The Farm on Churchill Island

What’s the one thing better than a working heritage farm?  A working heritage farm… on an island!  And guess what?  There just so happens to be one of those around a ninety minute drive from my house.  As we know from my previous ramblings, a ninety minute drive is a perfectly reasonable distance to travel for a day’s gallivanting with my Chef and my camera, so when the aforementioned Chef had a day off, guess where we went?

Yep.

Churchill Island Heritage Farm.

Thanks to my working Monday to Friday and the Chef constantly being rostered on both weekend days, it’s been ages since we’d been on a silly adventure.  Huzzah for working in a school, I say.  With four weeks off, I finally had a chance to spend some time with the Chef.  We were distracted by a few op shops on the way in (including this ridiculously adorable one), but we made it at last, driving across the one lane bridge to the farm on an island of its own.

Those flowers are stupidly over-exposed and I don’t care.  I looked at the image after I took it and decided I’d say it was exactly the effect I was going for.  So there you are.  Exactly the effect I was going for.

I would also like to transplant that dresser directly into my kitchen.  Not my current one, because then we’d be faced with the problem of deciding if we want the dresser in the kitchen or ourselves.  And I’m afraid that a photogenic dresser would be absolute rubbish at cooking or doing the dishes.

Now, have I mentioned the wallpaper yet?

Wallpaper.  And there was more of this in every room.  Obviously.

At this point, I should mention my favourite part of Churchill Island was the ability to take photos of the gorgeousness.  So many places won’t let you take photos, which I feel is a little short-sighted.  No-one’s going to come if they don’t know the walls are covered in the maddest of historically accurate Victorian wallpapers (and trust me, these are nothing compared with the ones I couldn’t photograph at Black Rock House).

A touch of Christmas in the background.

One of the good things about the Chef is that he notices things.  There I am, randomly trying to take arty photos of gardens through silhouetted window panes when he’s trying to draw my attention to things that are actually interesting.  Such as this New Holland Honeyeater.  In other news: the purple flowers are apparently delicious.

Touring a heritage farm is thirsty business.  I’ll just check if the kettle’s boiled and we’ll have some tea.

From the photo above, you might assume we had the place to ourselves, allowing us to wander around freely.

Hahahaha, no.  We were visiting a tourist attraction in the middle of the Summer holidays.  It was packed with families.  I had to wait roughly half a lifetime before there were no people visible in the little setting above.

There were two peacocks strutting around with their tails on display, but apparently, this is the best it can do for me.  Well, you know what?  Anyone can get a photo of a peacock with its tail up; I like to look for the more casual peacock.

Because then there’s this turkey below…

I’m still not sure if this gesture says ‘follow me’ or ‘get the blazes out of my barn’.  Either way, it’s been captured for posterity.  We followed him regardless.  He didn’t seem to mind.

I just want to make ridiculous squeeing noises every time I see this photo.  Argh, it’s such a gorgeous little handful of fluff.  I wanted to put it in my pocket and take it home but the Chef said no, we were going to steal the ducklings instead.

Now this is a cow who knows how to work a limpid eye.  Actually, that kind of sounds like a disease, so let’s forget I mentioned it.  Now this is a cow who knows how to pose.  Nice eye contact; clever use of angles.  Would photograph again.

We wandered back to look through the other rooms of the farmhouse, we were found… creepy mannequins.

If you’re new to my ramblings, you won’t know this, but I am constantly plauged by creepy mannequins.  They haunt me wherever I go and there’s always something a little different each time.  In this case, the Chef said what I know we’re all thinking: That one’s a vampire.  Yes.  Yes, he is.  A vampire mannequin.  Look at him, gazing in predatory desire at the lady mannequin.  I vant to ineffectually attack your plastic neck…  No wonder the lady in white has that expression of resigned horror on her face.

Nothing, however, explains the cannon.  Were they really expecting attack?  Should I have read the explanatory history display before we wandered through the farm?  Possibly…  I’m just not sure why the cannon is even there in such an ineffectual place.

I’m also not sure what my pose is about here.  Am I looking for people to shoot cannonballs at?  Trying to spot the sea through the swarms of tourists?  Who knows.  While we’re here, bonus points to the guy dithering in the background there.  If you’re going to ruin my shot, at least do it in a place where I can crop you out.

It was such fun to go on an adventure again, although I feel a bit rusty.  Clearly, this is a sign that we need to do it more often, if only so I can work on my silly poses.