Tanderra Corridales

26/12/2025

Some life experiences our soul is waiting for don’t disappear just because they don’t arrive when we expect them.
They wait.
For a long time, I believed that if something didn’t work out when I wanted it to, it was gone for good.
A missed chance.
A closed door.
A quiet no I was meant to accept and move past.
The horses taught me something different.
What’s meant for me doesn’t rush.
It doesn’t arrive because I sit and meditate or try to manifest it into being.
It doesn’t demand.
It circles back — when my hands are steadier, when my body is calmer, when my nervous system can actually receive it.
If something is meant for me, it comes when I’m ready — not before.
I’ve watched people give up on dreams because they don’t happen now.
Life has taught me that time isn’t as linear as we’re taught to believe.
Things arrive when the door is finally unlocked.
Opportunities come gently — often only after I’ve stopped chasing and started listening.
Timing, I’ve learned, isn’t a test of worth or effort.
It’s a conversation with life.
And sometimes the thing we’re waiting for doesn’t arrive until we stay consistent, keep showing up, and refuse to give up on what matters.

24/12/2025

As Christmas arrives, we want to pause and extend our sincere gratitude to everyone who has supported, followed, and walked alongside us throughout the year.

This year has been one of growth, learning, resilience, and connection. From the paddock to the people, from early mornings to long days, it is the shared effort, trust, and community spirit that continue to drive what we do.

Our Corriedales, our programs, and our broader vision all exist because of the support and belief of those around us.

Christmas is a time to slow down, reflect, and appreciate the simple but important things ~ family, community, care, and kindness. It is also a time to acknowledge the hard work that often goes unseen and the quiet dedication that keeps everything moving forward.

We hope this festive season brings you warmth, rest, and moments shared with those who matter most. May the New Year ahead be filled with good health, opportunity, and renewed purpose.

From all of us, and from the flock,
Merry Christmas and a safe, peaceful New Year.

With gratitude,
The Tanderra Corriedales Team

22/12/2025

Applications for stall holders are now open for our inaugural Great Aussie Yarn & Fibre Market. 29th March 2026

https://www.australianfibrecollective.org/great-aussie-yarn-fibre-market-2026

Fabulous venue, the Hills Hub, is a magnificent purpose built meeting place at Emerald, in the beautiful Dandenong Ranges. Emerald, only 1 hour from Melbourne, is a busy tourist destination with plenty of Cafes.
Just perfect for hosting our market.

22/12/2025

The little things aren’t extras—they’re the whole point 🤠✨ A warm cup, a quiet sky, a steady breath. No fireworks, just the kind of peace you almost walk past. Slow down, feel the moment, let it land… because this is the stuff that holds you together when everything else gets loud 🐎🌅

21/12/2025

15/12/2025

End of another day!
📷 - Sid Martin

08/12/2025

Dec 2002 - Dick Faithfull (left) and Greg Lee lead the mob back to the Bogong High plains as his family has done for generations.

06/12/2025

There comes a moment in every farm person’s life when you must accept a hard truth:

You carry a… scent.
Not a smell.
A scent.
A multilayered aromatic experience.

I walk into public places smelling like:
– fresh straw
– calf kisses
– a hint of iodine
– a dash of despair
– and the lingering ghost of milk replacer dust

Basically, I am a walking charcuterie board of barn odors.

And yet — YET — I insist on acting shocked when people notice.

---
So I’m standing in line, minding my own business, radiating barn fumes like a biological hazard, when a stranger leans in and goes:

“Wow…you smell like a farm.”

And this is the moment where any normal human would respond with grace. Something like:

“Oh haha yeah, sorry, just got done working,”
or
“I’ll shower when I get home.”

But my brain?
My brain heard that, panicked, yeeted itself out the nearest window, and left my mouth completely unsupervised.

So what do I say?

“Thanks, you too.”

YOU. TOO.

YOU.
TOO.

I hit this innocent, freshly-showered civilian with the most accidental barn insult ever created.

They smelled like laundry detergent and hopes and dreams — and I told them THANKS YOU TOO
as if THEY were the ones walking around like a feral goat in Carhartt.

The moment the words left my mouth, even the angels were like, “…girl what.”

---
And the silence afterward?
Violent.
Traumatizing.
Biblical.

They stared at me like they were trying to figure out if I was joking or if I actually believed they smelled like cow manure and broken ambitions.

I tried to fix it, but my brain was still rebooting, so all that came out was:

“Ha…haha…yeah.”

YEAH WHAT.
WHAT WAS YEAH SUPPOSED TO MEAN.
Why am I like this??

---
Meanwhile I am standing there in full-blown farm aroma glory. I smell like I lost a wrestling match with a calf and also maybe rolled in a compost pile for fun.

My socks are questionable.
My hoodie is an archaeological site.
There is absolutely hay in my hair.
If someone slapped a “Live Animal” sticker on my back, TSA would wave me through.

And I told a totally normal, clean-smelling citizen:
“Thanks, you too.”

I should not be allowed in public without supervision.

---
New rule:

If you see me anywhere that isn’t a barn, please assume:

1. I can’t smell myself anymore

2. I definitely smell like cow

3. If you comment on it, I WILL say something feral and deeply embarrassing in response, and then I will flee the premises.

I am done apologizing for the scent.
It is part of my personality now.
It has fused with my soul.

If you don’t like it?
Thanks, you too.

06/12/2025

What do you do for work? But say it the long, funny way, no job titles allowed.