message in a bottle

Indi told me she liked last week's lessons learnt post a lot more than she likes the ones where I talk about what I've read, watched, listened to etc. I can't remember if she told me why she liked it. We were in the kitchen at the time and there were all these other things going on around us. But I remember being pretty happy that she did.

A little while ago when I sat down to write this post I remembered her words and wondered what she liked about it and thought about being onto a winner and possibly just repeating the same. But for some reason it didn't feel right or like enough time's passed. Like it would just be taking the easy way out, cheating.

And then I thought of the tiny glass bottle with the cork lid that she has sitting on her bedside table. Her environmental studies teacher handed them out to her students at the end of last term and asked them to fill them with whatever their holidays were full of. We threw a lot of ideas around when she showed it to us after the first week had gone by; apple pips, pencil shavings, crushed up matza, tomato seeds... By the time we saw the bottle again a few days later it was full of tiny little zinnia and dahlia petals. All the colours making patterns against the glass as she'd pushed them in.

I don't know if the cork sealing out the air will protect the petals from fading and shrivelling up over time. I'm not sure if her tiny collection will keep the memories of these flower saturated months vivid in her memory as the long winter steals the warmth and sunshine from the sky. But I do love this bottle project and I look forward to hearing what the others were filled with.

You know what's coming don't you? I know it's a bit cliche but I can't help it. And because it's my blog I'm making the rules and giving myself 18 little tiny bottles to fill with the things that filled our last week. I like the thought of them all lined up on the kitchen window sill, so I can watch them and think of these beautiful Autumn school holidays days while I do the dishes.

Just like Indi's, my first bottle would be filled with flower petals from our visit out to Country Dahlias on Tuesday. Jenny's two acre garden has Australia's largest collection of dahlias with 2,250 different types and over 20,000 bushes. At one stage I looked over a row of pom poms swaying in the breeze and found Miss pepper crawling on her knees under some low hanging stems that had given up under the weight of their dinner plate sized blossoms in the next row. 'My heart is so full of love and happiness and beauty and magic that it almost hurts' I told her. 'That's exactly how I feel about a room filled with cats' she replied. Exactly. I think the photos  in this post tell the story of our visit far more eloquently than I ever could with words, it was just magic.

The next one would be filled with the seeds of all the autumn produce we're bringing in from the orchards and garden; apples, cucumbers, tomatoes and strawberries. Tiny shavings of potato, beans, cabbage, basil and lettuce too.

Tears from the nights I spent reading The Lost Flowers Of Alice Hart, Holly Ringland's beautiful, devastating and heart filled first novel. Although the theme of domestic abuse running through it is devastating and painful, somehow Holly's book still manages to feel like a magical fairy tale. From the magnificent floral cover artwork, to the drawings and descriptions of Australian native flowers and the language they speak, the story of Alice Hart that spans two decades, to the writing that is so descriptive that at times made me feel like I was right there with Alice on the windsurfer, or running through the sugar cane fields, or swimming in the river, I couldn't put it down. It's been a few days since I read the last page but still I've found myself thinking of Alice from time to time and hoping that where ever she is, she's doing well.

Little bits of bark that stuck to our work clothes as we brought in piles of fire-wood and stacked them in the new wood shed. We're so far away from being prepared for fire burning season, but I do feel relieved that we've made a start.

Leaves from the brassicas I've been planting in the garden.

Sweat from the gym work outs I did with my old crew.

Scraps of yarn that I'm using to stitch up my Mirehouse sweater. I've got one sleeve to sew in and then I'm done. Then comes the nerve wracking time to try it on and hope that it not only fits but actually suits me too.

A little scrap of Pepper's water colour painting of a fairy that I found on the kitchen table one morning.

A splatter of the white paint I'm using on the old doors in the new bit of the green-house extension.

A photo that Indi took of Jazzy for her art folio that captures her personality exactly.

A lock of Jazzy's hair just before it was cut so much shorter

Screen shots of different cute text message conversations between my sisters and parents and Bren.

A couple of tiny coins from the apple stall at the front of our farm.

Metal filings from farmer Bren's new love of knife sharpening.

A teaspoon of the coffee that my farmer boy has brought me in bed most holiday mornings.

Rain that is showering on the roof as I type. It feels like such sweet relief for the garden, the orchards, the forest and for our water tanks, thank goodness.

A golden autumn leaf off the grape vine on the deck.

I guess the last bottle looks empty to the eye but it represents my blog writing time. The indulgence of sitting alone, mostly uninterrupted, on the daybed in our studio tapping out words and thoughts. Some days putting aside this time in an otherwise hectic life doesn't feel right, but today it means everything to me. This bottle makes me remember myself and my own needs in amongst those of my family and farm. This bottle reminds me of my love of photos and words. I hope this bottle sets a good example to my three girls about the value of personal space and creativity, this bottle makes me happy.

And there are my 18 bottles all lined up in a row. There's no beach sand, or aeroplane ticket, or road trip dust like holidays of years gone by, but I've really loved these two weeks. I've found them creative and productive, I've loved having the girls around, and I've really enjoyed the break from the school routines and stresses.

I'd best be off now, those tomatoes aren't going to preserve themselves.

So how would you fill your tiny glass bottles?
What would you put in each that would represent this time for you?


See you next week.

Love,

Kate x

these two

You'll have to excuse this post that is heavy on photos and light on words, but we are half way through the winter school holidays and all sense has flown out of the windows and all that is left behind is silliness and chatter. And song and stories and descriptions and instructions. So many words and yet none left to use here.


There was this day last week where Jazzy stayed inside and stripped her room for painting, my farmer boy and I walked up and down the hill doing the farm chores, and these two played together in the forest for hours. Climbing and laughing and sliding and telling funny stories.

There certainly are times when I wonder about living on a farm, when I worry about country kids and I hope that we are giving them enough. But at times like these I feel confident that this farm fresh world is the best world for us. It is more than enough.


I don't know if they know it yet.
But I do.


I love the way these two play and love each other fiercely.

I'm so glad I had my camera to capture them and their muddy knees.

Happy days friends. Happy days!

May the chatter that fills your head be kind and funny.

Bye!

xx

Alpaca shearing.

So it turns out Mr Cloudy and Mr Meatballs, our resident alpacas, aren't so good at doing their job as chook protectors after all. They are great lawn mowers, they add biodiversity to our farm, their poo is fertilising our paddocks, we think they are doing well keeping the foxes away and we really do like having them around and watching their funny ways. But they are hopeless at protecting the chooks from the resident eagle family and there are feathers all over the olive grove to prove it.

But having the alpacas with us over the past six months has made me realise something about myself that I didn't really know before. Visiting them and watching their wool grow and being amazed by how thick and deep it got, made me realise that I want to expand my love of wool craft further. I want to go back a few steps in the yarn chain. I want to produce, process, spin and then knit and crochet our own wool. Our own certified organic, Daylesford Organics wool.

Let's face it, if we are trying to make and grow and preserve as much of what we eat and wear and use ourselves, then it's the logical next step for me, don't you think.

Last Friday afternoon a lovely alpaca shearer called Tim came over to shear our woolly friends.

In the past I had heard awful stories of terrified, bucking alpacas being tied down on their backs so I was a bit nervous before hand, but I was also excited never having seen an animal being shorn so close up before.

But as it turned out I had nothing to worry about. Tim was gentle and calm and our alpacas were too.

They struggled a bit at first and I'm sure they didn't exactly enjoy being restrained, but they seemed to understand and respond to Tim's actions and the whole thing went smoothly.

And it was wonderful to watch Tim at work. After years on the job he knows the alpaca anatomy so well and the wool came off smoothly as the razor glided over their skin and under their fleece.

And that wool was so thick and there was so much of it and it was so clean underneath next to their skin.

We kept the wool off their sides and neck in one bag for spinning, and the rest, the shorter more scruffy wool, in another bag.

And after he was done and our alpacas looked like scrawny goat like creatures, he clipped their toe nails, checked their teeth, gave them a vitamin D injection and spoke to us about what to look for in case of sickness and how best to look after them.

I feel like last Friday was a great day in my life as a wool lover. My next step is to find myself a drop spindle and to watch a whole lot of YouTube clips.

I have butterflies in my tummy when I think of knitting something with my own hand spun. I can hardly wait. Eeeeeeeeeeep!!!!


I hope you've had a bit of excitement in your life too.

I hope you've felt passionate and inspired and excited.

And I hope if you have any spinning wisdom to pass on, you'll do so. I want to know everything.

Yay!!

Have a happy week my friends.

xx

Oh and I apologise for my lack of interneting lately. We've had all sorts of issues that have only just been resolved in the last day or so. Hopefully we are all back online drama free now. If you've emailed me and I haven't replied, maybe try me again.

Swaps.

Last June when I first started this blog, I wrote a post about some alpaca wool that I had bought and was disappointed with when I started to crochet using it. See photo below.

One of the comments I got to that post was from Jodie, who said she would love to do a swap.

I sent her the wool and so far she has knitted this hat and this winter kerchief using it.

This week I received the most amazing package from Jodie in the mail.

It contained the 2 bowls above that Jodie crocheted from wool one of her friends made using coloured scraps left over from shearing a few years ago. They are such beautiful bowls and will definitely find a special place in my collection.

It also contained the most gorgeous pile of wool, cottons and ribbon, some bought, some handmade. My wool stash is really coming along now!

Thank you so much Jodie, I am thrilled and inspired.

I have also signed up to another one of Jodie's washer swaps. I have a month to make and send a washer and a packet of seeds to my assigned swap partner.

Last night I completed my 3rd ever knitting project, an apple washer using this pattern. Please excuse the wrinkles, I haven't worked out how to block my work yet.

I hope you are having a creative day.

Disaster with Alpaca Wool

When I first learnt to crochet, I was so desperate to get going that I went to the one wool shop in town and bought the only wool they stocked in the colourway I was looking for.  Not really knowing much about wool types, ply or that there could be different wools appropriate for different projects, I guess I was lucky that it all worked out. 

The wool I bought was soft, the colours bright and it was a pleasure to work with.  The end result was Jazzy's granny rug.

After I'd stitched all the squares together I visited a wool shop in Melbourne and decided to buy the wool for my next blanket.

The shop was enormous and had walls and walls of wool.

I was completely overwhelmed and couldn't make any decisions.

After several laps of the shop Bren had had enough and it was time to decide.

The alpaca wool seemed to be the softest and have a lovely selection in the blue/green colourway that my eldest daughter favoured.

I laid them all out on the floor, changing the order, adding and subtracting colours and then paid up and left.

As soon as I came home I opened up one of the my crochet books, Crochet edited by Katy Bevan and started hooking hexagons. 

I think I probably knew what was going on after I finished the first hexagon but I was so pleased with how lovely it was to crochet this new shape that I ignored it.

After I had made the second and joined it to the first I pinned them to my curtains so I could see them properly. 

There was no denying it. It was awful. The wool was hairy and the colours bled into each other and seemed muted. And I think it might even be itchy.

I made two more hexagons and that was it. I could not go on.

I think I got a bit of a shock because choosing colors was something that until then I had found quite easy.

But one thing I know for sure is that this is not the look I am after.

So now I have a bag of wool that I don't like and don't know what to do with. Maybe if I put it away for a while something or someone will find a need for it someday. But in the meantime I think I'll ask for advice or stick to the wool I know works for me.