Following my Friday...

Most Fridays I have a chunk of time where I am all by myself. Alone! The girls are out and away, farmer Bren is off being a farmer somewhere and I have the house all to myself. It's quiet. I can think.

Sometimes I have something urgent to attend to and get stuck straight into it, but most Fridays when I come back home after drop off into a quiet house, I notice the luxury of a few hours of time stetching ahead of me. And that time feels like opportunities. It feel precious.

Time to spend as I choose. Time to think thoughts all the way through. Time to start, comtinue or finish things. And time to breath.

I love Fridays. I feel like they prepare me for the craziness of the weekend ahead and give me time to do what I want to do. Fridays feel like a luxury.

This morning after I came home and put the breakfast dishes away and a load of washing on, I walked around slowly contemplating my day. I could do so many things...

I could could attend to that pile of fabric scraps that have been calling out to me all week. I could draw a pattern on them, cut them out, and stitch them back together again into some bunting, or a quilt, or some curtains or a dress...

I could spend some time in the kitchen garden weeding and watering and thinning and planting....

I could sit down and knit a few rows of the second sleeve of my red cardi. I am so close to the end now and I just want to wear it...

I could plant some of these guys in the poly tunnel and some down in the market garden....

I could write. Oh I have so much I need to write...

I could rush around and vacuum and sweep and mop and launder my house and make it look all gorgeous and sparkly for the weekend.

Or I could make a cup of tea and stop for a while and smell the roses. Roses my gang gave me for mothers' day this year. Roses from rose bushes that are the only non edible, not useful, just pretty, things we have ever planted on our farm....

Or I could bake some bread...spelt and wholemeal and rye...maybe...

Or I could sit down and load some photos and write a blog about all the things I might do, I could do, I want to do...and then I can decide...

But whatever I choose to do I'd better get to it quickly because these monkeys of mine will be home with all their fun and chaos before I know it. My quiet Friday will be over for another week...

And as I am about to press publish I can hear my washing machine beeping at me telling me to hang out it's load. Maybe I'll just let my day lead me where ever it wants me to go...maybe...


Are you leading your day or are you following it around?
Are you sewing or cooking or cleaning or gardening?
What are you up to?
Are you happy?
Is the sun shinning over there?

I hope you have the most fabulous weekend.
Ours is a bit hectic but should be lots of fun.

See ya's! xx

justification.

Because it is killing me that Miss Pepper, my colourful, stripey tights, odd gumboots kid will have to wear a school uniform soon.

Because I have a very full on dead line coming up.

Because I would rather sew than have a clean house. I wish it weren't so.

Because I've never sewn her a size 5 dress before.

Because I was embarrassed when my studio builder asked me how much fabric I actually have.

Because there are 4820 things ahead of 'make a dress' on my to-do list.

Because I can.

Because I know she'll love it.

Because it is a mix of old and new fabrics that have sat around in my stash forever.

Because our 11 o'clock appointment didn't show up and I had some extra time in my day.

Because every five year old girl should have a colourful twirly dress, don't you think?

Because after a weekend spent looking after four 12 year-olds, it was such a treat to do something just for me.

Because listening to The Moth podcasts and cutting and sewing bits of fabric together is one of the best ways I know to spend some time.

Because some times when I wonder how I will fill up my time next year, I think I might sew and I had to be certain I still like to.

Because it's spring time and there is hardly any sewing time.

Just because.

How about you?
Are you a justificator?
Should you be doing something else right now?
When was the last time you said 'stuff it' and did something just for the fun of it?
Do you think I could pull off a mixy-matchy dress too?

I'm off to pick broad beans for dinner.

Later. 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.

Sweet dream. x

Last night I dreamt of a long table in a large warehouse type cafe.

I was sitting down one end of the table deep in conversation with my Indi. We were discussing life and feelings and age and opportunity. We were completely focused inwards on our little world not at all aware of the hustle and clutter of the rest of the cafe.

At some stage and for some reason I took a breath and looked up and noticed a couple opposite us with a tiny baby, maybe three days old. The father was holding the baby, his arms like a cocoon, and the mother was hunched over weeping into her coffee.

It was weird but I recognised those sobbing, shaking shoulders. I knew those big, fat, swollen tears falling onto her lap and I felt that overwhelmed, out of control, helpless feeling I knew she was feeling. Well.

It was like I was her again. The brand new first time Mum on the way home from hospital with our new baby who we were besotted with. I was deeply, madly in love with our new family but also overwhelmed with the enormity of it all. Everything was new. I was exhausted. I could almost feel my shoulders bobbing in time with her sobs.

And at the same time I was also still me. Me sitting there on the other side of the table with my almost twelve year old. My child who made me into a mother all those years ago and now sat with me on the verge of woman hood. My big girl who taught me almost everything I know about parenting and now hung out with me as friends. My angel who by chance and accident and luck and a whole lot of love is becoming someone I am so incredibly proud of.

And then all of a sudden the woman opposite stood up and fled the room. And he, so obviously torn between his adoration of the tiny package in his arms and the love of his life who he knew needed him now more than ever, stood up and froze for a second.

And then he handed the baby to me, looked at me with pleading desperate eyes, gushed that he'd be back in a sec and ran out after her.

And then it was me and Indi and the tiniest, most sweet smelling bundle of sleeping baby.

We sat there for a second, frozen. And then my Indi asked me what words I could tell them to comfort them? How could I make them see through the haze of hormones and breast milk and nappies and exhaustion? And we sat there for a while gazing at and breathing in that perfect bundle. I wondered what she was thinking while I was contemplating my words that would come across as comforting rather than advising.

After a few minutes they returned. They took their baby, apologised for their tears and drama and thanked us. They couldn't keep their eyes off their baby and really didn't look like they needed any help from me at all.

So I took a deep breath and thanked them for letting us cuddle their most gorgeous baby. And I told them that I had been where they were almost twelve years ago to the day. That I remembered all those feeling so well. And that it would get easier and then harder and then easier again as time went on and then one day they too would be sitting with a twelve year old. A girl they could barely believe was that tiny baby not so many years ago. And a girl they would be so super proud of, and so in awe of and so honoured to share in her journey.

And in my dream we all hugged like old friends. And then they walked out to start their new life as a family and we walked out a bit sad to leave that little baby bubble but excited about all the new opportunities waiting for us.


It's been ages since I've remembered so much of a dream and so much detail. This one has haunted me all morning. When I retold it to Indi on the way to school this morning she said she felt like crying. I'm still trying to work it all out. I'm pretty sure it's about letting go and accepting and looking forward. I think it was a bit of a gift.

Are you a dreamer?
A remember-er?
An interpreter?

Oh and that photo at the top? A few weeks ago I went to the wonderful Beci Orpin's book launch and was lucky enough to get a show bag full of goodies to take home. In amongst the candle and notebook and hand cream and stuff were three gorgeous gorman place mats.

And while I am a lover of beautiful home wares, place mats which collect dropped food and then just have to be washed seem a bit silly to me.

So I turned the spotty one into a skirt.

I think the other two will become bits of clothing before too long too.

Such fun and perfectly springly teamed with a pair of OK OK tights don't you think.

Sweet dreams.
Bye! xx

Magic hour..

I feel like I could fill my whole blog up with twilight stories.

With tales of after dinner adventuring. Of leaving the dishes in the sink along with the chaos of deadlines and homework and walking out the front door and down the hill. Or over the hill to the back paddock. Or down through the top orchard.

This magical time of the day is fast becoming my favourite time of the day.

Mostly we have no plan. We wander.

We watch the screeching cockatoos landing in a nearby tree and the ducks on the dam scatter as we draw close. We pretend we are flower girls and frogs and scary monsters. We notice the crazy amount of fruit set on the apple trees and greet the barking Maremmas as they warn us to leave their chookies alone.

We sit in the freshly plowed paddock for a while and test for moisture content. We try not to get too excited at the prospect of growing vegies for sale again, it's been a while and we are wary. But we love the look of the newly turned earth and we feel like real farmers again.

We fall in so many holes because of the long grass.

And we climb stuff. Chook feeders and stumps and anything climbable really.

And we chuck stones in the creek and hit things with sticks and pick bunches of clover.

And we call out to Jo-Jo to stop chasing kangaroos, to come back to us, to leave them alone. And he runs fast and his furry ears flap up and down. And we shout and shout and eventually he comes back for a scratch and a cuddle.

And we hold hands and we talk and we listen.

And we can really hear because we have left all the crap up at the house and we are only present in the moment.

It is the most beautiful moment. And I know I probably shouldn't break it with lots of picture taking but I can't help it. I need to hold on to it. To keep it. It is mine. Ours.

And eventually the light fades and we make our way back up to the house for bed time. Mostly we walk, sometimes the smallest gets a piggy back or a tractor ride.

And when we come inside the stresses are still there where we left them, but they look different somehow. Less enormous, conquerable or at least manageable.

The twilight walk seems to have magic powers. I love it.


I hope you have the most gorgeous weekend lovely peeps.

We'll be at Collingwood Children's Farm farmers' market on Saturday. Why don't you come down and say hi. We'd love to see you.

Bye! xx

Knitting fans.

I am such a sucker for a beautifully styled 'how to' book. I don't care if it's a knitting, gardening, sewing, cooking or crochet book, if it has gorgeous photos and instructions, I am in.

I found this gorgeous book a few months ago in Melbourne. It was love at first sight. Gorgeous hard back, stunning photos, and perfect projects and patterns sized to fit two of my girlies. I pored over its pages for ages. Front to back, back to front. I tried to work out how many of the patterns I was likely to actually knit and for who and with what yarn.

And then I popped it back on the shelf between the other knitting books and walked away.

I really didn't need anther knitting book. I have hundreds of items in my ravelry queue and hundreds more in my head and in books I already own. And most importantly, I am not a fan of the seamed knit and that is what this book is full of.

But over the next few days I couldn't get that book and those patterns and that style out of my head. I longed for it.

And as luck would have it on the way home to Daylesford a few days later, we stopped in at a book shop/cafe for lunch and there it was, sitting on the shelf, patiently waiting for me. It was meant to be. And I promised myself I would knit from it often to justify my purchase, seams and all.

So the second I cast off what I was working on, I chose a pattern, some wool and cast on.

A much wanted and needed cardi for Miss Jazzy. Wool and pattern chosen herself.

And to be honest, the pattern was incredibly difficult for me to follow. There were not enough instructions and I found myself guessing and unravelling and re knitting a lot of the time. There may have been some swearing too.

But I persevered. I had a bee in my bonnet about that book. And that pattern. And the way my Jazzy would look wearing it.

And then finally one day after knitting the four bits and sewing them together. After crocheting all around the entire garment. And after blocking it lightly with a steam iron. Miss Jazzy tried it on...

And she couldn't move.

Even though I had knitted a size older than she usually measured, it was so tight across the back and under the arms that she struggled to even get it off.

All I can say is lucky Miss Pepper was more than happy to try it on.

Phew!

I think I'll stick to knitting in the round so we can actually try the garments on as I go in the future. And I think I'll knit Jazzy's next cardi from a pattern from a designer I know and have knitted before.

Fan Stitch cardi ravelled here.

Are you a sucker for a styled book?
Which type of book can you never resist?
Are you having a lovely day?
Are you being creative?
I hope so.

Later lovelies. x

I say tomato.

Around where I live almost everyone has a vegie garden. Some people grow loads of fruit and veg, enough to feed whole families. Some grow enough to eat and preserve for a lot of the season. While others grow little bits and pieces, enough to supplement their meals, or to add a little flavour.

I love living near a rural town. I love that the conversations down the street change according to the season. Early in the year we might have discussed ripening corn or what to do with all that zucchini, then apple harvests, then preserving, then broccoli recipes and now tomatoes.

When I popped into the fruit and veg shop today to deliver eggs, the friends I bumped into had dirt under their finger nails just like I did. We discussed the old local theory that it is safe to plant tomatoes out after Melbourne Cup Day (yesterday) and we chatted about varieties and quantities.

I planted hundreds of teeny-tiny seeds into seed trays of home made seed raising mix in the hot house a few months ago. Then as each seedling rose up out of the mix and grew four leaves, I transplanted it to its own little tube full of compost. Some times I planted straight into pots.

I adore this work. This fussing and pottering over my future tomatoes. The hot house is right next to our house so I can escape for a few minutes at a time and sometimes for hours. It's almost like meditation. Filling pots, pricking out seedlings, making a hole with a chopstick and then carefully replanting being careful to cover the roots and relabeling.

And then today, being the day after Melbourne cup day and a cool enough day to work in the poly-tunnel, we carried a whole lot of the tomato pots over to the poly tunnel, ran some irrigation lines down the sides, and set to planting, fertilising and then watering.

Miss Pepper worked along side me and was boss of the worms, collecting chicken feathers out of the straw and was chief water-inerer.

I guess at some stage soon I'll be brave enough to plant some of my babies outside too, but at the moment all I can think of is that year we had a frost at Christmas time. I'm thinking we might have to put up the other hot house soon.

I'm thinking I just love this time of year. Everything is green and bursting with growth and promise of a wonderful season.

What's it like in your town?
Are you discussing your tomatoes with everyone who stands still long enough to listen?
Do you have a Cup-Day type rule?
Are you loving your season?
Do you say tomaydo or tomarto?

Ciao chickens. x