missing may

Hello friends,

How are you? How's your week been?

Late last week I got a message from a reader questioning something I'd written on my blog. Or rather questioning a world event I'd chosen not to mention. To omit.

It wasn't from anyone who regularly contributes to the comment section on my blog. And it wasn't written in an attacking manner. It was fine really. But for some reason it really stuck in my mind and I couldn't let it go.

The first part was me continuing to ask myself the same question she had asked me. Why did I decide recently to talk about the Christchurch mosque shootings while failing to make mention of other horrific world events since? How do I make the decision of what to include and what not to? What is the tone of this blog and what sort of issues do I want to make mention of or to discuss? Is it okay anymore to write a personal blog about life in my little bubble, or do I have a responsibility to the world to acknowledge events and politics and to take a stance? And what if I don't always feel comfortable with that?

And I guess the second part is that if this is my personal blog, how is it fair that other people get to question what I choose to blog about? I do know that I'm being naive and that the way the online world works these days is that everyone gets to judge and opine and question. I also know that I am sosososososososososososososososososososo lucky and unusual that a simple, polite question is as tough as it gets when there is so much hatred out there. I can list the negative comments I've received over the past 10 years on two hands (and this recent comment definitely isn't one of them). I'm sure that's virtually unheard of. But having said that I do miss the golden olden days of blogs past when we shared so much of ourselves and were constantly inundated with kindness and compassion and encouragement.

Over the past few years the number of blogs being written has diminished, blog interaction has diminished, my readership has diminished, and let's face it - being a mum of teenagers - the things I can blog about have diminished. So what do I talk about? Who is my blog?

I've had all of these questions and thoughts sloshing around my head all week only to be further confused when a brand that we believe in ethically and ideologically, a brand we buy and use regularly, contacted me to work with them. I've never written sponsored content before but it did make me wonder whether using this space to spread the word about good people and companies would help me feel more at ease with all of these issues. Not to mention allowing my words and images to pay for the time it takes to create them. I don't think so but it's been interesting to think about.

Anyway the point is I woke up this morning and didn't feel like blogging. I know how much my blog posts mean to Indi while she is so far away, and I was lucky enough to have some photos taken yesterday as a starting point, but other than that I felt stuck. I still do.

In this great big online world of experts and hash-tags and people shouting to be heard, I feel like I need some time out to think about who my blog is, what it stands for, and what it needs to look like moving into the future. It interests me that I've come to this point only weeks away from my June 23 ten years anniversary of this blog.

Gosh it feels weird and a bit cringe-worthy to look back at my first blog post now. To remember myself wanting to move away from farm blogging and to find myself a place in the online craft world. It's funny to read my definite statement that I would try any craft but NEVER ceramics. And it's amazing to have those memories of sitting by the girls' baths and in school assemblies crocheting, of those sweet little embroidered tops I used to make and they used to wear, and to remember how excited and inspired I felt at the discovery of the craft blogging world. How many craft blogs there seemed to be. And the promise of the community within them.

Things have changed. Of course they have. From the big wide real world, to the online world, to my little family world. I guess now I need to work out where my blog fits in with all of that.

So I think I'm going to go against the blog-every-day-in-May of the past few years and give May a miss this year.

Hopefully I'll see you again in June.

I hope your May is extremely lovely.

See you soon.

Love, Kate xx


PS sorry Indi (this would be a great time for a guest blog though??)
PPS for some reason blogger won't let me reply to your comments on last week's post. Weird. But maybe a push to move platforms finally.

photos of flowers and things

The other morning when we came inside for breakfast after taking the girls to their schools, stacking a load of firewood in the woodshed and bottling up 12 jars of tomatoes sauce for the Fowlers machine, Farmer Bren looked at me and said 'I get it, this is who we are. This is what we do. This is our life'. 

I guess when you're so deeply involved in what you do sometimes it's hard to remember that not everyone is doing it the same way as you. Not everyone grows a lot of their food from tiny seeds; not everyone makes their muesli from the contents of about 15 jars each morning; not everyone lives so far from their closest neighbours that if they went outside and screamed as loudly as they could no-one would hear them; not everyone could have their growing season ended by one surprise weather event; not everyone uses fire to heat their houses and cook on; not everyone has a kitchen floor that's covered with crates full of autumn bounty ready to be preserved; not everyone only ever eats cucumbers and tomatoes when they are in season; and not everyone owns two pairs of the same boots - one for work and one for town.

There are some things about our world that probably sound so foreign to some people, like the fact that we have a mob of about 50 kangaroos that live on our property and most of the time don't bother us, but sometimes tear the nets in the orchards and eat all the apples. I'm sure there are koalas here too, although I've only ever seen one.

And lots of things I do feel terribly ordinary, like looking at my phone too much, trying to problem-solve for my kids a lot, and boring old housework (only ever the minimum I can get away with though).

I don't actually know what this is all about. My head's a bit cloudy today. I guess what Bren said, plus the messages you guys send me often telling me how different my world is to yours, reminds me to notice the special bits, encourages me to remember the choices we've made, and allows me to see the beauty.

I think that's enough words for today. I'll let the pictures tell the story.

I'd love you to tell me a bit about how your world differs from mine, or from those around you. It doesn't need to be big, just anything really.

Wishing you a happy International Women's Day!

And a fabulous weekend.

See you next week.

Love, Kate x

with arms full of flowers

Last Friday at around 5 in the afternoon my dad came home from a trip to Melbourne with my fixed up and updated computer. 'Are you going to write your blog today?' he asked me as he handed it over. My computer had been sitting in a shop in Melbourne all week and I'd barely thought about it at all. I knew it was coming home late Friday and assumed I wouldn't have time to create a blog post so I planned my whole day without it, and when he asked I replied 'nope, I'll be back to blogging next week.' 

It's interesting how powerful our mindset is. Only after I'd thought about his question later did I realise that in retrospect I probably could have knocked something together. If I'd known it would be back in the afternoon I could have done everything early and then sat down to write it late. And more than that I would have been thinking about it and collecting stories and thoughts all week in preparation. But my mind wasn't in that state, and I had nothing, so I didn't.

But now that it's a week later, and I do, I am.

Last Saturday after an argument with someone in my family, I was presented with an apology and a big bunch of flowers picked from my own garden. One of each variety of flower and seed pod that we grow. I've made and received plenty of apologies in my lifetime, but I don't think any has ever felt so meaningful and looked so beautiful. 

Last Sunday, actually every single day, I have this routine where first thing in the morning and last thing at night before it gets dark, I walk up and down every row of the garden. I admire the new, I deadhead the old, I tie up anything loose, I harvest the ripe, I watch for any pests, I squish caterpillars and slugs, I sing, or chat or just listen, I try to take it all in and notice everything, I breathe, I fill my cup.

Last Monday I was walking back to the car-park after the school drop off with a mum I'd just met. Her oldest just started his first year of primary school this year, while my youngest just started her last. As we walked we swapped little details of our lives; how long we've lived here, our other children's names, what else we juggle along with mothering.

As we arrived at her car she slid open the door to reveal a row of child seats and it surprised me. Then it occurred to me that it's been ages since I've buckled one of mine in. It's funny how something that's part of your life for so many years can look so strange and alien when you've gone past it and left it behind.

And then I went one step further and thought that not only has my back-seat booster-seat period disappeared, but now I have a child that could legally drive that car. Wow!

I'm not sure this story feels so profound a few days later now that I'm writing it down, but last Monday after we'd said our goodbyes and she'd driven off, I sat in my car for a few minutes and contemplated the stage of mothering that I'm in. It all feels very grown up and big.

Last Tuesday, and every other day, Indi has been texting us stories and sending us photos of her wonderful worldy adventures. It's a crazy feeling to live with someone under the same roof for 18 years and then watch as they travel off to make an independent life on the other side of the globe. It's wonderful to watch the world through her eyes, it's interesting to see her style evolve as she captures her surroundings, it's heartwarming to see her beautiful smile, it's fascinating to hear her stories, and as with all her firsts - it's taking me back to the people and the places and the adventures I had when I was her age doing a similar thing. Of course I miss her like crazy but much stronger than that is my sense of joy and delight for her, and pride and awe of her.

Last Tuesday one of us decided that the new dynamic of four in the family was too difficult to navigate so she went down the hill to stay with my parents for a few days.

It's funny, while the bare bones of our family life are still the same - schooling, farming, eating, home-working, preserving, growing, music-ing, driving...the details are all different. There's one less plate on the table, there's one less pile of washing, there's one less story, there's less drawing, there's one less guitar being played, there's one less person in the shower queue, there's no-one to tell you which shoes to wear, no one talks about Shawn, sometimes there's just no-one else who understands.

It's early days still and I'm sure we'll all get used to our new normal I just hope our little wanderer knows how much we adore her and miss her. And I'm also ridiculously grateful to have my parents at the bottom of our hill to pick up the pieces and to spoil the runaways when a little bit of extra love and care is needed.

Last Wednesday I sat together my farmer boy in the sun-room and had a discussion about all the things we're struggling with. Nothing major, just the day to day stuff like water, and farming, and aging, and sickness, and time, and moods, and housework, and caterpillars, and wanting to be 18 again with nothing but a backpack traveling the world.

Last Thursday morning we dropped Jazzy at school and caught a train into the city. We ate breakfast for lunch, we visited the Escher x Nendo exhibition at The NGV, we strolled around holding hands and people watching, and then we headed back home feeling lighter and brighter and more capable of dealing with things.

It's amazing what a difference a day made.

Which brings us right back to Friday, today!

I'm reading and loving Preservation by Jock Serong, a few days after Indi left I cast on a pair of socks as knitting comfort and I'm slowly working away on them, I'm listening to It's Not A Race podcast, we finished the last episode of Russian Dolls last night and wish there was a second season, we're listening to a lot of very old James Taylor, and we're eating loads of tomatoes, cucumbers, beans, carrots, onions, lettuce, plums, apples, zucchini, silverbeet, berries and herbs.

It's pretty nice to be back here. Sitting up on the daybed looking out on the forest, typing away on my fixed up and quiet computer, thinking about my week that's just gone.

Thank you for your messages and your kindness and patience.

If all goes to plan I'll see you again next Friday.

Until then why don't you fill me in on what's been going on for you.
How are you feeling about things?
Have you settled into the new year's routine yet?
Do you sometimes get a glimpse of who you are and get a surprise?
Do you have something fun planned for this weekend?

Bye!

x

endings + beginnings

There's a change in the air, can you feel it? The days are growing shorter, the shadows are lower, the mornings smell smokey and damp, my workboots are always wet and muddy no matter what I've been doing, the granny smith apples are edible even if they're not yet quite ripe and our hot water bottles have been pulled off the shelf and lined up on the bench for filling. I'm trying so hard not to get caught up in the day to day minutiae, but to live in the moment and notice all the endings and beginnings.

This week Bren and Jobbo put the finishing touches on the sun-room extension just in time for us to catch the autumn rays. It's hard to believe that a few months ago this part of the house was my least favourite; all ugly brown bricks, overgrown lavender and blackberry, in the shadow of the carport. Over the past few days we've started filling the end bit with fire wood, we've brought in some furniture and I've potted up some plants. Now it's my favourite spot to eat breakfast, to drink coffee and read, and to sit with my farmer boy in the late afternoon and admire the view while we discuss the dreaded 'what's for dinner'.

My studio build is next, watch this space.

Last weekend a rain and wind storm threatened so we tied up the flowers with star stakes and bailing twine. Overnight an inch of rain fell and the heavy, water-swollen flower heads drooped to the ground and broke their stems. The next morning while I wandered from bush to bush cutting them off I wondered if perhaps our dry season had been a blessing. Being our first flower growing year I have no idea if December and January stems are stronger and hold weight better than these tail-end bendy ones, or if it's always a problem. But I filled a wheelbarrow and hoped that all the buds that I left on the bushes would get a chance for another show before the frosts start and finish off our season.

While I know the time for colour in the garden is slowly fading, I'm desperately filling up the green-house and sun-rooms with pots of colour, hoping we can keep some things flowering in these protected spaces all the way through.

We've been picking Jonathans, Red Delicious and Braeburn apples for us, for the farm gate stall and for the new Daylesford Sunday Farmer's Market.

We've been loving all the very late season blooms that have decided to burst into flower just before the season ends. Hello Breannon!

I'm still amazed by this view and by the fact that this time last year this space was still occupied by two long, very ugly, poly tunnels. All too soon I know that the flowers will die down, the potatoes and pumpkins will come out and it won't look nearly as gorgeous, but until then there's still this picture that stops me in my tracks every single time.

And looking in the opposite direction (shame about the blue bailing twine).

And the zinnias! The gift that kept on giving all season long. I spent a few hours with them the other day; snipping off the dead-heads, cutting out the powdery mildew and tying them up, and look how they're rewarding me. New buds and fresh blooms every day. The beginner flower farmer's dream.

Although we're still picking crates and crates of tomatoes out of the field, their smell and texture has changed. They're still great for eating raw, but the smell of the sauce they make when cooked makes me gag. In order to overcome this problem we've started separating the varieties as we pick them so we can experiment, but still I feel like the season is ending. I think we'll sell the round tomatoes at market this week and sit happily with the 112 bottles of sauce on the shelf.

Chrysanthemums are another type of flower we've never grown before and I'm completely smitten with them. Every time I go out to the garden I find myself standing above them checking on each unfurling petal. I'd love to pick a bunch for the house but I don't want to interrupt their natural growth. Such beauties.

And as this growing season draws to a close we're thinking of the next. Collecting seed, ordering seed, starting to germinate seed and thinking about what worked and what didn't, making plans for next year's garden and being amazed by how much more interest and patience I have for the flowers than I ever had for the vegetables. I look forward to watching what happens to each plant as winter draws near and then to start all over again next year. Imagine how exciting it'll be when all the bulbs start popping their heads out of the ground in spring. 

I'd better get off my bum and go and plant them.

I don't have a photo of my knitting but it's interesting to note that as the seasons change so have my interests. For a while I've been skipping past all the knitting and yarn pictures on instagram and focusing on the gardens and farms. It even occurred to me once not long ago that I might not be a knitter anymore and may need to sell off all my wool. But all of a sudden this week I had a burning itch to cast off my Mirehouse sweater and cast on something new. I logged into Ravelry account for the first time in ages and I started dreaming of all the snuggly knits I could get onto my needles. I guess knitting for me is seasonal too. Hopefully I'll get some pictures of my Mirehouse to show you this weekend. It's pretty cozy.

And that my friends is where I'm at. Finishing one season and starting the next. Although I just had a look at the weather forecast and it seems that these bright, sunny days are set to continue for at least another week.

Tell me what it's like where you are. Are you busy planting your garden or pulling it out? Are you piling on the clothing layers or pulling them off? Are you eating salads or stews? Picking the last of the tomatoes or planting them out?

Wishing you a wonderful weekend.

See you next week.

Love, Kate x

two autumn hours

It's autumn, the sky is white and overcast, there is a sticky fruit smell in the air, and I'm wearing a cardigan.

This morning on the way home from dropping Pepper at school I had a little panic about the fact that I had no idea what to write my blog about today, and not one single photo from the week on my camera. What to post about? What to say?

For so much of the year we're looking after the plants and trees hoping that eventually they'll look after us. For so much of the year we're waiting and watching. For so much of the year being a farmer feels like just another word to describe a problem solver. And for so much of the year we're dreaming of arms and baskets and crates full of produce. Of compot, and pesto and fritters, oh my.

And then BAM we're here! Harvest-time!

In one day last week I found myself picking hazelnuts, tomatoes, cucumbers, basil, apples, plums, nectarines, nashis, grapes, zucchini, cabbages, onions and a bunch of flowers. On another day I squished hundreds of tomatoes and made sauce, I halved and froze plums, I stewed a crate of nectarines, fermented some cucumbers, made dried apple rings and plum leather. My head is spinning.

It's crazy. There's a queue of black crates filled with produce by the front door waiting for me to process them and the overflow is covering the kitchen table.

I keep thinking about how great it would be if the harvest was spread out over the whole year instead of just a few weeks. But it's not, so I'm running with it; trying to remember that for the next year I'll dream of picking a sun warmed plum straight off the tree, I'll wish for a nashi grabbed in a rush on the way to school, a lunchbox filled with garden goodness, afternoon tea picked greedily off the vine. It's a crazy and colourful and sticky time of the year, it feels bountiful and lucky and I'm so happy to be here at long last.

So this week my blog is a two hour view into that crazy. I took each one of these photos between 9 and 11am this morning and I think they can give you a little  glimpse into our world.

While we're picking and preserving like crazy, we're also preparing for winter by filling up the green-house with vegetable and flower seeds.

We're watching the decline of our amazing zinnia crop and noticing that the bees don't seem to mind. Hopefully we'll collect lots of seeds for next season's flowers before we pull the whole row.

We're always watching and learning and admiring.

I bought a bag of mystery dahlia tubers from our local fruit and vegetable shop last spring, I'm so excited that they're finally flowering.

There's a row of perennial flowers right up the top of this garden that doesn't have its irrigation connected yet. I love those few minutes every day when I can stand hose in hand giving them a drink, checking on their progress, pulling a few weeds and then standing back up again to look at this beautiful, colourful view.

I don't know the proper names for most things in our garden, but I've been with them from the time they were tiny seeds, to a few leaves, all the way through to their buds and flowers. I've watched them and encouraged them every step of the way. And now I'm so proud of them. I really am.

When we first started talking about growing rows of flowers I dreamt of taking photos of our girls in the late afternoon light, wearing sun-dresses and carrying armfuls. I'd better get my act together now it's autumn, while there's still sun and colour and a bounty of blooms.

I'm obsessing over our nashis. Gosh I love them. I think I ate about eight yesterday.

I'm loving all those baby scarlet runner beans.

We're always cutting big bunches of flowers.

You know it never occurred to me that the art of flower arranging may be a little elusive to me. I think I thought that the flowers would lead me, as would all the millions of pictures of arrangements I've looked at in my time. But I'm here to tell you that it hasn't been as simple as I'd thought. Sometimes it does come together quickly and looks like the beautiful posy I'd pictured in my mind. But other times have found me pulling bits out and sticking them back in so many times that the stems get bent and the leaves start to droop and I wonder what made me think I could do this in the first place.

I've found the best way for me to practise is to have a few vases on the go and to add and subtract over the day each time I walk past them. It's been fun to try my hand at round posies as well as the more asymmetrical, sprawling arrangements. 

I'd love to do a flower arranging class or 10 at some stage. Maybe later in the year.

And of course we're picking apples.

Galas this morning.

Picking bags full.

And crates full.

While watching the other varieties carefully.

Coxs Orange Pippins will be next and shortly followed by Red Delicious.

We picked Abas yesterday.

And we're finally filling the little stall at the front of our farm. Yay! It's so exciting to throw open those doors, fill the shelves and invite the people in.

I can't tell you how much it pleases me to know that the apples we've been picking are going straight into the shopping bags of our lovely customers. There are no trucks, no cold-stores, no middle-men, no retail mark-ups, no-one to notice if you're in your pyjamas - just fruit (and hopefully flowers soon), all grown by us, picked by us, certified organic and most importantly DELICIOUS!!

If you are local, if you are passing by, or if you've been dreaming of a day-trip to our lovely area - please pop by.

We're at Daylesford Organics - 19 Foxs Lane Muskvale

All the apples are $6kg, please bring correct change and your own shopping bag.


And that's me for the week!
I'd better get dressed now, we're off to a picnic at the big girls' school.

How have you been anyway?
Have you had a good week?
What are you picking from your garden?
Are you a good flower arranger?
What were you up to between 9 and 11am this morning?

I hope you have a gorgeous sunshiny weekend.

Lots of love,

Kate x

ps. thanks so much for all of your sleep remedies, support and suggestions,  I've made a list and am slowly working through it. x