Not long after we left Toora and took over our second farm which had more acreage, we agreed that we had enough land to graze cattle, sheep, and chickens, as well as space to indulge ourselves in cultivating a large garden.
Jan, my veterinarian husband, worked for three days a week in a clinic in Frankston, and left me to tend our stock, teach music, and convert the home paddock into a garden. I began by mowing, on my ride-on, a big sweeping oval path around what was to be our orchard.
Jan had been trying to source an Angus bull. Before he left for Frankston, he told me that an old bloke from a nearby farm may call in to discuss prices with him but to tell the man that my husband would call him when he comes home later in the week.
Two days later, when I was mowing the new garden, I saw an old man who was wearing a worn-out army trench coat and hat standing by a large gum tree at the end of the garden. I turned off the ride-on and called out to him that Jan would contact him when he gets back from work. The old man stood still. Angrily, I walked towards him but he disappeared. I grumbled on my way back to the mower, presuming that he had crossed over the wire fence and gone home.
I finished my work, and as I approached the exit gate, I saw the old man entering our hay-shed. I was really annoyed this time.
‘Hey! You can’t just wander at will on our land. Our dogs will have a go at you.’
Again, he didn’t reply but simply disappeared into the shed. I looked in the shed but no one was there. ‘Weirdo.’
A few days later I was telling our neighbouring farmer about the old man in army coat and hat and how he had just disappeared. I noticed a tear in his eyes.
‘That was my dad. We used to live in that old cottage at the back of your farm when dad got back from the war. He was so proud when he built that old shed over there. He always walked his land every afternoon to check fences and stock, and he wore his old army coat and hat ‘till the day he died.’
I’m not one for company, but after that incident, if I was working in the garden in the late afternoon, I’d call out to our unseen visitor that he was welcome to walk our land. Bless him.
