Bunting for our wild man

On our first day in Bega, just over 2 years ago, Olive and I did all the normal things you do after you move to a new town where you don't know anyone. We visited our land, we visited the op shops, and we visited the local food co-op. At the co-op, we got chatting to a lovely and friendly chap who has, in the ensuing 2 years, come to occupy an important place in our lives. 

He was absolutely instrumental in helping us finish our house so we could move in (if you want to read about these adventures, check out pretty much any post from May, June or July last year). He supplies us with firewood (in exchange for an extended loan of my dad's chainsaw). He regularly joins us for dinner, brings us rabbits, gives excellent hugs, and is generally adored by all members of our family. And, if that's all not enough, Rohan Anderson referred to him as our "geologist turned wild man, Brett". Love it.

Brett, Oscar, some strawbales and a big pile of clay mud, circa June 2012. Photo by Olive

Last Christmas, I gave Brett some bunting for his caravan, which he said reminded him of "the goofy greeting smile of a magical monster with unequal and colourful teeth".

When Brett recently built his most excellent composting dunny/glasshouse/seed-raising shed (aka the Turd Temple), it was just crying out for some monster teeth to complete the forth face.

Brett's Turd Temple in all its grinning glory

And so it was with a great deal of pleasure that I sewed up some more teeth bunting for our friend Brett, our first friend in the Valley.

Bunting cradles the view north to Mt Murrabrine and Brett's fancy new water tank.