Isabella and The Staircase Gallery.

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Isabella and The Staircase Gallery.

Isabella was a fan of photography. She had purchased some pieces from a couple of local artists and had strategically placed them in her staircase gallery. For hours, Isabella would perch on the stairs admiring the images. Sometimes, she would take her journal and write about how the images made her feel, about the ‘story’ behind the images, their composition, the light, the dark, the shadows. Once, Isabella decided to do her journal-ling after a few too many wines. Unfortunately staircases and inebriation do not mix. Isabella again learned this valuable lesson when her right Achilles heal was sliced open by the sharp edge of every step in her staircase gallery.

Isabella and The Grape Vine.

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Isabella and The Grape Vine.

Isabella knew that the freezing winter meant more red wine than any other beverage would be consumed in her household. It was the warming nature of shiraz, merlot, petit verdot or cab sav that allowed Isabella to do anything at all during this season. As human anti-freeze, these red wines made for many colourful [sometimes naked] dancing in front of the open fire. Each glass brought with it another opportunity to defrost. Each bottle brought the courage required to collect more wood from the diminishing pile of aged ironbark located outside. Each case brought the cardboard required to start the next day’s logs. Nothing was wasted and everything had its role. God bless red wine in winter.

Isabella and The Pallet Garden.

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Isabella and The Pallet Garden.

It was another day in paradise and Isabella decided to tick off the first thing on her ‘must-do’ list attached to the refrigerator. She had been collecting non-treated pine pallets from the tip for 2 years now and today was the day she was going to turn one into her veggie patch. Isabella chose plants that could withstand the imminent frosts. Lettuce, leeks, silver beet and spring onions made the cut – all of which Isabella used extensively in the kitchen. Three hours later, Isabella was finished, exhausted and dying for a coldie. Luckily she had the foresight to put a couple of pale ales on ice at breakfast, alongside the quintessential bottle of Champagne. What a great day. What an even better evening.

Isabella and The Hoon Identity Crisis.

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Isabella and The Hoon Identity Crisis.

Isabella liked to think of herself as a bit of a hoon when it came to driving. Her hoon identity crisis stemmed from the fact that she drove a 6 cylinder Ford 4 x 4 Ute with a wooden tray. Truth be known Isabella very rarely reached the speed limit and the radio was always tuned to the AM station her father listened to when she was a child. Simon and Garfunkel often featured on the ute’s stereo and was only turned off when collecting wine at the local drive through. Isabella could not risk her hoon status by playing and singing loudly to Scarborough Fair. Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme.

Isabella and The Pile of Dirty Washing in the Laundry.

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Isabella and The Pile of Dirty Washing in the Laundry.

There was no denying it. The rain was no where to be seen and Isabella had no more excuses for the large pile of dirty washing in the laundry. She had never seen the sky so blue, the sun so warm, the air so clean. Isabella had laundry to do and there was nothing that would stop her. In an instant, Isabella stood back, took a deep breath and thought, “The sky is blue. The sun is warm. The air is clean. ” There began the procurement of fresh Australian king prawns, a perfectly ripe avocado and a bottle of chilled local white wine. With Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds playing, good food and great wine, Isabella believed herself to be the happiest she had been in ages. Thank God she had decided to stuff the laundry today. She may have to do the same tomorrow.

Isabella and the International Fruit Pickers.

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Isabella and the International Fruit Pickers.

Isabella spoke many languages – the language of love, the language of food, the language of wine. Luckily for Isabella, these languages are commonplace amongst the non-English speaking backpackers who frequented the Granite Belt every picking season. After a few awkward ‘oui ouis,’ Isabella broke out her picnic basket, cranked open the wine and shared the regions harvest with her new friends. It was lovely until the moment was interrupted abruptly by the farmer. In the confusion of meeting new people, Isabella had forgotten that the fruit had to be picked BEFORE they could celebrate the harvest. Lesson learned.

Isabella and The Happy Hours.

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Isabella and The Happy Hours.

The day was over and the only thing to do was drink some wine. I say some because this was in fact the third bottle of the afternoon. Having somewhat of a drinking issue, at least Isabella chose the best wine to share amongst friends. All that was left to do was to serve up the baguettes she made earlier with a lovely ripe blue cheese. Oh yeah – life is tough on the Granite Belt.

Isabella and the Feast at Happy Hour.

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Isabella and the Feast at Happy Hour.

The restaurant had barely opened its doors (5.45pm) and already Isabella had ordered her entree, main and dessert. Waiting for her wine order she realised that she enjoyed eating at a time best befitting a seniors happy hour. She wondered if there was a happy hour discount. Ha ha – those fools who eat at normal hours had nothing on her ‘eat like an old person’ scheme. And yes, tap water would be fine – another ‘bottled water scam’ averted.