under the blackwood tree

There I was for weeks counting down the days until the school holidays arrived. Imagining slow mornings when our body clocks woke us rather than our alarms, when we ate when we were hungry and all pitched in to clean up afterwards, and when we hung out together in the days on the farm getting things done and at nights playing games or watching movies. It would be the perfect mix of restful and productive. Everyone would get what they needed.

This morning, on the very first day of the holidays, I woke up to the sound of Bren on the chainsaw getting an early start and the girls only looking up from the film they were watching to ask about food, their own arrangements, or about the weather.

And all of a sudden the bubble of my idyllic holiday popped and it hit me that for the next two weeks I wouldn't be able to just grab some secateurs and gloves and go down to the plum orchard to finish the job I started yesterday, I wouldn't be able to grab a snack on the run, and there wouldn't be a time when someone wasn't talking to me or asking me to do something.

As I sat at the kitchen trying to drink my coffee I decided it was probably easiest to give in to them and give up my personal expectations of work for the day. I listened to a discussion of someone's camping arrangements, someone's birthday party plans, and to someone else's cough. I answered questions about boots, bus timetables and movies. And in my mind I saw all the spring planting and pruning and weeding that I needed to do over the next two weeks as a butterfly, slowly fluttering its wings and heading for the skies.

While the school holidays would be a lovely rest from all the driving, the homework, the exhaustion and the alarms, it looked like it was going to be rather unproductive on the farm front.

But just as I was contemplating the new plan and trying to come to terms with putting my own needs on hold, my farmer boy came in and reframed the whole scene. The girls would come down to the plum orchard and spend the morning helping us pull blackberry out of the rows, and in return we could look after them this afternoon.

It took me a few minutes to get rid of my earlier disappointment and fall in love with the new plan but when I did, I saw that it was golden.

With the smallest suggestion everyone got dressed in farm clothes, grabbed their gloves and secateurs and headed down the hill. We mowed, we raked, we yanked all those prickly blackberry vines out of the rows of plum trees and currant bushes and then we fed them to the fire.

After a few hours the girls took themselves off to find the swing Bren had made and hung for them when they were little under an enormous Blackwood tree. When they discovered that since their last visit a couple of years ago it had grown a thick thorny jungle, they started cutting a path in. Vine by vine they cut and then carried to a pile outside the tree. Vine by vine their path lengthened. Until they reached their dad-made swing.

After we had finished what we were doing we helped with their path for a while. It was gorgeous working for them and listening to them reminisce about playing under there when they were tiny and make plans for lots of swings under there in the future. I still can't decide if I should take the brush cutter to the blackberry jungle and clean it all up for them, or if the path between the prickles makes it a bit more fun and magical.

I am feeling a bit more optimistic about these holidays now too. With four extra hands (two are away camping), we should be able to get things done a bit quicker than usual and have extra time for their plans. I like it.

I hope you're finding some sort of balance in your world too.

Are you good at remembering what you need when life gets a bit crazy?
And how do you manage to fit school holidays into your routine??

I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

Lots of love,

Kate xx

late summer sunshine

Hello sweet friends,

How's your week been?

I've actually had a lovely few days. Where last week I felt like I was writing to you from inside a snow globe, this week feels completely different. This week I feel like I'm writing from Snow White's castle. You know the one where Snow White lay asleep for 100 years while the vines grow up and covered the stones and the windows and the roof until it was all dark and gloomy inside? Except in my case we've spent time cutting at the vines, and now the light is slowly starting to stream on in.

I mean that literally and figuratively.

This week we actually have spent time on the brush cutters and on the chain saw, mowing and chopping and clearing the way. I love this sort of work. It is dirty and loud and physical and the results are immediate. Where there was once a forest of bracken and gorse and blackberry and thistles, now there is a path and a view through the forest. It's clearing the way, it's letting the light in, it's making things prettier and it's tackling something that has been upsetting me but that I've learnt to live with. It's crazy what a difference this has made to the way I see our farm. And the way I feel psychologically in general. It's completely encouraged me to veer off the path of the urgent to-do list, and make time to tackle the less immediately important jobs.

I hope we get a chance to continue. I'd love to put the farm to bed for winter all fresh and cleaned up and airy.

The only down side of the whole experience so far was being bitten on the bum by a bull ant. There I was minding my own business, completely focused on the job at hand when all of a sudden I felt excruciating burning pain on my bum. I somehow got Bren's attention on the other side of the way and together we broke the world record getting me out of my helmet, headphones, glasses, vest-harness, overalls and undies. The pain!! Luckily Bren saw the angry creature as it was escaping so at least we knew what we were dealing with. But oh my goodness OUCH!! Followed by that insatiable itch all night and two big red lumps today. Poor me.

We've also been restocking some of the wood piles that have fallen over and I read this great paragraph in the book Norwegian Wood: Chopping, Stacking, and Drying Wood the Scandinavian Way by Lars Mytting. Thanks for the recommendation OurHouseInQuercy.

You know exactly where you are with a woodpile. Its share price doesn't fall on the stock market. It won't rust. It won't sue for divorce. It just stands there and does one thing:It waits for winter. An investment account reminding you of all the hard work you've put into it. On bitterly cold January mornings will bring back memories of those spring days when you sawed, split, and stacked as you worked to insure yourself against the cold. There's that twisted knot that just wouldn't surrender to your ax. And isn't that the log you pushed in at the wrong angle, making the whole pile collapse? Yes, that's the one alright. Well winter's here, and now it's your turn to feed the flames.

As well as the literal clearing of the vines to let the light come through, I've also spent time looking for other small changes I can make to bring in the sunshine.

On Wednesday I spent the entire day away from the farm. I took a train with my mum to the city where we lunched, we shopped, we coffeed, we sat on my sister's couch for hours, we talked, we planned and even though the guilt tried to creep in a few times, I saw it and I banished it away.

It was such a wonderful day that I hardly slept that night I was so buzzing with sweet thoughts and ideas. I think I need to take a break from my own life on occasion when I can in order to appreciate what I have and to see it with fresh eyes.

I spent time preserving the summer harvest which always makes me happy. I filled a heap of jars with blackberry jam, I fermented cucumbers and carrots, we made lots of fruit leather and basil pesto. Still to come over the weekend is cabbage sauerkraut and maybe some dried apples and peaches.

I questioned my social media use and what it was doing to my state of mind, my attention span and to my relationships with those I love and live with. I did overuse it at times to follow a certain story in the news and felt guilty when Miss Indi pointed out how distracted I'd been.

I did consider deleting Instagram after consistent questioning of the commercialisation, the slickly styled, the ridiculous amount of hash-tags people use and the way they think they can tell me how to live my life. It just feels like it's lost a lot of the natural sharing of moments of our lives that it used to be.

But then I worried about losing the connections and the community that I've made.

So I made the decision to only check in occasionally, a couple of times a day maximum, rather than any time I'm sitting still. I think I'll probably have to make myself some proper timing rules to enforce that.

And although it feels rude, I'm going to delete some accounts that don't speak to me any longer and I'm going to post my moments without worry of outside judgment. The kinds of beautifully real moments I always love to see.

I read The Good People by Hannah Kent and oh my goodness I loved it. I just can't get enough of stories of early 1800's Europe. I love the tales of fairies and changelings, the herbal medicines, the references to the knitting and spinning and dyeing and the way their superstitions and beliefs ruled the ways they lived.

One time last year I heard Hannah speak at an event. She spoke of her love life which had nothing at all to do with her books, and to be honest I was surprised. Her writing is so intense and dark and other worldly, that I almost couldn't imagine her being a young woman living a normal 2016 life. But I was relieved to find that from the first page of The Good People I forgot all about the jeans she was wearing and the iPhone she carried and was immediately swept away. What a talent she has for writing atmospheres so thick you can almost smell the wood smoke and the damp of the earth, and introduce us to characters who are so beautifully described that we can almost see them and we miss them once the final page is turned. I only hope Hannah is well and truly into the writing of her next book, because I for one can hardly wait to read it.

Last Friday, just after I'd published my blog, we ran off to our gym session. When we got there Sam, our trainer, had written  on her white board a circuit of exercises she wanted us to complete. A few squats with weights into it, I realised that I wasn't going to make it that session. I felt weak and tired and emotional and she set me up with some light weights instead.

This morning, exactly a week later, we turned up and she pulled out the same circuit. She hadn't rubbed it off and wanted us to complete three rounds of the exercises we had failed the week before. I laughed and told her she was messing with my head. How was I to this thing that only days before I had dismally failed at?

But seven days in a snow globe compared to seven days in a castle where the sunlight is starting to stream in, make an enormous difference to one's physical strength, because this week I could and did. I lifted and pushed up and ran and squatted and threw and lifted myself up and I walked out of there feeling on top of the world.

I'll need to remind myself not to be so disappointed in myself when I have setbacks in the future and that it doesn't take much to get back up there again.

Chances are that at our next session I'll be feeling premenstrual and then the one after that I'll be periody and will have to wait a whole week to feel strong again. Wouldn't it be lovely to be a bit more reliably stable sometimes? To feel like you were climbing that hill at a steady pace rather than tripping over all the time and then having to run to catch up?

But I guess that's not the way that I work.

Gosh what an all over the place blog this has been. Thanks for coming along for the ride. And thanks also for your sweet words of encouragement and understanding on my last blog. They means the world to me. I read them all and talk about them with Bren and always intend to reply, but sometimes I'm better at that than others.

Anyway, I hope you've got something fun to look forward to coming up. And I hope you're sleeping well at night, it's such a pain being a bad sleeper. I hope you have a lovely project you can't wait to get back to and a book you don't want to put down.

Happy weekend my friends.

Love, love, love Kate xx

late summer blues

 first day of school

end of summer garden jungle

the cucumber hunt

little fuzzy quince

tiny apples

pretty spotty pears

apple eater

Hello my lovely ones,

I'm writing to you this week from inside my snow globe. I was going to say from inside my shower screen, but the imagery isn't as good. And actually it's kind of like a reverse snow globe anyway. I'm sitting inside and the rest of the beautiful world is outside. Shake it up and a flurry of pretty leaves and flower petals fall from the trees.

I've been sitting inside my snow globe for close to a week now. Sitting here alone hoping for the lid to lift and for things to feel different. And just now I've started to feel anxious that I'm ending the week feeling the same way that I started. Nothing seems to have changed.

From in here the world looks grimy and a bit hopeless and sad. Even though we still have a few weeks left of summer, the days are getting noticeably shorter and cooler and I fear the long winter to come. I fear that the sunshine is already growing weaker and as we slowly pull the decaying summer veg from the garden and replace it with winter crops, I worry about those icy months when the garden is only green and does not boast with bright colour and bounty dripping from its vines. I'm not ready to go back to those months of frost, wet and cold.

I agonise over the stories my children bring home, not able to understand the way kids treat each other and that teachers can be so impatient and unseeing. I wonder how in this day and age with all that we know, that more of an emphasis isn't given to teaching about sustainability and care for our planet and putting plans into action.

I feel panicked at the never ending sameness of my life. The ebbs and flows are practically predictable and feel impossibly tedious from where I sit right now.

I feel disappointed about the growing season and am already tired of the excuses I'll have to repeat to myself and others as the harvest we had been so looking forward to doesn't eventuate.

And I worry about the world. About the people and the creatures who should treat others and be treated themselves with kindness and care, and that the way things are now, is not how they always will be.

Yet despite all this, I've labelled this place where I sit my snow globe because I'm well aware of the beauty that sits outside its rounded walls. I am also all too aware that if I were a better housekeeper and brushed the cobwebs away and scrubbed the grime from the glass, that the sunshine would stream in and bleach the dirty carpet from my sight and the ache from my heart.

It's a funny place to spend time, this grey world of mine, because I don't feel overcome by despair; I just feel full of melancholy. I am aware of all the gifts I have been given, I just feel too tired to play with them right now. And this is not depression, I don't want to stay in bed and I can make a list for you a mile long of all the reasons I have to be grateful. And I believe them. Every single one. Everything just feels tainted somewhat. Bland.

At the start of my week I was kind to myself and felt that the greyness must be the result of last week's virus leaving my body. All those days spent shivering and burning up had had a physical effect on my body and now this was the emotional effect. After a few days I decided it was seasonal. I could feel summer melting into autumn, and so in turn the moon and the tides and the stars were having their effect on me. Then I got a bit cross with myself. How dare someone with so much privilege take it for granted for one moment. What was the point of wasting even one second. But the more I questioned how I felt, the more uncomfortable things felt, the more I understood that I had to lean into this mood. To push at it and poke at it and try to find its origins, its meaning and look at it from all perspectives. The worse it made me feel, the better, because hopefully somewhere hidden inside I would discover some answers.

I don't know if any of this will make sense to you, or be of any interest. I contemplated just posting a couple of photos for today's post with a promise of a proper blog when things shift, hopefully over the next few days. There is no craft, no garden, no farm, or family in these words and that makes me feel a bit odd.

When I spoke to my farmer boy about having no story other than this greyness for my blog this week, he suggested I write it down anyway, let him read it and then delete it. I knew I wouldn't delete it though. That's not my style.

He also suggested that I take a 24-hour break from social media, which so often is his solution with the girls, and I think he was surprised when I agreed. I love social media, but noticing how often I open an app and scroll mindlessly without thinking has been interesting. And having a break from what has lately felt like all the people shouting at me to look at them, do things their way, or compare myself to impossible perfection has been a bit of a relief. Life feels a lot less noisy without all the chatter. I think I'm ready to join my girls in their limited social media access during the week, possibly. As a trial.

Which brings me to the feeling that maybe this week is the discomfort before a change. I've been saying for months that I'm stuck and ready for something new, something more. But late yesterday afternoon as I ran through my list of possible new projects to take on this year and then neatly followed each with a reason why I don't actually want to, it occurred to me that maybe I am scared of losing what I have in the process. Life on the other side of the snow globe looks pretty good.

So I'm right back where I started. But glad that I have the weekend and a break from routine to try to get out of my head and stuck right into life with those I love. Hopefully the grey will become mauve...

And just for the record, here's some other stuff that I've been getting up to this snow globe week.

Reading - After watching the Little Women film last week and noticing how much more of the story it covered, I checked back in with another copy of the book we have on our shelves only to discover that Louisa M Alcott wrote two books that were eventually published as one. Good Wives being the second part. So much to my delight, I have spent some bonus hours with the March family this week reading the rest of the book.

Listening - I'm still making my way through the StartUp podcast although I think I've almost reached the current episodes. The most recent series examines Dov Charney and the demise of his company American Apparel, and the start up of his new tee-shirt company. I'm loving it and it makes the long school commutes and the hanging out of the laundry and the weeding of the garden chores I actually look forward to.

Knitting - I'm happy to report that I've turned the heels of the spotty socks and am on my way up the ankles. I love them and am hoping that the recipient feels the same when she sees them this afternoon when she returns from canoe camp.

Cooking - Beetroot for salads, blackberries in fruit leather, beans in stir fries, cucumbers in pickles (not really cooking but you know...). Hopefully by this time next week we'll be eating sweet corn.

Watching - This Is Us. Oh my goodness, Kevin and Randall!!!!

Planting - Lettuce, cabbage, beetroot, rocket, carrots, spring onions, parsley, broccoli and chives.

Contemplating - What to do with the list of ethical businesses wanting to work with me on my instagram and blog. Would be so good to be able to look out for the good guys, but how can I do it and keep my integrity.

Running - Off to gym right now.

Hurting - On the knee that I landed on when I was stupidly picking blackberries on the dam wall earlier in the week and feel in.

Hoping - To be out of my snow globe and back to my silly, interpretive dance, optimistic, self ASAP.

Sending - All my love and wishes for some warm sunshine on your skin, a gentle breeze to dry your washing, a book you can't put down and a great big cuddle.

Love Kate xx

eighteenth

Just a quick one tonight because it's 9.44pm and we've just come in from organising tomorrow's chook move and I'm exhausted.

So let's do four photos with four short explanations and finish with a question for you. Sound good? Let's go!

Photo one is of a crate of rhubarb we picked while we were fencing off a part of the south orchard for the chooks to move into tomorrow. And on Wednesday they will be joined by four sheep. shEEP!  Did I tell you we're getting sheep? I'm so excited. Finally the beginning of the Daylesford Organics wool project is becoming a reality. I'll introduce you to them once they're here.

And the rhubarb? Well so far I've cooked it until it's mushy with some lemon rind and now it's straining through muslin. Tomorrow I'll make it into cordial.

I'm thinking tomorrow evening after a hot day on the farm we'll be sitting back drinking glasses of rhubarb cordial with a splash of vodka, lots of ice and a squeeze of lime. Oh yeah!

Photo two is of my broccoli seedlings poking their first leaves out of the soil. Funny how farmers and the fashion industry have working a season ahead in common. Hopefully these babies will be big and strong by the time the big chill kicks in and feed us all through the icy cold months.

Photo three is of the blackberries I picked this morning when I got up really early because I have finished my book and don't know what to read next. We ate some on our muesli for breakfast and the rest went into Sophie's Blackberry and Chocolate loaf. It was a huge hit after dinner at our house and felt like just the thing to celebrate our Indi's welcome home.

Photo four is of the apricot jam I made a few days ago being slathered on bread in the garden the yesterday when we had to have an impromptu picnic because our house was too school holidays messy to venture into. I love summer. And I'm happy to report that with all hands on deck we managed to get the house in order that afternoon and it didn't even take that long. But any excuse for a picnic hey.


So there are my four. And now what I'd love from you dear reader is some book suggestions. Last night I finished The Natural Way Of Things by Charlotte Wood. It is disturbing and haunting and at times it feels like a nightmare, but it is also incredibly fearless and beautiful and brilliantly written. I can't stop thinking about it. If I'd had the time I would have gobbled it up in one session, but I couldn't, and in the end I found myself limiting myself to a few pages at a time in an attempt to slow down the inevitable end. I loved it. I loved it so much that I'm scared the next books I read will feel inferior and crappy.

So please help me with your most loved book suggestions, I'll be so grateful for something good to read at night and first thing in the morning.


I hope you're in the middle of a book you are loving, it's the best feeling isn't it.

Ciao, ciao!


Kate

xoxo


ps happy birthday mogus xoxo

twelfth

We picked our first tee-shirt-ful of blackberries today.

And even though I don't consider myself to be the slightest bit religious, I said a little prayer. Well actually I said half a prayer because I got rid of the beginning and only said the end. It's a Jewish prayer and the transliteration is - shehecheyanu vekiymanu vehigyanu lazman hazeh - and I think it translates to something like - thank you to you who has granted us life, who has sustained us and enabled us to reach this occasion.

I just checked the blessing out on Wikipedia and traditionally it is recited 'when doing or experiencing something that occurs infrequently from which one derives pleasure or benefit.'

For me though the prayer is about the picking and tasting and celebrating the first fruit or vegetable of the season. I like the concept of choosing bits from here and there to give meaning and value to moments. I like stopping to notice and acknowledge and be grateful.

All through his married life my grandfather would bring the first fruits of the season home to his darling wife, my grandmother. He would then recite the blessing and they would enjoy the sweetness together. When I still lived at home with my family, every Sunday morning my grandfather would come over early with a box stuffed full of bagels, fresh fruit and vegetables. Anytime there was anything new, anything we hadn't tasted in many months, he would recite the blessing and together we would gobble the fresh cherries, or corn, or tomatoes.

After we moved to our farm this blessing took on a new meaning for me as we were growing so much of our own produce. It wasn't just the newness we were celebrating anymore, but the whole process that brought us to the ripe fruit. Everything from the seeding to the weeding to the watering. Every week my grandparents would come and visit and spend the day with us and anytime we had something new for him to taste he would hold the fruit in his hand close to his face, he would close his eyes and recite the blessing and then he would give my grandmother the first bite, follow it with his bite and then he would rave about how wonderful it was. I loved it when the girls started joining in. I loved the whole ritual. It made something so simple into an occasion.

Today we picked and ate our first blackberries of the season. Generally I'm not such a fan of the little black fruit, but the first of the season felt special. I recited my half of the blessing, Miss Pepper ate one and then I followed. I only wish my grandfather could have been here to share the moment and our berries. I'll have to take him some when we visit on the weekend.

Do you have any special seasonal rituals?
Do you like blackberries?
Can you believe that I told my Dad I could write this blog post in one or two sentences?


I hope you're enjoying the sweetness of your season whatever it may be.

Love Kate
xoxo

ps Happy birthday Abby!

hazel nuts

For all your messages and stories and thoughts and wishes and prayers, thank you!

I'm doing OK. Living the in between week; after hospital but before the appointments. I'm feeling better as each day goes past. I'm trying my hardest to stay positive, to stay in the moment, to surround myself with goodness and love. And when I absolutely cannot, I am acknowledging the thought, seeing it for what it is, noticing my reaction to it, and then letting it flow down the stream. Flow down the stream stupid lump!

I'm not great at this stream thing but I know it's worth working on.

I'm not great at taking it easy either, but my farmer boy is insisting and I'm listening.

I just want to get through this. I just want to finish picking all those hazel nuts, cleaning up that orchard jungle, and baking some hazel nut biscotti.

Biggest love

xx

10 random things

Blogging is a funny old thing isn't it. I think that probably eight out of ten times when I think about writing a blog post, the first thing that crosses my mind is - who cares? Who would even be interested in reading that? But then I load the photos and I write it anyway.

And then when I'm finished I press publish, and I exhale, and it's gone, and it often occurs to me again that blogging is so self indulgent.

And then soon after that someone in my family texts me the edits and sometimes they tell me they liked it. And then some comments come in…maybe an email or two, and I am reminded that you feel it too, you do it too, you want it too. You advise me, you commiserate with me, you question me, you compliment me, you tell me your stories. I love hearing your stories.

And then it all makes sense. I understand why I press publish and not save. It's a community thing and I love it.

So in the spirit of self indulgience, here are 10 completely random things that are going on in my life right now.

ONE: We have tomatoes. Finally. Cherries and romas and pears, oh my. If there's one thing this heat-wave has been good for, it's ripening our tomatoes, hooray!

I cannot tell you how great it was to finally break our tomato fast. To eat them in salads, on toast and straight off the vine. To have that little plate up on the window sill for ripening the greenies. And for the colour. What a difference that red makes to a dish.

I'm so pleased that we waited though. It was totally worth it.

TWO: The kitchen garden is pretty awesome all together at the moment: carrots and leeks and onions and lettuce and rocket and basil and tomatoes and peas and beans and beetroot and other things that I'm sure I've forgotten. There is nothing quite like telling the girls to go and pick their own afternoon tea.

THREE: Part of me feels like I am dealing with all my girls being at school this year for the very first time. Last year when it really was the start of this new phase, I was writing my book, and then we went to Israel, and then I spent the rest of the year publicising my book and I was too busy to notice. But now I'm noticing. And it feels a bit empty. And the house feels quiet. And I miss them.

FOUR: I'm asked often what wool I am using to crochet my blanket. The answer is anything 8ply I can get my hands on. I have raided all of my baskets of odds and ends left over from olfd projects. And once, only because I had used up all the fun colours first, I bought eight new balls of wool from a shop in Malvern. All different brands, all different colours.

I've crocheted 162 squares of my summer blanket so far. Every time I finish 12 squares I join them to the main blanket. I think I'll keep going for as long as the white holds out. I'm loving this project but I'm starting to think about the next.

FIVE: I'm reading Wild by Cheryl Strayed. I am seriously loving it. It's slow going though, reading and rereading each bit because I want to savour it, and I want to take it all in, and I want to remember it.  Such a great story. Such an incredible story teller.

It's made me think about a journey of our own. Maybe for a week? I love the idea of walking a long path through wilderness. Carrying all our own gear, slowing down time, noticing what's out there, thinking thoughts all the way through….maybe….


SIX: The blackberries are ripe for the picking and we've been picking. And eating and making this cake. In the next day or so I think there will be enough for my first jam of the season. I've been looking forward to standing over a bubbling cauldron for a while now.

SEVEN: This morning on my run around the big block I got a notification on my phone telling me that there was a bushfire a few kilometres up the road from our farm. Let's just say there's nothing quite like the rush of adrenaline to make me pick up the pace and make a run for it. Luckily I came home to find that it had been a false alarm…phew!!


EIGHT: I took this picture of fighting roosters a while ago and keep forgetting to post it. It terrifies me and at the same time makes me think of my run in with the white rooster.

NINE: My farmer boy has trained and is now a projectionist at the local Daylesford Rex cinema. My girls laughed when I told them I thought it was sexy to be dating the projectionist. But I still think it is.

TEN: I heard a senior weather forecaster on the radio today talking about the fact that we've had almost all of our extreme heat for this season. It will still be hot but not as hot and not for as many days in a row. Even though some of the heat has been scary this year, it made me feel sad. Summer is coming to an end. I kinda miss it already.

So how about you?
What have you been reading, growing, baking, thinking about?
If you feel like writing 10 random things on your own blog leave me a comment and I'll come and visit.

Thanks for reading.
Big love,
xx