes, where it would then race along its artificial course, on the southern perimeter of the property, right down the side, so that in the dry season, the large sandy chunks, of granite and coffee rock, that had been dumped there by the council, were free to bake in the sun and in the wet season, they simply resisted the current, turned upon them like a firehose, where the pounding storms of rain, reawoke the colour upon their enduring surfaces, as the entire easement, became a raging torrent of bubbling red water, boisterous and aswirl, to be driven relentlessly east, until it settled into a long, low and swampy area, at the very far end of the property. For now the rains had eased and so there was mixture of randomly dumped boulders, sunning themselves and trickles of white water rolling and foaming, sucking and slurping, into crevices here and there. This is the artificial creek, or the council easement, that Banjo and I walked along, during our morning's brief adventure. After trying this route for a short while, we came to a forest, of closely planted mango trees, that I quickly refered to as Fangorn Forest [from Tolkein's, The Lord Of The Rings], because the canopy of trees, both covered the ground and blocked out the sky, so that scarce light, filtered down onto the leaf strewn orchard, that lay at the base of the large overgrown trees, pipes of varying sizes and distances apart, sticking up out of the earth, irrigation strewn everywhere.
Mango Trees And Young Gamba Grass, On The Ex-Mango Farm At Eva Valley, In The Wet Season.
It was a fascinating place to me and we might had continued our journey, but for the fact, that in the distance, towards the east and o the direction that we were leading, I saw a group of large colourful dogs galloping across the property. These were very big dogs, mongrel breds, dingo blood, pig dogs, mastifs, large broad headed dogs, muscular half bred dogs, shooters dogs and they has formed a pack. I froze with an immediate sense of danger, not really taking into consideration, that we were upwind from them. My immediate concern was for Banjo. If those dogs caught a scent of us, they would tear him and me apart. I quickly called his name and snatched him up, from the leaves and stones, as I began to run back up along the council easment, to the paddock that we had crossed. I chose to stay within the easement, until we could cut across to the gate. It was hard to run. Banjo's puppy body was warm and slippery in my arms, he becoming heavier as we took off west, without looking back. Banjo was warm and overflowing, with his awkward puppy muscles, already starting to develop, into what would be, a very large and mature dog himself. It didn't take long, before we arrived back at the stone cottage, with Banjo dopey, calm and oblivious and with me exhausted and thankful. Nevertheless, the incident taught me, that there was danger, out on that property and the surrounding areas, which were made up of wilderness, National Parks and back blocks, to adjoining neighbour's properties. It was the fire fighter and his family to the north, the Vietnamese mango farmers to the south, the cattle farmers to the east, that eventually came to The Stuart Highway and towards the west, the rocky quartz strewn ranges, rising and falling their way, into Litchfield National Park.
Furniture In The Grass
The Old Tin House, Had Been Brought To The Block By Theo, From A Greek Building Site.
I looked down at the old furniture, that had been left in the grass, by Rosco and company, thinking to myself, that the monsoonal rain, was going to destroy it, if it wasn't moved in, under shelter, soon. The house was missing a verandah and so, they had simply pushed the furniture out of a double security screen door, where it fell with a crash, ending up in a pile, now strewn across the ground. Now I was here, with only Banjo and the two cats noting it was heavy furniture, so I had no chance, of moving it back into the house, or under shelter, on my own, in order that it would not be destroyed. No matter what I had planned to do with it, I could not salvage it.
The Furniture That Was Thrown Onto The Grass, Would Remain There For The Next Two Years.
As the weeks passed, turning into months, the grass grew higher, around the fallen furniture and stil no-one came to help me move it. All I could do, each time I passed by it, was to watch it deteriorate, as it gradually buckled, peeled and sank into the ground, gravity driving everything on the Miles Road property, down into the earth, from rain, to fruit, from bird, to wood, from mountains, to monuments. Only the wind seemed to escape, the wind rushing by with the sound of the surf, through a valley of dry leaves and sometimes the wind appeared to be dragging things along with it, as if placing a fob watch into coat pocket, when in a definite hurry, to meet somebody, at some other time and in some other place, but never were you were.
From this still point, on 40 arid acres of fenced earth, where I found myself, in early 2010, the wind was like a train, that you had to keep boarding, but that you were bound to keep missing. It was like the surf along Lee Point Reserve, back in Darwin, smashing everything into the sand, the curling and sudden stomping down, of the salty white water, into platforms of shells and colourful sand, the wind and surf grinding everything down. The furniture collapsing into the grass, occurred very quickly, not unlike civilsations past, the chip board of Eva Valley and the Sphinx of The Valley of the Kings, thousands of miles snd years apart and yet so much alike, all heading towards the earth, to their final destination, returning to the dust, that they we created from, to be trodden down by a force of mind, who had gradually become the unloved and unknown creator, as the entire earth was crushed, beneath His feet.
As for the Faith Centre, no one from the church, except for Kim, contacted me again. No one invited me to the church for Christmas or New Years. None rang to see how I was going, or of I needed any help out on the property. I didn't actually think of this, at the time. The only awareness I had, was a growing outrage inside me, as to why the church had not accepted the gift of the property. I didn't understand why they would not do, what God had wanted them to do. That was about the limit of my thinking, towards anyone whom I had met, through the church, while I had been under diabolical attack, in Darwin. I had little understanding at the time, of the fact, that God had known well in advance, that I was going to be obedient, by giving the property to the church and that they were going to be disobedient, by not receiving it. I was told by a holy angel of God, that I was not to have any feelings of anger or resentment, regarding the matter. Later, I was to learn, that it had all been part of God's plan. While I was happy to be in the company of Banjo, Pushkin and Princess, the focused presence of mind, from The Kingdom of Heaven, concerned me and I anxiously enquired, as to why I was receiving all this attention. Perhaps part of me still thought that I was somehow special, or that in some way, I deserved to receive it. The holy angel, soon set me straight, as he replied, because you were left alone.
I Had No Concept Of Having Been Actually Left Alone, Until A Holy Angel Of God, Brought It To My Attention.
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