Oh little darlin'... Here Comes the Sun ... scorching down through the clear blue Eumundi skies, ripening our mandarins to sticky, chin-dripping sweetness, heating the water for scalding showers, and most thrilling of all, powering all our lights, tools and appliances - with plenty left over to sell back to mission control (Energex). Last quarter, when account time rolled around, we opened that familiar, cellophane-windowed envelope to find a bill for - wait for it - $5. Yep, $5.
Oh sun! Oh powerful and mighty orb - no wonder the Aztecs worshipped you.


As you can see, the shed has now become solar central - our own little clean green power station. Thank you Australian government, for all those incentive schemes. After rebates, this $12,000 plus system (nine photovoltaic panels, plus a rather schmick inverter) cost us around $2,000. Less than a big screen plasma, and in my book, way more bang for my buck. (We could have paid as little as $500 had we gone for the budget inverter, but the more expensive model means that, should we feel an uncontrollable urge for more power, we can easily add more panels.)

As for the solar hot water system, well we've had that installed for the past six or seven years, and it's worked a treat. Although fitted with an electric booster for cloudy periods, we've hardly ever needed to flick the switch (which is saying something, considering the recent bouts of Old Testament style deluge we've been experiencing.)

But now the house is finally ready for PLUMBING (me? excited? ...  excuse me while I hyperventilate into this paper bag), and as the distance between shed and house was too great to pump water over without losing heat and pressure, we needed to buy a second system. Phil had considered moving the old one over to the house, but decided - thanks to yet more government handouts (RECs - renewable energy certificates) - that we could afford to invest in another unit.

After a bit of hemming and hawing, we decided on a split system. A gleaming array of sapphire blue solar panels sprawled across a rooftop can be a thing of beauty; a behemoth of a tank less so.  Besides, it was only going to be another thing to hawl up on the roof of our very tall house with the inaccessible and very steep roof. It was going to be tricky enough lugging the panels up there. Phil started talking very long ladders. I put my not-so-dainty foot down, and we called in the boys from Noosa Crane Hire:


It was a fun morning for all concerned, even the ground crew (me, Phil, and that bloke in the orange safety shirt.) Despite the looming clouds, the rain just managed to hold off till our precious panels were nestled safely between the soaring wings of Phil's idiosynchratic roof.
And now it's just a matter of waiting for the plumber. Tum de tum tum .... sounding of fingers drumming on table...

Soapbox:
Having given a big shout out of appreciation to Kevvie and Co for the solar incentives (my mother always told me to "try politeness first"), can I just say: "Please sir, we want some more!" Loads more. This country should have solar panels everywhere. Let's get cracking for crying out loud. Those industrious, sensible, eminently practical Germans are way ahead of us. Germany. It's embarrassing. Do they actually have sunshine over there?

I'm sure you know your Dorothea Mackellar off by heart Kev: "I love a sunburnt country, a land of sweeping plains". I can just see you Kevvie, knee-high to a grasshopper, socks pulled up and your hair slicked down, reciting it in front of class at Eumundi State School. You're a clever man Kev, so think about it: sunburnt country, sweeping plains ... Shouldn't we be leading the world on this one?

Thanks, needed to get that off my chest.
End of rant.