The Doctors suggested that we take a drive out to Kapunda to experience the Anlaby Spring Festival. It was a beautiful, sunny Sunday afternoon and well worth the drive.

Anlaby Station, established way back in 1839, is South Australia’s oldest merino stud and widely considered to be one of the state’s finest heritage properties.

Today’s flock of Merinos is directly descended from a small flock of sheep Frederick Dutton herded all the way from New South Wales to Kapunda. Think of it as Lonesome Dove except in Australia instead of Texas, and with sheep instead of cattle. Sheep take very small steps, so the marathon drive took six months.

Dutton started with a grazing lease on a mere 120 acres along the Light River, but within 30 years he had built an empire that covered 100 square miles of land and numbered more than 60,000 sheep. The vast, nearly unimaginable wealth created from all that soft Merino wool allowed Dutton to build Anlaby into one of the most legendary South Australian properties of the Victorian and Edwardian eras.

As the decades passed, the station changed hands over and over again. Eventually, the land was sold off piece by piece and the buildings were allowed to deteriorate. Finally, not too many years ago, new owners took over and dedicated themselves to rebuilding the glory of the past. They’re also acquiring adjacent properties that were once part of the huge station.

The homestead, originally built in 1861, sits within 10 acres of immaculate Edwardian gardens. It is flanked by a series of beautiful outbuildings including stables, workers cottages and sheds. It feels a bit like a small English village because it was located in the middle of nowhere and had to be fully self-sufficient. In addition to fully-restoring the Homestead, the current owners have worked similar magic with the Coachman’s Cottage, the Head Gardener’s Cottage, the Manor House, the Clydesdale Pavilion, the Peacock Aviary, the Old Conservatory, tennis courts, blacksmith shop, and of course, those Gardens.

I don’t know who I admire more — pioneers like Dutton who had the brains and guts and strength to build something out of nothing, or the current owners who have invested a small fortune to bring it back to what is once was. Flip a coin. I’ll take either side.

Here’s what Anlaby Station looked like back in the 1860s.

Here’s what the restored Homestead looks like today.

Here’s the Homestead and the Main Terrace.

And as seen from the grass tennis court.

Two beauties: the Manor House and Jamie.

Jamie learning about Clydesdale horses from a very proud stable master. Look at the pride on his face in the second photo.

The head gardener’s cottage, built back in the 1850s, is now at pricey bed and breakfast.

Entertainment at the Spring Festival. It wasn’t all this classy, though. Down at one end of the tennis court, some guy was singing sappy songs from the ’70s and ’80s.

If it weren’t for the eucalyptus trees and other Australian natives, it would feel like you were strolling through an English garden.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course, you can’t maintain ten acres of gardens without an extensive complex of greenhouses and ”starter” gardens.

 

 

 

 

And, finally, all this opulence was funded by the soft wool shorn from flocks of Merino sheep. Huge flocks of Merino sheep.

 

 

 

There’s a beautiful little family-owned winery out on Gomersal Road. It’s called Pindarie and it sits on a slight hill and offers a magnificent view of the western edge of the Barossa Valley.

Pindarie serves a delicious Aussie lunch. Jamie usually orders a chickpea pie and I get one that’s filled with chicken and lemon. Patch, the winery dog, wanders purposefully from table to table in search of scraps and scratches. The winery also hosts occasional sunset dinners on warm summer evenings. There’s nothing better than dining on the wide veranda as warm breezes waft across the property.

That’s the good news. The bad news is that Pindarie constantly sent me promotional emails while we were locked out of the country for the last two years. Covid or not, Pindarie moved on. Every time they sent me one of these emails I replied with an email that said, ”You’re killin’ me. My mouth starts watering every time I hear from you.”

We finally had a warm, sunny day so Jamie and I headed there for lunch. As soon as we walked in the front door, the friendly woman who runs the kitchen came out to the front desk. Her face lit up. ”You’re back,” she exclaimed. ”You’re finally back.”

It’s very early Spring here in the Barossa so everything is green and fresh but that will soon change. When summer arrives the entire Barossa Valley transforms into a Southern Hemisphere doppelgänger for our former home in San Luis Obispo.

Now let’s revisit the headline on this story: ”No ifs or ands, but a couple of cute butts.” We were lunching at Pindarie one day several years ago and two sets of parents were seated at the next table. While they dined, their two young boys romped around the lawn in front of the restaurant.

”Hey, mum!” one hollered. ”Hey, dad!” the other one cried. As soon as the got their parents’ attention they both turned and dropped trow. And, luckily, it happened just as Jamie snapped off a photo of the two cheeky little tykes. It’s one of her all-time favorite photos.

We congratulate these parents. It’s good to see that they have done such an excellent job of passing on the important Aussie traditions.

Our American friends wonder about our love for the Barossa Valley. Why, they ask, do you go back so often? Why do you stay so long? What’s so special about it?

Truth is, it’s hard to pick just one reason we love it so much. The people, the weather, the food, the wine, the atmosphere, and, of course, the fact that it’s just so damn beautiful. Turn any corner, find yourself face to face with a real life picture postcard. A very colorful picture postcard. A riot of color, if you will.

Here are a few of them.

Let’s start with the green of the vineyards and the crisp, clear blue skies.

And the yellow of the canola fields.

The purple of the lavender fields (or maybe that should be ”the lavender of the lavender fields.”)

The reds and pinks of the sunrises.

The rainbow of colors in the sunsets.

The golden hour has never been any golder than it is in the Barossa.

And the golden fields of wheat are spectacular as well.

I know that when you read that headline you probably thought it was a story about me boarding a Japan Airlines flight. But, no, this is a story of sausage. You see, Aussies love their sausages. And as the following magazine article explains, even Aussie wildlife loves the tasty treats.

My Aussie friend Dr John once told me that he had never eaten a cheeseburger. I found that quite surprising, so a few nights later I took him out to dinner at a very nice local restaurant, one of the few places here in the Barossa that lists them on its menu. I ordered one for each of us.

John was visibly surprised when the waitress delivered our burgers to the table. He picked his up and carefully examined it closely from every angle.

Then he turned to me and said, “It has meat.”

“Of course, it has meat,” I responded quizzically. ”It’s a cheeseburger.”

“I didn’t know it would have meat,” he admitted, ”I always thought a cheeseburger was just a huge slab of cheese between two buns.”

But that was not the good doctor’s biggest surprise. The look on his face when he took his first bite was priceless. I really wish I’d had a camera to document the look of absolute ecstasy that spread across his face when that cheeseburger exploded across his tastebuds.

”Ooooh,” he cooed with delight. ”Let’s come back here with Jamie and Margaret so we can all have cheeseburgers.”

Instead of all-American cheeseburgers, Aussies love their sausages. If you’re invited to an outdoor barbecue you’ll undoubtedly be served a big ol’ pile of sausages. If you go to to a cricket or footy game at the Oval in Adelaide you’ll hail down a vendor to buy a sausage. Go out to dinner (or breakfast or lunch, for that matter) and odds are that sausages will be somewhere on the menu.

They like their sausages made of beef, sometimes pork, and grilled over a barbecue or a campfire or an ultra expensive Wolfe range or any other random source of heat. Then they tuck the juicy morsels into slices of bread and top ’em with mustard, onion strips, and sweet tomato sauce. Note that I said tomato sauce, not ketchup. Aussies view ketchup with disdain, and believe it is nothing more than an American gastronomic oddity.

According to a recent survey conducted by Taste.com.au, 67% of Aussies prefer beef sausages over the pork variety. 89% prefer sliced bread over hot dog buns. A similar percentage demand tomato sauce instead of mustard. And, finally, 82% think onions should be on top of the sausage, not underneath.

In other words, that too-fat-to-fly kookaburra is just another Aussie who loves his sausages to excess.

I’ve known for a long time how to check JimandJamie.com’s most popular stories of the day (based on how many times each story has been read), but I just found out how to manipulate those stats to rank the most popular JimandJamie.com stories of all time.

Here we go. Let’s run down the ten most popular JimandJamie.com stories of all-time ranked from number ten down to number one. (I don’t know about you, but I can’t read that sentence without hearing Casey Kasem’s voice.)

Number ten: This one is the biggest surprise. It ran only about ten days ago, so it hasn’t had had the benefit of time to accumulate ”reads.” Nevertheless, this story announcing the beginning of our current trip already ranks as the tenth most popular JimandJamie.com story. (CLICK ON THE STORY BELOW IF YOU WANT TO READ IT.)

Somewhere over the Pacific: Did I neglect to mention that we’re leaving for Australia today?

Number nine: This one is a bit surprising, too. Believe me, once you’ve seen the image, you will never be able to unsee it. (CLICK ON THE STORY BELOW IF YOU WANT TO READ IT.)

Ubud, Bali, Indonesia: Sexy bitch

Number eight: I knew this one collects page views on a regular basis, but I’ve never understood why, nor would I have guessed that it would rank in the top ten. (CLICK ON THE STORY BELOW IF YOU WANT TO READ IT.)

Adelaide, South Australia: Christmas Day 2017

Number seven: It warms my heart to know that this very personal remembrance gets read so frequently. It must be the result of Google searches for information about the hero of my teenage years. Apparently Huckleberry Chuck was a lot of people’s hero. (CLICK ON THE STORY BELOW IF YOU WANT TO READ IT.)

McKinney, Texas: Huckleberry Chuck signs off

Number six: Coober Pedy is a very small, very dusty town isolated out in the middle of the Aussie outback. Why do so many people click on it? (CLICK ON THE STORY BELOW IF YOU WANT TO READ IT.)

Coober Pedy, South Australia: Valley of the pyramids?

Number five: Another surprise. This rough and tumble pub on the edge of the Western Australian outback seems to be surprisingly popular. (CLICK ON THE STORY BELOW IF YOU WANT TO READ IT.)

Broad Arrow Tavern, Western Australia: “I live in the bush with my uncle. He’s a ‘roo shooter.”

Number four: Although the Barossa Valley is a very popular tourist destination, I don’t know why this story about a one-man sheep dog show should be read by so many people. (CLICK ON THE STORY BELOW IF YOU WANT TO READ IT.)

Angaston, South Australia: All sheep, no sheep dogs

Number three: Not surprising because I know it gets clicked on multiple times every day, but I don’t know why. A few years ago I did a story about its popularity and attributed it to people’s odd sexual proclivities. I cannot think of any other reason for its popularity. See more about that theory at the bottom of the list. (CLICK ON THE STORY BELOW IF YOU WANT TO READ IT.)

Vuyani Lodge, South Africa: “They will bite you on the balls!” UPDATE: Rex up-a-tree photo added

Number two: This one ranks near the top of each day’s most popular stories, but I cannot figure out why. Madeira is a small island a few hundred miles off the coast of Portugal, but we did lots of other stories about our experiences there and none of them rank this highly. So why do people read this particular story so often? (CLICK ON THE STORY BELOW IF YOU WANT TO READ IT.)

Funchal, Madeira: Toboganning down the hills of Madeira

Number one: Drum roll, please, because we have now reached the top of the chart on the JimandJamie.com hit parade. This story is often our most popular story and if it’s not number one it ranks in the top three. (CLICK ON THE STORY BELOW IF YOU WANT TO READ IT.)

Papeete, Tahiti: Quinn’s Bar and the trans-Pacific transvestites

The all-time Top Ten came in mostly as I would have expected from looking at the daily stats, but there were a few real surprises.

This is only my hair-brained theory: I’ve read that something like 90% of all internet traffic is the result of viewing pornography. If that’s true, it may explain the popularity of story numbers eight, three, and one. There is nothing pornographic about them, but misinterpreted headlines must have lead to some inaccurate Google search results. If you have any alternate theories, I’d love to hear them.

Footy — officially known as Australian Rules Football — looks like the bastard love child of ice hockey and ballet. Like a street fight between the Bloods and Crips. It’s as violent as a head on collision and as fast as a politician blaming someone else.

Footy players all dress in shorts and jerseys, so when the team lines up on the field it looks like a basketball team took the wrong door and wandered onto a football field by mistake. Padding and helmets are verboten, reserved for those cream puffs who play in the NFL. Australia may have become sissified in the last couple decades, but its footy players are still as tough as nails. Surely only a rookie can count his concussions and missing teeth on one hand.

Aussies call American football ”gridiron” and complain that it stops more often than rush hour traffic on the 405. Maybe so, but at least the pace of American football gives first time viewers like us time to ask ”What just happened?” and get a detailed answer before the next play. There’s no such luxury in footy because the action never stops. The players are required to have Usain Bolt’s speed and Kip Keino’s endurance. It has been estimated that a footy player runs almost nine miles in a single game.

After a 23-week season and two weeks of playoffs, the two surviving teams play each other in the Grand Final, footy’s version of the Super Bowl.

We watched yesterday’s Grand Final at the home of our friends Daryl and Lisa Mustard. The Sydney Swans played the Geelong Cats. The game was over almost as soon as it began because the Cats immediately began piling up an insurmountable lead. The final score: Geelong 133 – Sydney 52.

And then Daryl started cooking and all was well.

What goes up must come down. And that includes the sun. Our flight from Los Angeles arrived in the Land of the Rising Sun at 5:28 pm, just in time for sundown. 

A few years ago I wrote this blog item about my dad selling cow shit by the truckload and his near monopolistic control of San Bernardino’s manure business. He was a very, very smart man but as you are about to learn, he overlooked a few very interesting product extension possibilities.

Like this one.

I’ve had some girlfriends who’ve accused me of giving them shitty gifts on Valentine’s Day, but the people behind this company clearly believe there’s a market for shitty gifts.

In addition to cow shit, they offer several far more exotic options for sending fecal matter to that special someone in your life. Such as elephant crap and gorilla poop.

What a sweet premise this could be for a romcom.

I have always been a compulsive business-thinker-upper. It’s probably part of the obsessive-compulsive disorder that controls every other aspect of my life. One of those business ideas was to be called ”Endangered Feces™.”

Get it? Endangered Feces™. It sounds like endangered species.

The concept was that I would purchase the turds of endangered species from the Los Angeles Zoo, embed them in clear plastic cubes, and sell them as paperweights. A portion of every purchase would have been donated to the World Wildlife Fund. So, for example, if you had a particular interest in saving the gorillas you could contribute by purchasing a gorilla turd embedded in a plastic cube. Same with tigers and pandas and snow leopards. Your purchase would not only help save your favorite endangered species, but become a terrific conversation starter in your office.

(Elephant poop, I thought, would be problematic. It would require a very large hunk of plastic and you might need a couple burly friends or a small crane to help hoist it onto your desk.)

Of course, like most of my business ideas, I never got around to doing anything with it. But I still think it would be a great idea. If you have the time and money and inclination to pursue the idea, I hereby grant you permission to run with it.

But let’s get back to my dad for a moment. Think how much more profitable his manure business could have been if he had thought of selling individual cow pies for $17.95 each instead of selling a dump truck load for just $6. His profits would have risen exponentially.

Endangered Feces.

You missed a huge opportunity, dad.