Dear Jarrah

Dear Jazzy,

Although I don't think you've ever read my blog before, as our middle child I know you'd point out the injustice if I didn't write to you like I did to Indi when she was off on her school adventure two years ago, and so I will.

Dear Jazzy,

Last Sunday night we took you to the airport for your six week class trip to France and Spain.

After weeks of preparation, after days of goodbyes, after breakfast pancakes and last minute adjustments, we five jumped in the car and drove away. In the car on the way there, despite your initial protests, I played the latest Heavyweight podcast - Rob, and you laughed the loudest. Of course you did. In our family you are 'the broken arm guy' and as our middle child, there's no way we'd be ever be allowed to forget it.

Sandwiched in between your sisters, our role as your parents is to make you feel and trust that your experiences are no less important and are valued and acknowledged equally. So we discussed your trip and tried our hardest not to compare it to Indi's. But secretly, inside my heart, I felt pleased with my own mum-experience. I knew what I was in for this time and felt a little more prepared to let you go.

At the airport you ran off excitedly with your friends, you posed for photos, danced and then we watched you as you handed over your passport and checked yourself in. It was impossible to feel overemotional when you appeared so calm, capable and ready.

We four drove home from the airport flicking through so many podcasts, but nothing fit. I think we were all a bit lost in the silence, thinking of what the Jarrah-sized hole would feel like in our lives.

On Monday, while you were still in the air, Pepper went back to school, Indi studied at home we worked on the farm and continued our attempts to use up the winter produce in the garden to make room for spring. Late in the afternoon we got a message letting us know you'd arrived in Paris with a photo of your first meal.

I wondered if you slept on the plane. I wondered if you watched movies or ate your meals. I wondered who you sat next to and what you did on your two hour stop-over in an airport far, far away.

On Tuesday we woke up with 15 year old you in our hearts. It was raining hard and I knew that if you were here you'd be bargaining for a deep bath. We put together the frames for three more bee boxes, we made Pepper's birthday party invitations, we weeded and planted and watered and cooked, and then late in the afternoon we called you and sang 'happy birthday!' Even though it had only been a few days, it made us so happy to hear your voice. To hear that you'd just been woken up with songs and cards. I love that you felt celebrated. I love that you are the 15 year old girl who wants an electric guitar for her birthday. And I hope you found all of our cards in your backpack.

On Wednesday the wind was blowing hard and unsettled everyone and everything. All of my plans to start planting out the market garden were pushed over and I felt on edge and annoyed.

On Thursday we woke up and the wind had stopped and everything felt still, thank goodness. I noticed that the first of the peonies that always flower on your birthday is out. I thought I might pick it and put it in a jar next to my bed but then I changed my mind and left it there to admire each time I walk past it to my studio.

On Thursday I also started spinning wheel lessons and dad finished his first bowl on his new lathe. He carved it out of a eucalyptus burl - a tree growth in which the grain has grown in a deformed manner. It is commonly found in the form of a rounded outgrowth on a tree trunk or branch that is filled with small knots from dormant buds.

With all that tricky grain going in every direction it was quite a challenge for him to turn but the results are totally worth the effort. Such a beautiful piece.

Which brings me to today. It's the most magnificent spring day. I'm sitting on the couch in my studio watching the birds visiting the banksia tree outside, I can just hear the sound of John on his mulcher cleaning up the gorse behind the tractor shed and I'm contemplating trying to type and treadle the spinning wheel at the same time.

And of course I'm thinking of you. I love that your school cares about rites of passage and the transition through adolescence. I love how perfectly timed this trip is for you. And I love you!

It's 6.30am in Paris, I wonder what adventures your today holds for you.

So this is it, the first of my stories from while you're away. I can't wait to hear yours.

All my love

xx

mid summer meanderings

This is always a funny little time of the year, don't you think?

The girls are on school holidays, the days are warming up, things seem to be speeding up and at the same time getting ready to slow right down. There are parties to go to, jobs to finish, gardens to water and weeds to pull. Finally the veggie garden feels like it's starting to give back to us, but we're still a long way from fruit. Part of me feels like I'm on holidays - reading in bed in the mornings, watching episodes until too late at night. And part of me feels like it's time to gear up - this is the beginning of crazy time on the farm and the more I get done now, the better I'll feel later on.

So in order to capture this moment in time and make some sort of sense of it all, I'm going to borrow an oldie from such a goodie - Pip at Meet Me At Mikes - the Taking Stock List.

Here we go.

(photo at the top is of Indi's 17th in the new sun-room)

(Indi's 17th once they had left the table to go and dance on the deck)

Drinking: iced coffee with lots of ice and no ice cream...right now even...yum! 

Reading: The Woman Who Fooled The World: Belle Gibson's Cancer Con, and the darkness at the heart of the wellness industry. Gosh what a crazy story.

Next read: My Mum's library book - Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jesmyn Ward. And then maybe Indi's VCE literature books.

 (the corn flower crown I made for our birthday girl)

Waiting: for some lettuce seeds to germinate. I've had such a bad lettuce season this year.

Disliking: cabbage moths and caterpillars. Leave my veggies alone!!

Playing: the best of 2017 play lists that Spotify is making me.

(our birthday girl)

Bookmarking: ideas to investigate when I start my flower farming course and have more knowledge.

Opening: packets of flower seeds and getting butterflies in my tummy.

(here comes the packing crate deck)

Giggling: at the study timetable on Indi's wall and wondering where she came from.

Enjoying: long sunny summer days and feeling a teensy bit sad that after today they start getting shorter.

Questioning: whether I've planted everything, and enough of everything, and if there's still time for more.

(the first of the two bits of the deck)

Feeling: that old familiar guilt that arrives on school holidays when the girls want to play with me, but I have so much farm work to do.

Looking: at the new deck along the front of our house and wondering where I can find some beautiful outdoor chairs for lounging about, reading books and sipping cocktails.

Admiring: the new deck and feeling so proud of my farmer boy who saw some old packing crates on an instagram page and had the foresight to imagine them as something beautiful. 

(my parents celebrating 50 years of marriage)

Making: knitted crowns for my Mum and Dad. The Ravelry details are here.

Deciding: on my next knitting project, either a pair of socks or a cardigan.

Considering: buying myself some sock blockers. Should I?

Wondering: if I should start a new macrame plant hanger instead.

(my sisters and parents at our golden 50 year anniversary party)

Wearing: my uniform - work overalls and a tee-shirt

Needing: to write up the notes from the interview I did yesterday before I forget the context and can't read my writing. 

Pondering: recording my next interview, so I can capture more detail.

Knowing: that I have four stories to write and that despite my best intentions, I'll probably leave writing them til the very last minute.

(the zinnias start to pop and add some much needed colour to the market garden)

Thinking: about how beautiful the garden will look when it is filled with colourful flowers.

Buying: geraniums for my hanging baskets.

Liking: mowing the orchards and getting ready to net them.

Hoping: for a really good apple season.

Waiting: to open the farm gate stall again, it feels like it's been forever.

(oh my goodness! oh my goodness!)

Following: lots of flower farmer accounts.

Cooking: broad beans in butter, with garlic and herbs on toast.

Hearing: the crash of cutlery being put away and hoping that it's one of the girls doing it and not Bren.

Snacking: on the fresh currants we picked a few nights ago.

Wanting: to go and pick more before the birds discover them.

(the prettiest little dahlias I bought from our local botanical gardens plant sale recently. I should have bought more)

Marvelling: at the magnificence of the flowers as they open up in the garden.

Watching: last season of Australian Survivor - don't judge me.

Cringing: at having to admit that's what I'm watching. I'm calling it research tho as we have a few friends who are auditioning for the next series.

Next watch: I don't know. Do you have any suggestions?

Noticing: the soil on the leaves and petals of the flowers in the market garden and wondering if watering them from above might not be the best thing for them.

Smelling: the next flush of roses.

Coveting: the fabulous photos of dahlias coming up in my instagram feed and wondering how the 20 tubers I planted are going to perform.

(farmer Bren's favourite thing in the garden at the moment - the leek flower!)

Loving: the flowers on the vegetables in the garden; the tomatoes, the potatoes, the leeks, the beans, the peas, the cucumbers and the rocket. It's such a beautiful and exciting time of the year.

Sorting: the seeds and pulling out those that need to be planted in mid summer.

Getting: ready to start braiding the garlic harvest.

Wishing: for a safe, exciting, inspiring and love filled new year for us all.


And that's that! 

If you want to make your own list you can find all the prompts on Pip's blog here.

Or if you feel like telling me what you're snacking on, hoping for, marvelling at, making or any of the other ...ings, you can type your answers into the comments section of this very blog. I'd love to read them.

Wishing you and yours a fabulous summer/winter solstice, a merry Christmas, a fabulous weekend, and enough time.

Lots of love,

Kate xx

from peak to past

It was weird the way we left our farm for ten days and by the time we got back everything felt different. In the scheme of things ten days doesn't sound like such a long time. We felt confident before we left that not much would change while we were away, that things would feel the same when we returned.

I remember other times away when we've sent requests home for photos of the gardens and orchards, looking forward to noticing new growth and old patterns, but not this time. In ten days we didn't expect any changes at all.

But quite the opposite happened. We left crisp, sunshiney, tee-shirt wearing days. We left apples, pears and quinces on the trees and tomatoes, zucchinis and cucumbers on the vines. We left trees covered in green leaves. We left days that dried laundry on the line and nights that were crisp enough to light the fire. We left blue skies and light and the promise of time to get everything done.

And then we returned last Monday into another season. The five days we've been home have been grey, freezing cold and the sort of wet that sinks in without definite beginnings and ends to the rain storms.

While we were away the wild animals cleared all the fruit off the trees and off the ground. They were so thorough that I felt like we'd been robbed until my farmer boy pointed out that no human would take all the rotten fruit from under the trees as well. Pears, apples, nashis and even the medlars have been eaten up without a scrap left behind.

The day after we got back I picked a crate of tomatoes and I could probably go through them again today and get another. But for every firm, ripe tomato, there are three split, squooshy soft ones. Hunting through the vines feels like an unlucky dip when you put your hands in and are confronted by the overripe, the decay, the damp, the slugs, the tar and that old tomato smell. Last Monday I lost my lens cap in a row of tomatoes and it still feels too icky in there to go back and look.

I'm gradually picking the beans as their pods brown off. There are carrots, beetroots, lots of leafy greens and leeks by the row. And for some reason the birds have left us some quinces for jelly. But the peak of the season has most definitely past and it feels like we're almost at that time now where some things will keep in the ground but nothing much will grow.

How did we go from peak to past so quickly? How are we not meant to take it personally when six months ago we were optimistically planting seeds and yet here we are now pulling out the debris by the armful and chucking it on the compost pile?

But the leaves have put on quite the show for us over the past few days. Everywhere you look there are reds and oranges and yellows and purples. We're constantly elbowing each other, pointing things out and ooooing and ahhhhing.

And as for the laundry and the fire? Inside and all the time.

I'm really worried about late autumn and winter. I'm anxious about the gloomy, grey days that are so cold they make my bones ache. I'm worried about driving the girls to school and back in the dark, over the mountains, on icy roads. I'm worried about the months where nothing grows in the garden. I'm worried about the inevitable questioning of whether I'm even a farmer if I'm not growing anything. I'm worried about feeling stuck and slow and uninspired and uninteresting. I'm worried about all the jobs on the farm I want to do before it's too cold to go out and do them. I'm worried about mould and damp and the slushy mud. I'm worried about how long it'll be before the warmth of the sun touches my face again. In a way I feel like I'm half a person in winter and I'm worried about that too.

A little while ago someone wrote to me on my blog about how often I express fear and that maybe I should confront it. In this case it's certainly true, I do have a fear of winter and I am totally willing and ready to accept it and face it this year. I'd love to work out where it comes from and what it's all about and how to conquer it. Or a least experience a milder version of it. I hope it's possible

But in the meantime here are some of the ways that I'm going to try and warm up my last month of autumn and my winter a bit:

I'm going to try and raise my level of fitness by going to gym for another session a week or by committing to some home exercise time on a regular basis. Actually maybe I need to a goal to work towards.

I'm going to expand my soup repertoire past the leek and potato and vegetable basics.

I'm going to learn something new. I think it's time for me to leave my comfort zone and experiment.

I'm going to try again to try and meditate.

I'm going to research and buy some quality, not itchy thermal underwear.

I'm going to take a break from knitting socks after I finish this pair and knit a bunch of beanies, mittens, scarves and shawls. Pepper has a list up on the door where family members can place their orders.

I'm going to make myself rug up and get outside whenever it's not windy and raining.

I'm going to plan some trips to Melbourne.

I am going to make up a mantra about decay and rotting being part of the cycle of life and I'm going to write it out and repeat it to myself.

I'm going to (try my hardest to) keep our house clean and tidy.

I'm going to make some nice smelling bath things.

When we're stuck inside for days at a time, I'm going to remind myself that I dream of the slow, quiet days in summer and autumn and try to re-frame the whole situation.

And then I walk out the front door and there are mushrooms growing on the grass. Seriously. I am not a fan of the fungus.

How about you?
Has the season changed where you are?
Do you have any sure fire ways to beat the cold weather blues?
Do you have any super soup recipes, yoga for beginners You-tubes, meditation for dummies apps?
Do you have anything fun planned for the weekend?
I hope so.

See you next week.

Love Kate
xx

On a wintry Tuesday

 


It's Tuesday and I haven't left our farm since last Friday. It's been too cold and really, there's nothing out there in the big wide world that I need.

I guess winter is the season we have been preparing for during all the others: we have a freezer stacked to the top with containers, our pantry is groaning under the weight of filled Fowlers jars and there are piles of kindling and firewood ready to burn to heat our house, dry our clothes and cook our food.

It's Tuesday and for the first time in days it's not rainy or windy or both. Today feels like one of those days where winter stops for a second and catches it's breath. It is still freezing cold but it is calm and it's still. We'll rug up to go out to feed the animals and collect the eggs, but then instead of rushing back inside to shelter, we might venture further.

We might check on the crops growing in the market garden, make plans to mulch the garlic, weed the beetroot, spray the orchard, whipper snipper between the trees, bring in another load of wood, move the chickens, pick the rhubarb and start pruning the apples.

The winter jobs might be fewer but the days are shorter and mostly nastier, so we'll study the weather forecast and work when we can.

It's Tuesday and although it's only the second day of the school holidays, I think I might get the girls all rugged up in their winter woollies and make them come outside with me too. They've been crafting up  a storm all morning but I know that a few big gulps of fresh winter air will do them so much good.

We'll run down the hill, watch the water streaming past us, listen to our boots squeak in the wet grass and chat to all the animals. It'll be so cold that our eyes and noses will sting but we'll feel alive in the iciness and it will make us run faster and scream out and sing.





It's Tuesday, the first day of July and the second month of winter.

I am not a winter person. Not at all. But I am a person who loves coming back inside after being out. I love getting the fire cranking, putting the kettle on the hot-plate, stripping off my wet weather gear, making a soup and settling in with some knitting. That I can do. That part I am good at.

Happy Tuesday lovely friends out there, what have you got planned for the day?

xxxx

listening in

I've had one of those days. Some days are wonderful, some are crappy and some days are just blah, blah-di-blah-di-blah. Today has most definitely been the latter. You know those days, nothing is quite wrong but nothing is exactly perfectly right either. It's like I've used up all my energy, and have nothing left. I've been sighing a lot.

This morning I woke up, got everyone dressed and ready and then I took myself back to bed with my knitting. I never do that. I have way too much to-do, to do that. But today I did.

At the start I felt guilty and a bit embarrassed. Especially when my farmer boy came in from fixing the tractor and my Mum came over to show me her new hair. But I couldn't help it, I felt heavy and stuck.

But then I sat there under the blankets and knitted a few rows and thought about kindness and being kind to myself and realised that I had to stay there. I had to look after myself and honour the way that I was feeling. I had no choice.

And then I felt a bit teary thinking about some of the stuff that has been going on in my world lately. Some huge life changing stuff, some house rearranging stuff, some changing of the seasons stuff, some sickness, some excitement and a lot of other bits and pieces in between. Sometimes I find having a little sob by myself feels just so sad, but also so cleansing. It's nice not to have to explain it to anyone else and just to let it all wash over me and then off and away.

After a while I got out of bed and did some things. Nothing big or bold and nothing that meant I had to get dressed. But doing nice stuff made me feel a bit better and that was good.

First I made a rainbow out of lots of odds and ends of wool. Making tidy and making pretty at the same time was always going to make me feel a bit better.

Then I picked some celery from the garden for a snack. This is the first year that we've been able to grow such great celery and eating it and running my hands over the tops of those lush green fronds is a wonderful thing.


Then I finally wove in the ends of my face washers and popped them in a parcel to post to Cath for the Bellingen ladies to pop into their Day For Girls packs. What a honour it's been to play a little part in such an important project. Thanks for organising it Cath. x



Then I looked out and found this dead bird outside my window. Poor little, tiny bird. When I went outside and picked it up I was amazed at it's weight. For some reason I had thought that it would be light as a feather but it wasn't. It felt heavy and earth-bound. I hope it had a wonderful life flying about our farm being free and fabulous and died in its sleep and not from hitting our window.




Then I took some pics of all my motifs so far. What a wonderful project it's been. The crocheting time, the thinking time, the zoning out time, the patterns and colours and cottons. 21 motifs made, 10 to go, I'm going to miss this project when the month is done.


Then I did some clearing and cleaning up of my new crafty office space, more on that later, and came across this photo of another time and place. Only about seven years ago but a lifetime ago all the same. I miss those times and those smiling faces. (I'm sobbing again…..)


Then I picked some leeks for dinner. I planted so many leeks this year and now we need the space - every 'what's for dinner?' question works its way back from leeks.

And then I ended up back where I started, writing my blog in bed with my knitting for company when the words needed time.

In the end I had a difficult but surprisingly lovely day. The outside jobs never happened, I didn't do nearly as much as I'd hoped to inside either, but I listened to what was going on with me internally and I honoured that and was kind. Tomorrow I'll be better off for it.

Sending love and kindness out to you guys wherever you are, whatever you are doing.

xx