The Bavarian Hut - Snippets and clues

We learnt that the previous couple were born in Bavaria and that they named the property, The Bavarian Hut with large white letters on a timber frame at the entrance. They bought the property formerly a tea house and continued to serve tea and scones while she seemed to live for her painting.  Eerily, evidence of this was everywhere and brightly coloured child like paintings filled the rooms.  Once I had removed the masses of oil paintings together with a macabre life size rag doll complete with adult clothing, I felt I may have the strength to complete the enormous tidy up.  Maybe I had been watching too much television on renovation projects!

I asked neighbours if there was anyone who may like the paintings because it was apparent that the two adult sons were going to leave most of the items. One lived in Germany and the other in Northern New South Wales.  I had hoped that the place would be cleaned up even slightly before we took it over but the house remained neglected with the dirty dishes still left in the sink and chaos everywhere.  Unemptied suitcases and boxes stood while we tried to grasp and prioritise our steps before starting to renovate.  Eventually I put the paintings in a pile in the garage hoping that someone from her family or one of her friends would claim them. It seemed very sad to me that no one wanted them...

My thoughts jumped to South Africa where I visited after my own mother died and left behind her personal possesions.  I remembered the nostalgia I felt when carefully touching my mother's hand embroided cloths.  She had sewn most of them in East Africa where she sat in the heat with a wet handkerchief in her hands working the fine thread expertly.  Each flower was delicately woven and worked seamlessly.  The difference was that both my brother and I wanted the cloths that reminded us of her although I knew that both of us may not ever actually use them and they would be put away carefully in a chest or at the back of a cupboard.

Going through a heavily painted sideboard, I was shocked to find a death certificate of the previous owner and later I found out that he had died suddenly in a road accident in which no one else was involved.  Apparently he had a heart attack and left his wife living alone at the Bavarian Hut.  She lived there apparently on her own for months until her neighbours were able to stay with her for short periods of time.

Brisbane-a world away from the Bavarian Hut

Back in Brisbane, our thoughts constantly returned to the Bavarian Hut and we wasted no time in seeing our bank manager before heading up to Lower Beechmont again.  Days later our offer was accepted while we tried to explain to our daughters our motivation.  Gen, our eldest, became pensive and puzzled as she realized how determined her parents were and despite reassuring her that we were doing the right thing, she remained unconvinced.  Nat was encouraging but worried that we were taking on too much.  I knew we were too, but it was as if we were unable to stop the powerful set of motions that was now in place.

Our Tibetan Spaniels, Jessie and Bruno patiently waited while we continued to travel up every weekend.  Skips were ordered and filled, then reordered and filled again.  I did not admit to many people how overwhelmed I felt because the more stuff I sorted and threw out, the bigger the pile seemed to grow. I found a double cupboard filled with plastic bags and as I threw them out I saw at the bottom a rats nest complete with dead rat.  Grimacing I had to walk away - the stench was appalling.  I knew that once the tradespeople arrived, I would have to live at the Bavarian Hut while Bruce joined me every weekend.

I did not revel in this idea.  Leaving my beautiful three story home with my dogs, husband and daughters.  How would I cope with living in squalor with holes in the walls and the neglected lifestyle of the previous owners. Somehow although the paperwork showed that we had bought all three houses, outbuildings, land and all the contents of the houses, I felt like an unwelcome visitor.  Strange to have the consent to go through other peoples personal possesions.  Didn't they want any of it?  Weren't their children wanting a part of their parents history?

Backbreak Shed and outbuildings

Leaving the Hillton behind us, we stepped carefully past the overgrown garden.  Pausing in front of a door which was labelled Backbreak Shed gave us insight into the previous owners lives.  Inside cobwebs covered masses of tools which had been hung all along the walls.  Shelves contained interesting glass bottles and plastic containers filled with screws, nuts and bolts. 

Bruce's eyes widened as he looked around numerous old farm implements covered with dust which sat alongside expensive looking new boxes, waiting for him to discover.

Above us hung work boots and aprons, as if all the equipment was waiting for the return of the owners.  Outside we lost track of all that was included in the sale of this property. We counted a caravan, two boats, two tractors and numerous valuable farm implements which at this stage I was not able to identify their uses.

Gnomes, birds, and other stone figures dotted the garden.  I was able to identify many rambling hibiscus and azalea plants and was exhilarated to hear that everything thrived up here on the mountain.  The rich volcanic soil waited for me ...

The Hillton

  Charmed by the cottage, we chatted about the last residence we were about to enter - incongruously named The Hillton.  The little red house stood alone with views across the mountains to Mt Warning.  The worn deck gave way to the front door which opened to an open plan lounge cum bedroom with the tiniest bathroom I had ever seen.

On its panelled walls hung two old oil paintings in heavy gold frames.  The man and woman looked unhappy to see us with downward curves of their mouths showing displeasure. 

We learnt that this building had once been a real estate agency and after that a video shop which the previous owner had managed.  He was a real estate agent who sold land in the area.

I wondered about the empty twin beds lying alongside each other seemingly waiting for visitors.  Someone had tried to make this a cosy home with flowered drapes and lace curtains hanging from timber rods.  Dusty dried flowers sitting on a mantelpiece completed the picture.  An air of expectancy seem to hang in the air and I wondered again about its occupants.  What would this house tell me of its story...