August 29, 2007

11 February 1807, by Elizabeth Macarthur

These flowers grow profusely near our home

At the Ball, Mr. Marsden informed us of a marriage Mr. Fulton celebrated that day, where the combined age of the couple was 80 years, and the bride was just 19: love works wonders every day! I wish them every happiness, here where so few couples are regularly married.
We are at home, feeling rather bereft. Of course, people leave the Colony all the time, sometimes friends, but on this occasion good friends are gone, perhaps forever.
Nevertheless, our life goes on. The sheep we bought are being moved to the farm at Seven Hills and Mr. Macarthur and Hannibal are leaving today for the cow pastures, to supervise the operation there. They are taking two of the natives who live near Prospect hill, who John has been training to ride horses and round up cattle - they seem particularly suited to the trade and comfortable in boots and leggings. I have made offers in the past for young native women to join our household, but experience has shown that after a day or so, they wish to return to the family and friends. I would too!
We are eating grapes until we can eat no more, and Theos has suggested we start converting this harvest to wine.
My letters are all written and on their way; this diary is proving useful, a refuge each day to record some of my feelings and the events, and there is plenty to do on the farm, as well as looking after the children. And yet I'm feeling rather useless - I hope this will pass.

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