High Country Homestead with Susan H Shaw
Well… this one was supposed to be published yesterday!
Somehow, despite my best intentions, the days have completely run away from me. Life here on the homestead has been wonderfully busy, the kind of busy where you finish one job, turn around, and there are three more waiting patiently (or impatiently!) for your attention.
As the weather slowly warms and the ground begins to dry out, the maintenance list has exploded. There have been fencing repairs, quad bike repairs, trying to track down spare parts for our ageing woodstove, and an endless amount of mowing. Add in my writing projects, YouTube commitments, and the usual daily rhythm of keeping everything running here, and my calendar has been rather full.
And looking ahead, the next fortnight doesn’t appear to be slowing down either!
But amongst all the jobs, repairs, and dirty boots, there are always stories waiting to be told. Sometimes they are the big adventures, and sometimes they are the small battles that happen quietly in the background, like the ongoing war taking place in my paddocks.
So, my next story for you is a tale of stubborn weeds, changing seasons, and the never-ending challenge of keeping on top of the land we care for.
I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed putting it together.
Thank you, as always, for being here and sharing this journey with me.
Winter was interesting in the high country. While it certainly was cold, it didn’t follow the pattern of a traditional high country winter. The deep freezes and harsh conditions that usually slow everything down were less severe, and the milder conditions encouraged many plants to get ahead of themselves.
Instead of everything sitting quietly waiting for spring, many plants were eagerly showing signs of life. Budding, flowering, germinating, and generally taking advantage of the kinder conditions.
Normally at this time of year, thistles are not something I spend a lot of time worrying about. There are usually very few to be seen across the paddocks. Winter generally gives me a brief reprieve from the ongoing encounters, a chance to think I might actually be getting ahead.
But this wasn’t a normal year.
Even during winter, I could already see signs that the thistles had taken advantage of the conditions. They appeared earlier than expected, and instead of waiting for the usual spring surge, they were quietly preparing for another crusade.
The paddock was already telling me what lay ahead.
The thistles were sharpening their armour, the plants were getting established, and I suspected I was going to have a conflict on my hands well before I would normally expect it. And I was right.
Thistles don’t “try their luck.” Thistles arrive with a business plan.
In my paddocks, the main offenders are the Scotch thistle and the variegated thistle. They are impressive plants in the way that a fox is an impressive visitor to a hen house… you can admire their determination while still wishing they would take their talents somewhere else.
The Scotch thistle has that classic thistle attitude: tall, proud, and armed to the teeth. It stands there looking like it has been dressed for combat, daring anyone to come closer. The variegated thistle is a little different. It has beautiful markings on its leaves, almost as if nature decided to decorate the enemy before sending it in.
And those leaves are where the real trouble begins.
The waxy coating on the leaves is like the thistle wearing a raincoat. Water beads off it, and some treatments struggle to get through. It is the sort of plant that seems to look at your carefully planned weed control efforts and say, “Is that all you’ve got?”
Managing thistles isn’t a once-a-year job. It’s an ongoing campaign. You knock them back, they regroup. You think you have won, then a few days later there is another one standing proudly in the paddock waving its spiky leaves like it has been promoted.
Controlling them involves keeping an eye on the paddocks, understanding when the plants are most vulnerable, and choosing the right approach for the situation. Sometimes that means physical removal. Sometimes it means improving pasture competition so there is less room for weeds to establish. Sometimes, where appropriate and carefully managed, it means using herbicides.
Chemical control is one of those topics that can quickly become heated. Some people are strongly against spraying, and it is important to respect those concerns. Nobody wants unnecessary chemicals in the environment, and responsible land management means thinking about the bigger picture: soil health, waterways, livestock, wildlife, and the long-term condition of the farm.
At the same time, farming and land care often involve making practical decisions with imperfect options. A paddock covered in invasive weeds is not healthy either. The challenge is finding the right balance: using the tools available responsibly, following instructions, avoiding unnecessary applications, and looking after the land we depend on.
The funny thing about thistles is that they have a certain stubborn personality. You almost have to admire their persistence. They survive drought, competition, neglect, and plenty of human frustration.
Our paddocks are living systems, and managing them is about patience. There is no magic wand. No single victory that ends the war forever. It is a matter of observing, learning, adapting, and occasionally walking back from the paddock muttering, “I swear that thistle wasn’t there yesterday.”
And so the battle continues. Our paddocks are always changing, and somewhere among the grass there will always be another determined little soldier waiting to make its presence known. All I can do is keep watching, keep learning, and try to make sure that when the thistles arrive with their next business plan, I am ready for the meeting.