It's three o'clock on Friday afternoon. I'm sitting cross legged on the green chair in the picture above, with my laptop on my knee. It's quiet apart from the croaking of the frogs in the house dam to my right, and the crowing roosters in the distance to my left. My entire family have been gone since nine this morning. I've had the whole day to do with as I please. And yet since nine o'clock this morning I've found a hundred excuses not to sit here and do the one thing that I really have wanted to do all along, and that is to write my blog.
I've done some knitting, I've hung out some laundry, I've washed the dishes, (I probs should have vacuumed the carpet in the photo above - oops), I've watered the garden and I've made sure that I'm up to date with all the social media, but it's 3.20 and my blog is still unwritten.
I've always maintained that the more I write, the more I write, the better I write, the happier I am. But something happened a few months ago that stopped me writing and I haven't known how to come back. Something made me ask 'so what' and 'who cares' every time I thought of something little I wanted to say, so I stopped wanting to say it. It can be so mean at times that internal voice of mine.
So I started looking at the bigger stories in my world, but mostly I found that they weren't mine to tell. Blogging as a mother of teenagers is such a tricky juggling act, a crazy adventure. I'm on my toes and my lips are sealed.
There's a little thing in our house called the lentil pancake. The lentil pancake is the first pancake you make in a batch. You always chuck it in the compost because it tastes like the lentils you cooked in the pan the night before, but you have to make it so you can get on with the important task of making the rest of the yummy stack.
So I've decided to think of this blog as my lentil pancake. I've been putting it off all day, it feels sticky to write and there's an excellent chance I'll chuck it in the compost once it's done, but I have to write it, I know I do.
So here goes - 10 random things about now;
This was the last pair of socks that I cast off. I made them for Jazzy's thirteenth birthday. These socks are made from yarn I bought off someone who didn't want it anymore, I made the pattern up but had to reknit parts when my tension was all wrong. These socks jiggled around in the bottom of my basket for about three weeks. I knitted them while watching episodes of Outlander and as I sat huddled by the fire and wished for winter to become spring. Although these socks contain the memories of two separate incidents where the recipient expressed her doubt in quite strong words, I'm happy to report that these socks, knitted extra long to be worn under Doc Martin boots, are being worn at this very moment and have been on and off for most of this week.
October/November being birthday season around here means we've all, with the exception of our farmer boy, turned another year older, and wiser, and more wrinkly (that's just me). Miss Pepper celebrated turning nine with a pussy-cat roller-skating party, which of course makes perfect sense as she wants to be a roller-skating vet when she grows up! Thank goodness for Pepper.
Despite the fact that I announced loudly at the start of birthday party season that I was retiring from making pass-the-parcels and other party games, something crazy overtook me the night before each invitation had to be handed out and I became obsessed with the cutting and the gluing. I spent hours on Jazzy's flower pots, and Pepper's cats had arm and leg joints that actually moved!
After weeks of wind, rain and worry, the sun came out and then the apple blossom followed. It was patchy, and unlike other years there wasn't a week where all of the orchards were in flower at once, but we are hopeful of a medium-sized crop and are ridiculously excited to eat them.
The story this photo tells is of bonfires of apple prunings, of learning how to use the new lens I got for my birthday, of after-school barbecue picnics, and of shrieking girls lifting branches filled with flames high up into the air.
Six is for the music, because with four of the five of us now taking voice and instrument lessons, there is never a moment without a tune.
Actually, I wonder if the click-clack of my knitting needles could be considered some form of percussion? Do you think?
The flowers Indi picked for my bed and the books I'm reading.
The top one my mum passed to me this morning and I haven't started, Outlander I'm 160 pages in and loving, but I'm yet to come across a description of a knitted garment, which is disappointing, as any knitter will agree that was a highlight of the series. I've read some of the Tim Winton stories before and I've heard him discuss some of the others in interviews so it's at the bottom for now but my farmer boy has bookmarked a couple for me that he thinks I'll love and I look forward to them.
Eight is all about how we've been living in a renovation site for three months as we slowly turn our ugly duckling house into a swan. Indi has a new bedroom, we have a new studio/office, the lounge-room has new shelves and there are lots of new/old doors and benches and desks around the place too.
One afternoon Bren's dad walked in to say hello and having elbowed his way through piles of boxes and kicked his way through drop sheets and tools, he called out BOMB SITE! BOMB SITE!! And for a while it did feel exactly like that. For even longer, because Jobbo our builder only worked with us for two days a week. But sitting back now, almost at the end of stage one, and seeing how beautiful everything looks, how every single piece of timber has a story and how happy it makes us living here, I can say that I'll be pleased to spend another three months living in a bomb site next March when we take on stage two.
These are the socks I'm knitting right now. I thought they were for Indi's sweet 16 year old feet, but she thinks they might just be too bright. I'm obsessively loving knitting them though and I won't be at all upset if I'm the one who ends up wearing them, that's for sure.
No random post of mine would be complete without a bit about the garden. As with the slooooooow arrival of the sunshine this year, so it is with our growing season. But I'm happy to report that I've filled up the kitchen garden, the hot house is BURSTING with seedlings, the poly tunnels will be planted out this weekend, and hopefully everything else will be going in next week.
So far we're eating snow peas, and strawberries, and lettuce, and spring onion, and garlic.
And that's it! I'll leave you with a photo taken from where I sit. I didn't clean it up before I took it, but hopefully that'll just inspire me to take some better shots soon and show you around all of our new spaces and tell you their stories.
Any finally, thank you if you're reading this, for sticking by me and encouraging me and making me happy. If you've messaged me asking if I'm okay and when I'll be back here, thank you for that too.
It's funny but at the same time as I want my girls to know that they are so much more than their social media stats or content, here I am rather hypocritically putting blogger in my bio. Go figure.
Oh and if there's anything else you'd like me to blog about please let me know. It might just shut that 'so what - who cares' voice up once and for all.