Chapter 2: The Property That Changed Everything

Before there was a house, before there was a farm, there was a marri tree and a dream.

Saturday, 20 June 2026

Before there was a house, before there was a farm, there was a marri tree and a dream.

By the time we settled into life in Dunsborough, one thing had become obvious.

We missed space.

As we explored the Margaret River region, we found ourselves slowing down whenever we passed open paddocks, gum trees and long country driveways.

"What if?" became a regular conversation.

At first, we weren't dreaming big.

We wanted around 10,000 square metres.

Enough room for a garden, a few chickens and a dog to run.

The Border Collie who made acreage feel much less optional.

We purchased a 16,000-square-metre pre-release block in Yallingup and immediately started designing our future home.

As the delays continued, I realised the wedding venue they were dreaming about might never eventuate.

Our son Nathan and his fiancée Dara had planned to be married on our future property.

As the delays continued, I began to realise that the wedding venue they were dreaming about might never eventuate.

Suddenly, finding another property became about much more than acreage.

It became about family.

Sean sent our daughter, Sarah, and me to look at a few plots.

The Metricup block was not much more than cows and possibilities.

The advertisement wasn't exactly inspiring.

A few cows stood in a paddock.

That was pretty much it.

Nevertheless, Sarah and I decided to take a look.

It was September.

The paddocks were covered in green clover.

Wildflowers dotted the landscape.

Large marri trees stood proudly across the property.

And there was one tree in particular that immediately captured my attention.

One magnificent marri tree towered above everything around it.

The tree that convinced us we had found the right property - Painting by Sarah.

This was where Nathan and Dara would be married.

The property itself was little more than a blank canvas.

No house.

No sheds.

No gardens.

Just fences, cows and possibility.

I rang Sean immediately.

"We need to put an offer in today."

That evening we submitted an offer.

The decision wasn't simple.

To pursue the Metricup property, we had to walk away from the Yallingup block we had already committed to.

If we changed our minds later, there was every chance we would never be able to afford it again.

It felt like standing at a crossroads.

One road felt familiar.

The other felt uncertain.

We chose the uncertain road.

I still remember sitting in the real estate office as the reality of what we had just done sank in.

This wasn't simply a property purchase. It felt like one of those moments that changes everything.

To make matters even more stressful, another offer on the property was submitted that same day.

We didn't know the amount.

We didn't know our chances.

We offered everything we could reasonably afford and trusted that if it was meant to be, the right door would open.

The next day the phone rang.

The day eighty-nine acres became ours.

Our offer had been accepted.

Sean and I both cried.

After everything we had been through, it felt like an answer to prayer.

What we didn't fully appreciate was just how large the property really was.

Eighty-nine acres.

Far larger than anything we had originally imagined.

Far larger than anything we thought we could manage.

But there was no time to dwell on that.

Planning immediately shifted into overdrive.

Before settlement had even occurred, plans for the shed and house were submitted to the council.

Within a week of settlement, siteworks and construction had begun.

The timing still seems almost unbelievable.

The property didn't have a name.

There was no finished house.

Luxury accommodation consisted of a caravan, a shed and a great deal of optimism.

Just a caravan, a shed, a house slab.

Yet somehow it already felt like home.

As preparations for Nathan and Dara's wedding gathered pace, another practical challenge appeared.

The grass.

Guests generally prefer not to park their cars in knee-high paddocks.

Our first piece of farm equipment arrived with the help of my parents.

A ride-on mower.

Her name was Cassie.

Small mower. Very large job.

Named after our beloved dachshund, who had recently passed away and became the first member of the family to be laid to rest on the property.

A bottlebrush tree was planted above her resting place, and every year when it bursts into bright red flowers, I still think of her.

Cassie prepared pathways, parking areas and wedding grounds.

For a short time, we believed she would be all the machinery we would ever need.

On a beautiful spring day, around eighty family members and friends gathered beneath the giant marri tree.

The same tree that had captured my imagination during that first inspection.

Nathan and Dara were married beneath its branches.

The first major celebration at what would later become Noughts & Crosses.

The sun shone.

The flies attended uninvited.

There was laughter, dancing and celebration late into the evening.

A few guests even camped on the property overnight.

Looking around that evening, it was difficult to believe how much had changed in such a short time.

Only months earlier, we had wondered whether owning acreage would ever be possible.

Now we were standing in the middle of eighty-nine acres, watching our son begin the next chapter of his life.

Standing beneath that marri tree, surrounded by family and friends, we knew one thing.

We were exactly where we were meant to be.

The property wasn't finished.

Neither were we.

But the story of Noughts & Crosses had begun.

The story of Noughts & Crosses was only just beginning.