Nestled on the edge of the Warby State Park, beneath the towering heights of Mt Bruno, lies Rockgrove. The small brick farmhouse was built around the turn of the last century. The property contains several paddocks, and an orchard of established fruit trees, mainly citrus, but also apples, pears, apricots, peaches, figs, quinces, nashi pears, plums. In case there's not enough fruit, we've also planted about 30 or 40 more trees, including olives, guavas, tamarillo, hazelnuts, chestnuts. When the global economic meltdown finally explodes into Armageddon, we'll be survive on a steady diet of rabbit, oranges and, if things get really desperate, rat.


The farm cat, Tiger, is real the owner of Rockgrove, but he is happy to share with us, and our collection of chooks, dogs and horses, as well as the thriving populations of rats, mice, frogs, bats, millipedes, rabbits, locusts, eagles, white ant, foxes, lizards and snakes (which, although we haven't seen any yet, we must assume to be present).

Here is our journey (viewers be warned this does involve my parents wearing matching overalls).

There is food to be grown, harvested, made, cooked and above all else and what a Trumble must consider to be the answer to all problems, the centre of life itself food to be eaten.