In the summertime when the weather is fine

The initial idea of this blog came from some inspiration from Inside History magazine, a gentle shove from an aunt, my great love and enthusiasm for all things genealogy and family history and the fascination I get from wading through old family photos. So the latter paired with my great love of the summer season and all it brings has led me to the inevitable – sharing family stories, myths and legends along with some sepia toned photos of family members past and present.

All Victorian’s will know that summer has already hit us before the official turning of the season. Yes, it seems it is going to be one mighty hot (and humid) summer for Victorians. So, this is a great introduction into this week’s post; warm days and summers spent with family and friends on beaches, farms and tropical far off places.

I have been extremely lucky to be able to spend summers by the seaside, running into crashing waves, squelching sand between my toes and lapping up my fair share of Vitamin D. And it seems that my ancestors have had the same inclination.

Barwon Heads

Above: Erica Russell (at left) with friends at Barwon Heads c. 1920s.

My great grandparents lived an affluent life being descendants of the Victorian ‘Squattocracy’. They lived and ran the property ‘Wurrook’, which was a part of the ‘Barunah Plains’ dynasty. Their affluence led to Eric, my great grandfather to retire early in his life, sell the farm and move to their holiday home in Barwon Heads, which they also named ‘Wurrook’. This large home on Flinders Parade, a few footsteps from the beach was the background for all summers for my great grandparents, grandmother and my father and his siblings. My grandmother Erica would ride her horses along the beach when she was growing up; my father, his brother and sister would spend days on end over their Christmas holidays swimming in the ocean and making sandcastles, just a stones’ throw from watchful eyes of their grandmother.

Above: Eric Russell and Erica Wilkens with Kathrine & Andrew, Barwon Heads c. 1964.

 

 

 

Anglesea & Torquay

 

About 40kms down the road my mother and her family would spend hot days on the beach at Anglesea. By the 1960s my great grandmother Laura Taylor had two grown sons and several grandchildren. In the late-60s Laura bought a small house in Camp Road, Anglesea where she and her family would spend weekends, holidays and summers. There are many happy, colourful (and very 70s inspired outfits) of their days gallivanting in the salt waters of Anglesea as well as Torquay.

 Above: Judy Taylor with Anthea & Mandy, Anglesea c. 1969.

Left: Lionel Taylor with baby Mandy on the beach c. 1961. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Java, Indonesia (formerly the Dutch East Indies)

My grandfather was born and raised in the Dutch East Indies, dark haired and olive skinned (passed down to some of his grandchildren, including me). His days were passed in the heat and humidity which was part and parcel of living in the tropics. Photos of sunny days show Hank and his brother Lou climbing trees and holding monkeys. Hank’s move to Australia (I will touch on this in upcoming blogs with new information just coming to hand) would have seen a different kind of heat. The dry heat that he would not have been used to in Indonesia or the Netherlands. His summer’s once in Australia would have been spent on the farm and at Barwon Heads with his children.

 

 

 

Above: Helena Wilkens with sons Hendrik & Louis,

Java, Dutch East Indies, 1920s.

 

Preparedness   

 

Preparation for the summer season isn’t all about having the right pair of bathers or having enough sunscreen, for many Australians and bush-dwellers in particular, summer brings the scary prospect of bushfires. Victoria saw the devastation of the Ash Wednesday fires in February 1983 and the Black Saturday fires in January 2009, but one summer that my father and his family will always remember but like to forget is January 1969. The Lara bushfires ripped through the township on 8 January 1969, properties, livestock, homes and livelihoods were lost in the face of a wall of fire. They had to face

evacuations and destruction in the wake of fierce northerly winds and soaring summer temperatures. They were lucky to walk away unscathed, but had lost a lot in the wake of the ferocious fire storm that ripped through the scorched land.

My ancestors may have instilled a love and history to summers spent on the beach, but they have also infused awareness for bushfire season and safety.

Left: Rick, Kathrine & Andrew Wilkens on the beach at
Barwon Heads shortly after the Lara bushfires, February 1969.

 

 

 

 

 

So, enjoy your summers, stay safe and cool in the impending heat and have a fire plan.

Phoebe

Traditions

Looking for inspiration for my next blog post, I got to thinking about traditions. Traditions are events, elements of culture, beliefs and customs which are passed down through generations. Traditions, I suppose can go hand-in-hand with genealogy (or just this genealogist). Learning about the customs which your ancestors shared with other generations; who made the Christmas pudding every year (grandma)? How did that painting come to hang on our wall? Why do we have so many ribbons and photographs of showing sheep at the local show? The latter may not be a question posed by many people, but is definitely prevalent in our family.

It’s not just these shows which feature heavily throughout my ancestry, but livestock and sheep in particular. Both sides of the family tree have strong connections with sheep, and today, it is still a part of my family. Whether it be topping the markets in the wool sales for my Russell ancestors of Barunah Plains or Wurrook, and frequenting the local news of the time, detailing as much; or making a living through the sheep markets, which the Rutherford family would inevitably have done to help to amass their wealth and prominence.

 

 

 

 

 

Above: The Argus (Melbourne), 20 August 1927.

Right: The Argus (Melbourne) 18 November 1932

My maternal great grandfather was a sheep shearer by profession, travelling the country and living on the road going from one sheep shed to the next to make ends meet. Rumour has it that this side of the family was also one of the first to import merinos to Australia (a fact I am yet to verify). My sister and I were propositioned one school holidays to shovel sheep poo for a hefty (at the time) wage. We quickly tired of this and ate our whole days’ food within 2 hours of being left at the wool shed and were ready to retire from our shovelling duties soon after.

However, it was whilst I was moving the (precious/precarious) sheep into the shelter of the shed to prepare them for the upcoming Royal Geelong Show which got me thinking about our years showing sheep. We will be showing the finest of our flock of Ryland Merino’s at the local show, which is where I will be late next week (trusty assistant to my father). Why does he do it? Well, it’s tradition. Once a thing of great prestige, Dad would often frequent the rural shows with his own parents, who both showed and judged throughout the 1960s, 70s and 80s. Now, he is often one of the few showing in the Ryland category, and if he does win the prestige of a trophy and/or ribbon, it is usually adorned with his own name as he provides the prize under the ‘Malung Ryland’ banner.

 

Above: Erica & Hank Wilkens (at right) with their winning sheep at the Royal Melbourne Show 1962.

 

 

 

Left: Andrew Wilkens at the Baccus Marsh Show, circa. 1972.

Below: Erica Wilkens, 1969.

We have copious amounts of black and white photos of grubby men and women, (actually, more often than not dressed in their Sunday-best), holding a robust ram in front of the critical eye of the judges. This year, I will be one of those grubby women (much to the pride of my father), holding the tempestuous rams (I am quite convinced they hate me as they stamp their feet and butt their heads in my direction as I try to coax them into shelter for the night). It’s a tradition, I didn’t realise that was odd, because as traditions go, well, they’re traditional and just something you are used to. However, the more people I tell, the more they look at me with a puzzled look asking why we do it. It’s a tradition; just something that we’ve always done.

 Above: Starting them young. Phoebe & Andrew Wilkens at the Royal Geelong Show 1988.

So, wish us luck for the show next week, and let the tradition continue on.

 

Phoebe.

Wurrook featured in 'Country Style' Magazine in Winter this year. For the article see this link. 

Newspaper articles were sourced from Trove.