Todd Alexander - Thirty thousand bottles of wine and a pig called Helga: a not-so-perfect tree change

Also by Todd Alexander

Tom Houghton

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THIRTY THOUSAND BOTTLES OF WINE AND A PIG CALLED HELGA: A NOT-SO-PERFECT TREE CHANGE

First published in Australia in 2019 by

Simon & Schuster (Australia) Pty Limited

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Todd Alexander 2019

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For Mel and Jesus (no, not that Jesus)

Never be afraid to laugh at yourself. After all, you could be missing out on the joke of the century. Dame Edna Everage

April, 2018

A s we trudged up to the vineyard, I wiped sweat out of my eyes. It had been the hottest April on record and even though it was late afternoon it was ridiculously warm. The sky overhead was a blue so crisp youd swear we were still in summer.

The vines were nearly at the end of their growing season. The grapes had been harvested weeks ago and the branches were clinging onto the last of their leaves to store precious energy before winter arrived. They wouldnt normally require watering in April but they were confused with the unseasonal heat, continuing to burst into spring-like greenery. Without a cloud in the sky and wide cracks showing in our clay land, it had seemed a great idea to water them while I spent a few hours mowing the dying grass between the rows but I forgot to turn the water off afterwards so back I went. The irrigation had become manual since the kangaroos kicked out the wiring for the automated system, which we couldnt afford to replace.

Never do one job at a time , Id reminded myself, so I had company: the animals needed some exercise.

I ran as fast as I could past the villas and the house because it was the only way to keep my posse by my side. If I didnt distract them like this at the start they had a tendency to stray, and our paying guests would be likely to find an inquisitive hairy face peering in at their villa windows, or worse: an uninvited guest on their couch if theyd left a door open. Winston the goat is the worst culprit, and once Helga the pig reached adolescence she started to display a mind of her own, too. (Wesley, our youngest goat, is more or less a perfect angel.)

Once clear of the danger zone, I slackened to a walk and we slowly climbed the hill.

If youd said to me ten years ago that one day Id be taking two goats and a hefty, headstrong sow for a walk, I would have told you to stop smoking crack.

*

In the distance I could hear the rasp of Jeffs dropsaw. The wine room on the edge of the dam was coming together nicely. The floor and walls were in place; the roof was on but the windows and doors were only empty spaces. Until we could afford to install them, we promoted it as Enjoy an al fresco wine-tasting overlooking our vast lake . I took a photo of its progress and hoped we could have it finished by the end of winter when my job as part-time labourer would finally come to an end (and without a single argument on site, mind you after thirteen years together I rarely question Jeffs wisdom... out loud).

I trekked on with my hairy companions. After ten minutes or so we reached the centre of the vineyard and the water taps. As I made my way from tap to tap, Helga ran off to explore. Winston and Wesley couldnt believe their luck that fresh green leaves were there for the taking, as many as their barrel guts could fit in. Theyre not usually allowed there for this very reason but I didnt mind them nibbling a few so close to the vines becoming dormant. As I turned off the third and final tap I felt a sprinkle on my arm and it was only then that I looked up and saw, off in the distance, a clump of dark clouds. Theyd descended from nowhere and were beginning to fill the sky in the west, but its rare we ever get rain on our property so I was confident the brewing storm would pass us by.

Tap job done, we made our way down to the dam to inspect Jeffs handiwork. Winston and Wesley leaned out from the deck to munch on water reeds; Helga had found the carcass of a snake and was chomping on the bones in its tail. My brother Glen is always quick to remind me that a pig will eat you whole and only leave your dentures behind, but Im the kind of farmer who believes his children are faultless and would save my life given half the chance.

Youve done heaps today, I said to Jeff, wishing Id thought to bring us some beers.

I didnt get to do the strapping of the roof yet, but its the first thing Ill do in the morning, he said, but to me it hardly seemed important enough to mention.

The rain went from sprinkle to heavier droplets and since it isnt Wesley and Winstons favourite thing in the world, they took shelter with us in the rudimentary wine room. Seconds later those heavy black clouds opened, releasing bucketloads of rain and hail, then the wind whipped up, blowing it in through the gaps. As the rain pelted down against the aluminium roof Jeff and I built with our bare hands, Helga galloped up the steps and the five of us moved further inside. The wind was stronger than Id ever felt before the rain was being swept in horizontally and, even six metres in where we were cowering against the back wall, we were getting soaked. The rain and cloud was so thick we could no longer see the dam just ten metres away. The animals were scared, edgy. Jeff and I couldnt believe how quickly things had turned.

Woo-hoo! I screamed, always partial to a little drama.

Where the hell did this come from? Jeff shouted over the ferocious noise.

Thank god we got the roof on! I yelled back.

At my words, there was an almighty gust and the six-metre-square roof peeled back like a Band-Aid and simply disappeared.

What the fuck? Jeff and I exchanged incredulous looks but we were too shocked to speak. Thunder crashed overhead. Lightning forked. The deafening sound was too much for Helga and she bolted toward the bush, disappearing into the grey blur of wind and rain.

Id better go find her! I screamed at Jeff. You stay with the boys!

I ran out and immediately went from wet to drenched and I dont mean that in a sexy Mr Darcy kind of way; more like a fallen loser on Australian Ninja Warrior . All I could think was Helga will be lost to me forever; I must find my little piggy! I charged toward the bush. The trees were blowing at ridiculous angles; lightning illuminated the greyness and splinters of electricity struck dangerously close to struggling tree limbs.

Helga! Helga! I yelled desperately into the chaos.

I heard a faint sound and turned around. Winston had come running after me and, some metres behind, a very wet, very unhappy and very scared Wesley followed. I waited for them to catch up to me and reassured them as best I could.

Helga! I yelled again, but who was I kidding? I could barely hear my own voice and she was nowhere to be seen.

I decided to get the boys out of harms way. It made no sense to put all three of their lives in danger. I ran them back to their pen, all the while keeping my eyes desperately peeled for little Helga, frantically calling her name, my heart breaking at the thought of her being lost and terrified.