18/06/22 Don't Fall Down The Well

We spent a few days in an AirBnB in the Adelaide Hills, with a view out over the Onkaparinga valley.  It was a quirky AirBnB run by D and her husband J.

"I bought it for the view," J said.  "We used to live down in the suburbs and one day we took a friend for a drive and drove past here.  There was a For Sale sign so I slammed on the brakes and bought it."

They built a flat behind the house for D's ageing mother who is now in her 90s, robustly living by herself and declining anything so outrageously dependent as living in a flat behind her daughter's house.  D and J collected someone else to live in the flat and then blocked off half the house for an endless parade of people like us. Their guestbook contained entries from way before AirBnB was a thing.

J showed us around.  There were three acres with a dam, chickens, and a general air of unkempt wildness. "There's koalas in the gum trees," he said. "But don't walk down there when there's a strong wind blowing. Too many gum trees - you'll get a branch dropped on your head."

We made mental notes to only look for koalas on days with no wind.

The backyard dam reflections were nice,though, and the dangerous wind was absent.

Although the creepy night time garden ornaments were... creepy.

 A little gate led out to rolling hills of grass and trees, dotted with sheep and kangaroos in equal measure.  An old drystone wall meandered in and out among the trees.

"That's all owned by Mr D", said J.  "You can go wander through there, he doesn't care.  Just don't fall down the old well."

"Where's the old well?"

"I don't know.  Somewhere out there.  It's overgrown."

We made mental notes to take long sticks and test the ground in front of us if we went walking.

Morning in the Onkaparinga valley.

 There were no dish washing facilities in our space so we put our dishes on a tray outside and thanks to the intervention of the dish washing fairy they reappeared later in the day, sparkling clean. One morning the fairy appeared at our door, stylish from head to toe in shades of mauve with matching pearlescent purple walking stick.

"I'm running late!" She cried. "I'm off to my grand daughters 21st, and I don't have time to wash the dishes! Will you survive until I get back?"

We reassured her that we were going out ourselves, that the lack of clean dishes would not affect us, and she should enjoy her day.  "We're on a bus going around the wineries," she replied, and rolled her eyes in anticipation (trepidation?) as she departed.

J returned the dishes after dark.  He was both dapper and disheveled in a sharp suit with white hair sticking out all over his head, as if he had been electrocuted.  "How was the party?" I asked. He put his hands over his ears and shuddered. "The music was so loud! These young people! Dancing on a bus!" I suspected from the size of his smile that he had a grand time, and may possibly have indulged in a spot of bus dancing himself.

We went walking in the Onkaparinga National Park and sojourned to Hallett Cove to collect the keys for our next house sit.  When we weren't out we stayed inside where it was warm, but one afternoon I put on my beanie and went out for a wander to the drystone wall, keeping a suitable look out for lurking overgrown wells.  

The kangaroo gang kept a wary eye on me.

A crumbling dry stone wall was all that remained of the original homestead.

I didn't find the well.

A cold and persistent spatter of rain threatened my camera, so I gave up on photographing the non-existent sunset and went inside.  On the way I bumped into D who instructed me to just leave the key in the door when we left in the morning.  "I won't be home," she said.  "My birthday's coming and my Mum is taking me shopping.  Mum loves shopping and there's no way I'll get her away from the shops before midday."

Good on Mum who, let me remind you, has already celebrated her 90th birthday.

Evening over the Onkaparinga valley.