up the creek

To finish this road trip I drove up through Laidley along the road that follows the creek to its source in the mountains behind Townson.  I posted photos of the homes of both sets of grandparents and my great-grandparents in this little valley a few weeks ago as soon as I returned home.  I have just a few more I'd like to share.

More of those irrigation pipes but this time against the familiar backdrop of the hillsides of the valley that leads to where my childhood memories lay. 

 

More modern irrigation methods:

The dry grassy paddocks contrasting with the fields that have been irrigated.

I love this place in all seasons, even when it is desperately dry.  The fertile flats, the backdrop of the mountains, the Little Liverpool Range (east) and the Mistake Mountains (west). And Mt Castle standing there like a fortress, a sure sign that I am nearing my destination. 

Mount Mistake is a 1,698 ft / 518 m mountain peak near Gatton, Queensland - See more at: http://peakery.com/mount-mistake-australia-2/#sthash.mv2m3mmB.dpuf

Mount Mistake is a 1,698 ft / 518 m mountain peak near Gatton, Queensland - See more at: http://peakery.com/mount-mistake-australia-2/#sthash.mv2m3mmB.dpuf

Mount Mistake is a 1,698 ft / 518 m mountain peak near Gatton, Queensland - See more at: http://peakery.com/mount-mistake-australia-2/#sthash.mv2m3mmB.dpuf

Mount Mistake is a 1,698 ft / 518 m mountain peak near Gatton, Queensland, A - See more at: http://peakery.com/mount-mistake-australia-2/#sthash.mv2m3mmB.dpuf

Mount Mistake is a 1,698 ft / 518 m mountain peak near Gatton, Queensland, A - See more at: http://peakery.com/mount-mistake-australia-2/#sthash.mv2m3mmB.dpuf

Crosby horses and Cottonbush Avenue

One of the highlight of my recent trip home to Brisbane was the trip down memory lane I took with my brother Peter, his wife, Pommy Jude (to differentiate from Aussie Jude) and a young couple of their friends from England, Tom and Ellie.  We took a drive to Laidley and up the Laidley Creek to where both our parents grew up and to see our maternal grandparents' old farm where we spent our school holidays. 

As children the first piece of news we sought upon arrival at the farm was how much water there was in the creek.  Quite often there was none and that meant one less delight for our holidays.  Peter and I were like excited children when we saw not only was there water in the creek but it was running quite swiftly and deeply over the crossing to our grandparents old house.  I can only recall seeing water that deep twice in all the years I visited the farm.  

We carried on up the road towards the area now known as Crosby Park but known to our family as Cottonbush Avenue, pausing to take a photo of the home of our maternal great-parents Crosby.

The cotton bush which grow profusely in this area is a weed, otherwise known as the swan plant and is poisonous to stock - which thankfully usually know better than to eat it.  Our Grandad was a funny man, he used to refer to this area simply as Cotton Bush and over the years added the avenue bit , obviously to amuse himself.

When we reached the picnic area, the table and sun shelter was already occupied.   Crosby horses know the best place to be on a hot day.

Not too sure what Peter is saying to them but they aren't listening!

We eventually convinced the horses to allow us to temporarily use their shelter for a picnic lunch.

But slowly they all crept back looking for titbits.

Watch out, Ellie.  It's behind you!

One beauty liked grapes although she had a bit of difficulty taking them from my hand.  I laughed when I saw this photo and the expression on the horse's face - "Oh darn, she dropped it!"

Peter took the young folk on a hike up Grassy Tree Knob and to his delight they flushed out a black snake.  Lucky Tom and Ellie, not every tourist to our country gets to see a snake in its natural habitat.  Actually I think it should be grass tree knob, named for the plants that grow there, and we have changed it's name over the years.  Jude and I had a wander further up along the road to where a locked gate marks the end of the road, then down along the creek with me chewing her ear and telling yarns of our childhood holidays spent playing in the creek.

It was so good being back there with the water running.