The beginnings of winter at the Cottage

For a whole season, we let the weeds take over.

Then there was a frenzy of digging and composting, and the turning in of stinky things; more seeds bought and planted in homemade origami seed pots; extra, more temperamental seedlings sought and planted; and for a whole week, the sweet smell of sugar cane mulch made the garden a delight to walk and play in.

We’ve had rain and sun and growth, and are now on the cusp of an early harvest. And it’s my absolute favourite part of planting an edible garden – the time where it’s at an almost - when the idea of picking snow peas or ruby-red cherry tomatoes or crisp sweet lettuce leaves becomes a delightful daily task.

Just in the last week, our chickens have realised that it’s a variable gold mine in the front garden, and have been squeezing through fence palings to snack on the tender spinach leaves, and to scratch away in the wormy soil. And Ella, our mastiff, often too arthritic to get up and chase them, has taken to watching and growling from the comfort of her heavily bedded kennel. It’s an unpredictable situation; but because it takes Ella a couple of minutes to actually get up (poor dog), the chickens have a head start in escaping; and it gives me the opportunity to play Pied Piper, leading them out onto the footpath and down the road to the chicken run gate, luring with overripe melon rinds or (if desperate) grapes – their absolute favourite - in the scrap bowl.

I love this time of year; it makes me want to knit and read, doze in front of a roaring  fire, and drink hot chocolate with marshmallows, or steaming cups of tea.

And bake - which I guess isn’t unusual.

Why, just yesterday, because it was raining and cold and a little miserable, I made a big batch of fluffy golden scones (with lashings of double cream and strawberry jam, of course); pumpkin bread, with a whole heap of sharp parmesan and chives from the garden added in for good measure; and a mixed spice and pear cake (which was supposed to be drenched in lovely warm butterscotch sauce; but after three-and-a-bit hours fussing in the kitchen, I was entirely cooked out. Ice-cream instead). The whole house was delicious smelling and warm all afternoon, and it was the perfect way to end a cold weekend.

How have you been?

Nat

Ps. The loveliest thing: our apple and cherry Tea Party Tart was part of an apple feature in the gorgeous June edition of Peppermint magazine; and our dashing Heroic Henry slipped into the pages of the June edition of Shopping 4 Baby magazine; and our gorgeous Helpful Harriet graced the online pages of Peppermint to advertise a twinking twilight market for BrisStyle! It’s the best and loveliest reward for months of planning and testing and making and selling.

   

Starting again

Image from Heart Box Studio

A whole month has passed since I’ve been back to blog about the things that are happening in our world. Part of it was a choice; part was because busyness and the mayhem of motherhood  sometimes gets in the way of quiet reflective writing; and part of it was because sometimes it’s so tricky being creative in every sphere of your life – in real life, home life, and online life.

I think I was a bit worn out.

But, I have been thinking about our little blog a lot, and about what I want from it; and I’ve come to realise just how much pressure I placed on it to perform and to build and generate some kind of following; which is quite a difficult thing to do, considering how many beautiful and creative blogs there are out there. I also got in the habit of making a whole lot of unconscious comparisons with tonnes of amazing and successful blogs, which made it tricky to write what was from my heart. There were many, many times that I deleted posts that I wrote with love, because I worried about how readers would respond – or if they’d respond at all.

So, this is me starting again: without the worry of comments or content or followers or whether or not my posts are being read; embracing the wonder and sweetness of childhood through the eyes of my children; celebrating family, delicious food, all things handmade, the warmth of the sun and the weeds in my kitchen garden, togetherness, sewing, tea, cake, and the loveliness of friendship.

I’m a big fan of new beginnings.

Thanks for sticking around, dear readers – I’m so glad you’re here.

Nat

The Giving Heart

I had a moment with Judah during the week.

We were watching the news as a family while eating dinner – which almost never happens in our house because of all the violence and death and bad news that you tend to be bombarded with. But, I’d been a bit out of touch with what was going on in our world, and thought it might be a good idea to play catch up.

The kids were talking about bacon and trying to out-sing eachother in nursery rhymes; and a story came on about babies and young children dying in Yemen from starvation. Dave and I watched these small, skeletal babies in hospital, unable to keep any food down, and their mothers, their hearts breaking, desperate to prevent their children from slowly starving to death. No food, no milk, no jobs, and no money.

During the piece, Judah stropped singing, and watched intently; there was a moment where I almost got up and turned it off, but I didn’t. And when it finished, his questions began.

Why are those babies so sick?

Why can’t his mummy give him food so that he can be strong?

Does his daddy have a job?

Why doesn’t his Grannie give him food?

Is the doctor fixing him?

Why are the people fighting where he is?

Dave and I very slowly and carefully answered his queries, and explained the best way that we could - which is a tricky thing when your listener is only nearly four years old. I didn’t want him to be frightened, or to be overwhelmed – and I would have gladly held off on such a discussion for another three years until his understanding of the world and his place in it grew.

But, there we were, sitting at the table and talking to our boy about big things.

And while my heart was saddened for the loss of the beautiful way that he viewed the world, Judah’s compassionate heart sought to find a way to help:

Can I take the little baby my dinner so he can grow big and strong?

No sweetheart, that babe lives a very long way away. He’s in the hospital, and the doctors are helping him the best way that they can, I said.

Then I will get on three planes and walk to where he is and find all the food and give it to him so that he can be strong, he said with determination.

I was so proud of him.

Since then, we’ve had a (Judah initiated and very gently explained) daily conversation about that little baby and children in need; and while he is broadening in his understanding, he’s also interested in finding solutions and ways in which we can help. So this morning, I suggested that we take an empty jar from the cupboard, and start saving some of our pocket money to send to babies and kids that need help.

That is a very good idea Mum, he said. You can take all the money from my piggy bank and send it to the kids, so that they can be big and strong.

So very proud.

As I write this post, I’m smiling at the generosity that children have when given the opportunity to help others in need; and while it’s a discussion that I thought we’d be having in a few years, it really has reinforced for me the idea that you’re never to young to give, or to be giving. And who knows where this spark of generosity may lead? If it enables Judah to be a more compassionate child, or to grow into a man who feels the plight of others and seeks to make a difference, then embracing it now may just be the best thing we’ve ever done.

Nat

Image from joojoo on Etsy.



Find me...

And just like that, we’ve moved seamlessly from the world of pirates and the high seas, to detectives, mysteries, magnifying glasses and solving crimes.

I’m actually not quite sure what the trigger was; perhaps there was none. All I know is that my almost-four-year-old is now very slowly investigating his world, magnifying glass in hand, looking for clues that monsters have been visiting, and following (real and imagined) footprints on the floor.

My conversations with Judah nowadays tend to follow this tract:

Me: Judah, what do you want for lunch?

J: I need you to come with me and look for the foofprimts I saw outside with my magmify glass.

Me: Peanut butter or honey on your sandwich?

J: Mummy, when did you see the monster yesterday?

Me: Only when he was dancing in the front garden. Now, what do you want for lunch?

J: Um, I want some money to catch the plane to the detective shop in Adelaide.

Whenever it isn’t mealtime or naptime or you-need-to-do-this-now time, we all join in the detective work. This morning, I explained to him that good detectives ask a lot of questions, and write the answers down in a notebook that they keep in their pockets. Said notebook was found, and a pencil given, and the questions began; random things like, what did you have for breakfast? Or, why do you like yellow?

I guess you never know what questions will solve the mystery, right?

What games are your little ones playing at the moment? Or, do you remember playing detective games when you were a kid?

Nat

Crossing another off the list

I have this mad ambitious plan: to make, do, experience and try out 212 things this year - some as a family, some on my own, most with the kids, and a few random and slightly adventurous ones thrown in for good measure.

You know how much I love lists; but I have to admit, it wasn’t my idea at all. Our young cousin started it all when he began an ambitious bucket list; then Kim decided to make a list of things she wanted to do this year; and what else could I do? As if I’d ever pass up an opportunity to jump on the make-a-list bandwagon!

I’ve loved creating and crossing things off slowly as the weeks tumble on by; and it’s given us an opportunity to be very organised, sometimes quite spontaneous, and definitely more motivated to get more out of the time we spend together.

They’re not all complicated or expensive experiences – some are actually things that we should or would like to do, like give blood, or cull our un-played-with toys, or to bake delicious things for our neighbours.

Examples?

#24: Read the Magic Pudding to Judah every night before bed

#29: Send postcards, drawings, and letters to the people we love

#58: Make a loaf of bread and eat it straight from the oven

#79: Host a dinner party

#91: Brew our own beer

#97: Make a time capsule and bury it in the garden

#107: Make a collection of things every day for a week, and display them somewhere in the house

Today, we crossed another one off the list – #41 - taking the kids to Yum Cha for lunch. We stuffed ourselves with delicious pork buns, dumplings, moreish rice, and warm custard-y tarts, and drove home lazy and full-bellied, smiling at how good it is to (sometimes) be so indulgent.

I do love this list; and I love that it’s making us slightly more adventurous as a family.

What new things have you tried so far this year?

Nat

When I grow up...

Delicious image from here.

While driving yesterday, my mama and I talked to Judah about growing up, and all the fun things he could do once he was big, like Daddy. Judah sat quietly, staring out the window at the passing traffic - I actually wasn’t even sure he was listening; but mum and I carried on anyway, talking about visiting strange lands, climbing mountains, riding bikes, driving cars, making lots of new friends, and maybe even learning how to fly.  

After a while, he piped up and said, ‘All I want to do when I grow up is make morning tea for everyone in the world.’

(He is three-and-a-half, mind you – I guess morning tea may be the most exciting meal of the day. And yes, Mum and I laughed at the sweetness of his chosen occupation)

That’s a big job, I told him, when we talked about it again later.

Yes, he said, but I can do it. I’m very clever.

Kids have a lovely self-assurance, don’t they?  

I love the way that my two look at a situation, and there’s no doubt in the world that they can’t tackle and overcome it. They tell me that they’re clever and smart often; they’re convinced that they’re beautiful and handsome, extremely funny, sweet, very good, and always helpful. I love their optimism; and at the right time, it’s contagious.

I wonder if I had the same confidence at their age. Did you?

Nat

My brand new obsession with River Cottage...

For the last week or so, I’ve been sewing into the night; but for a change, I’ve been having a wander online, instead of resorting to the rubbish that we generally watch on the tele. Most nights see me settling in with a big pile of hand sewing, a steaming mug of tea and some kind of sweet treat, and exploring ABC’s iview - and Oh my goodness me! – I’ve discovered the gorgeous, wholesome, homemade world of River Cottage.

Have you watched it before? If not, go for a look here – it was this breakfast episode that had me sewing too slowly for my own good, and salivating at how seriously good and nourishing something as simple as oats can be (and sure, I’ll admit it: I marched off to the shops the next day, stocked up, and I’ll be giving that muesli with orange juice and fresh sliced apple a go this week).

Are you a fan of River Cottage too?

Nat