Ooooooh!  It is so chilly here today.  Strong, gusty winds roaring up the bay from the Antarctic and squally rain.  It’s been building up to this all week – my first week of nursing placement.

Each morning, I slide out of bed at 4.50am, quickly wriggle into my uniform, eat breakfast, feed and water the chooks (in the pitch dark – feels so good when one of my gumboots has caught the overnight rain and I pop my stockinged foot into a puddle of water), gather my thoughts and belongings for the day and by 5.45am I’m standing in the dark at the tram stop.  Thank goodness it’s right at our door.

It’s almost an hour’s journey into town, another tram ride down the hill, and then a trudge up another hill to the hospital but I make sure to pack my needles and a keep-cup of milky tea.

And this week – I’ve knitted a lovely thick, full tam.  Mmmmm …. keeps my ears so nice and warm.  Will be lovely in the dark of tomorrow morning to pull it down snuggly as I head out the door.  It was a wonderful knit – a free pattern  - the Columbia Beret – from Sarah Pope over at ravelry.  A talented knitter indeed!  I adore the way the decreases swirl in to the centre – and the little red tie – that is how you finish it off – 6 stitches on the remaining two dpn – about 16 rows of garter stitch on each – and then tie it off.  So sweet.  I knitted the large – I have a large and nervous head – but would knit the medium next time.  Mum wants one in charcoal – so I’ll knit you the medium mum!

The wool is left over Cocoon (from my fair isle tunic – coming tomorrow!) by Rowan.  I bought it at Wondoflex when mum was here – they had bought it in at a marvellous price so I bought all 9 skeins they had of this light bluey grey.  It’s 80%  merino, 20% kid mohair and feels positively buttery.  Delicious!  The red is, of course, more of the left over Malabrigo from last year’s jumper.  It does get around :-)

Now, I’m quite dusty from cleaning out the chicken coop – they, however, are warm and snuggly in lovely fresh, sweet smelling straw – so I’m heading off to the shower.

Ugh!  Just think – in less than 12 hours I’ll be up again.   Precious, I know!

Thankfully it was a wee bit warmer than the blustery, chilly ridgetop of Pitchingga.  Just :-)  Good thing there was plenty of sun.

I’d baked before we left home in the morning – lovely fresh bread rolls – still with the tiniest hint of warmth.  My family are very pleased that my bread – after years and years of dodgy bread – is finally getting to be so yummy that we eat much to much of it.  Abby boiled, peeled and mashed our chooks’ eggs with plenty of butter.  Julian packed the left overs of Friday night’s pizza.  And beautifully juicy autumn pears. Yum!

After we’d filled our tummies … the girls stretched out on the picnic quilt and watched the clouds – finding all manner of characters dancing across the sky.

Julian read.  And I knitted my alpaca socks … very apt … very apt indeed :-)

I was made for picnics in the countryside … by the sea … the last weekend’s sustain me ’til Wednesday.  Then I find myself dreaming and planning of running away from the city again … our basket packed full, quilts and pillows piled in the boot, destination chosen, preferably with a nice long drive to get there … oh yes, I do love picnics.

We packed a picnic, collected Sammy – a take-along friend for Abby, and drove down the Mornington Peninsula – nice enough but fairly suburban – until you hit Red Hill.  Be still my beating heart!

This is a gorgeous corner of Victoria and one you should definitely visit.  The roads curl up hill and down dale, and the minute you turn off the main roads (small main roads by city standards), the roads turn to red dirt floored tunnels with huge beautiful trees arching overhead.  There are vineyards and apple orchards and strawberry farms everywhere.

And when you bump along one such track, tumble down into a gully, and then climb back up and around a bend – there are dear, sweet alpacas, standing around calmly amongst the trees, their eyes alert and curious, checking you out as you venture up the long drive.

Jean and Dave gave us over three hours of their time.  They are alpaca farmers with a love for their animals and a passion for sharing their knowledge and experience.  All I did was call them on Friday, ask if we could visit to look at their fleece and they opened their home and farm to us.

We started in the home paddock where the new mums are living with their babies.  Most of them were sturdy toddlers, cheerfully bouncing about whilst their mums calmly grazed.

But in the high corner, was freshly born little Cascade, one day old, making the most of a patch of sun whilst her mum grazed nearby, keeping a watchful eye on her babe.  The minute we quietly moved through the gate, mum strolled over, warning us with gentle, gravelly moans to behave ourselves.  We did :-)  A cold and blustery change was moving in and Jean wanted to pop a little fleecy lined, weather proofed coat on Cascade.

Before long, she was filling up.  Jean outlined the physiology of alpacas’ udders and teats – they are very small, with four teats – only just big enough to feed their offspring but not productive enough to milk for our consumption.  Jean declares she would get only a few mils if she tried.  Abby was a little disappointed – she had hoped there was good alpaca dairying opportunities.

Jean also clipped off some branches of tree lucerne for the girls to feed the mums.  They grow it in a lovely long hedge, surrounded by chicken wire … the branches grow through the holes and the alpacas are able to graze to their hearts’ content without damaging the tree.

The babies thought they might like a try too – and some had a few nibbles – but they were mostly still exclusively breastfed.  They usually feed for about six months.  But some of the older ones were a bit cheeky and Abby ended up losing her branch – someone ran off with it.

After a lovely long visit with the animals, Jean and I headed to the fleece shed, whilst Dave, Julian, the girls, and Abby the gorgeous kelpie visited more paddocks.

Ooooh, there were so many lovely fleeces to inspect and choose from.  Look at that lovely smile on Jean’s face.  We had such a marvellous time.  Out came bags full of white, grey, dark brown, black … and this exquisite one.  It’s Yuki’s – the farm’s only apaloosa alpaca!  Here he is …

Isn’t he a cutie!  Looks like he’s in leg warmers :-)

I couldn’t resist and am now the excited owner of a kilo of Yuki’s second fleece – a jumper for Abby and hopefully enough left over for a hat for Sammy.  Jean, a long timer spinner,  tells me you don’t make rolags like you do with sheeps fleece- you just spin straight from the unwashed fleece, removing the stray bits of grass as you go.  Yuki’s fleece is so soft … just pulling it gently apart is so enticing.   I cannot wait to get spinning.  I also bought half a kilo of Summer Haze’s grey fleece – perhaps a lovely shawl for me.

As the afternoon grew colder, we all trooped inside for hot tea and chocolate chip cookies around the kitchen table.  Dave and Jean brought out lovely blankets and coats to show us how their wool stitches up.  They were so fine, soft and light.  So much lighter than wool.

We sat around chatting about how marvellous it would be if we had the processing, spinning and weaving manufacturing facilities here in Australia.  My – it is such a shame that we are letting skills like this slip through our fingers and sail off overseas.  We produce such beautiful wool from our sheep and alpacas – it is heartbreaking that we don’t make the most of it here!

And we chatted about how we Boots could start building our own wee herd with the Daddo’s help.  Oooooh now that would be sooooo lovely.

The light of the soul throws sparks,
can send up flares, build signal fires,
causes proper matters to catch fire.

To display the lantern of the soul in shadowy times like these,
to be fierce and to show mercy toward others, both,
are acts of immense bravery and greatest necessity.

Struggling souls catch light from other souls who are fully lit and willing to show it.

- Clarissa Pinkola Estes

Hmm … vegies could seem to be a slightly odd thing with which to embellish a nightgown :-)  But these ones are very sweet – from Ikea actually.  The fabric came on a roll – I think there was around 4 metres?  And the pattern is printed in a panel style.  Probably Ikea weren’t thinking nightgowns.  Nah … I’m sure they were picturing curtains and quilt covers.  So unimaginative!

Besides, I think vegies are very beautiful.  Whenever I present a snowy white, perfectly formed cauliflower to the young folk at the checkouts of our fruit and veg store, I always feel compelled to point out its prettiness.  They look at it curiously, wondering what this woman could possibly be referring to.  It’s just a cauliflower!  As for artichokes and aubergines!  Well, I couldn’t say either are my favourite vegie and yet I buy them every week simply because they are so beautiful.  The glossy, glossy purply black of the aubergine’s shiny taut skin.  The incredible detail and rigidity of the artichoke – it’s a Georgian masterpiece.  Impossible to resist.

Makes me think of Kaffe Fasset.  I once read that very early in his career, he was commissioned to paint a mural on the wall of a grand English country house.  Along the bottom of the idyllic garden scene, he included a border of cabbages.  The owner of the house was so incensed by the inclusion of such a common vegetable, they painted over it!  Oy!  Hopefully they regret that now!  I actually have a Kaffe needlepoint of cabbages I have been working on for years.  It’s one of those patterns that is over 300 stitches square with at least 20 shades of green and the pattern is depicted in small coloured squares.  Oh my.  The potential for mistakes is phenomenal and it truly requires that I be completely “in the zone”.  Even then, it’s only possible to work on it for a few weeks before, for sanity’s sake, I have to put it away again for a while.  One day it will be finished and then I shall stitch it up into a beautiful, velvet backed cushion and the unsuspecting will murmur to each other … does Lily really have cabbages on her sofa? :-)

For now – we’ll settle for the vegie nightgown.  ”Another nightgown!” you say, shaking your head.  I know.  I just love making them.  I blame Anne of Green of Gables – all those descriptions of the beautiful dresses Anne wore and nightgowns are the closest I get to them.  I was clearly meant to be living on Prince Edward Island, 120 years ago.  Its flounced hem of green and white stripe sweeps the floor – all the better for tucking the knees under.  The bodice has the biggest buttons I have ever owned – they look enticing enough to eat.  And the bodice and cuffs are trimmed with a narrow, orange, cotton lace. Delicious.

The upside of being an addicted nightgown sewist is that I can now do them with my eyes closed.  Well almost.  They come together lovely and quick and there are so many extra fancies and tweaks you can add.  Thank goodness Abby shares my enthusiasm.

It’s finished!  A collaboration of time, thought, creativity and perseverance.  Such an absolute delight to work with my girlie.  I do so adore her.

I made a last second dash to the fabric store on Tuesday afternoon to ensure we had red corduroy, white velvet and a red zip with which to turn this fabulous needlepoint into a cute-as-cute pencil case on Wednesday … ANZAC day … an at home day for our family.

Abby and I worked together planning, cutting and stitching up the case.  I sewed the zip in first, then the side seams … and left the zip done up.  Did you know, you simply cannot undo a zip from the wrong side.  Nope you can’t.  Oh, pass the seam ripper dear girl! :-)

But it was fixed lickety-split, bashed with the iron … boy, did it need a good bashing … and filled with my little artist’s important tools before the bread even finished its first rising.

The checked ribbon was a particularly inspired touch!  And the girlie is utterly enchanted.  She’s posted it on her art account and has already been bombarded with “likes”, delighted comments and many, many requests for the pattern.   Unlike her mother, she sat straight down, tidied up her pattern and published it.  Go Abby!

Now, she’s pondering … does she want to make that iphone cover … with a small and simplistic design (there’s only so small you can go with needlepoint canvas) or does she want to throw herself into something rich and complicated that will fit on a tote bag or make a fabulous doll.

Hmmm ……. whatever it is, I cannot wait to see :-)  Meanwhile, have a rock cake!  They’re warm and buttery and sweet.  Perfect for a cold and blustery day.

I could say “.. well almost” but that wouldn’t really be true.  There has indeed been some full blown foot stamping and screaming today.  I finished my razor lace cardie … blocked it … tried it on … and all my worst fears were confirmed.

This cardie has been SUCH a pain to knit.  Sort of.  I love the construction method.  There have been long, peaceful hours when I’ve really enjoyed the knitting.  But razor lace?  AAAAAAAAARGHHHHH!

In the early days I frogged this cardie 6 times.  Man oh man!  Truly I’m not exaggerating when I say I’ve probably knitted it three times over!  One occasion even involved ripping it off the needles and hurling it onto my chair – by this stage I was leaping up and down like a demented ballerina (without any grace), wringing my hands and squealing to my Mum.

Of course, she sensibly said, “Stop it right not.  Choose another pattern.”  I squealed “No!  I paid for this pattern.  I LIKE this pattern.  I cannot believe I am so stupid I cannot DO this pattern.”

But in the end, I decided to just embrace any mistakes in the wretched, lovely razor lace and keep knitting.  THAT was a dumb idea.  As I knitted closer and closer to the castoff I said to everyone nearby at that moment – “Can you notice that big bump there?  Yeah, the one that will sit right on my boob!”  ”Can you see the holes in the sleeve really clearly where I dropped a gazillion stitches and picked them up badly?”  ”Can you see down here on the band where god-knows-what-I-did?”

Mum said, “Just wear it around the house.” (not comforting)

Abby said, “Put a brooch on the bump.” (yeah right – “look folks! here’s my right boob!)

Julian said, “Didn’t you only pay $3 a ball for that wool (I did, Paton’s Bluebell old stock) – put it away and do something else.”

I kept saying “When I block it and put it on it will be probably be fine.”

Sweet little babysitting girlie said “Yes you can notice the bump.  And there and there and there and there.  I think you should pull it out and do it again because the rest of it looks really nice and you’ll never like wearing it with those bumps.  You like knitting so that’s okay.  You’ll like knitting it again.”

Out of the mouth of babes.

So, I’m here to tell you that stamping and screaming doesn’t make you feel any better.  Indeed, it only increases your fretfulness over the disaster.  Being honest and clear eyed about what you’ve done is so much more liberating.  You would never have guessed that would you :-)  You needed me to tell you that! :-0

I undid the castoff, attached the cardie to the wool winder and bam!  Hundreds of hours of knitting were neatly re-wound in just 15 minutes.

I kept the cast-on.  Do you think I’m truly demented for doing it again?  I do really like the pattern and when I had it on, I loved it and could imagine wearing it with lots of my clothes.  And I hate the thought of being defeated by it.

But given I couldn’t keep that wretched razor lace right no matter how hard I tried and after hundreds and hundreds of rows … am I just going to have the same problems again?

I mean, I know this pattern OFF BY HEART … knit, wrap, knit, slip as if knitting, slip two stitches as if knitting, put them back on left needle, knit, pass slip stitched over, knit, wrap, knit, wrap, knit … and so on.

Maybe I just have to be really vigilant and count my little head off.  The minute I notice a mistake – unpick.

… very … deep … sigh ……

Oh it is so very relaxing.  And utterly addictive.  The key to spinned out bliss .. prepare a good many rolags in advance and then just set that wheel a-flying whilst you draw and twist a seemingly never ending supply of beautiful fleece.

I bought this fleece – a hand dyed Corriedale – from a quirky little store in Yarragon that sells spinning supplies.  The lovely women there suggested Corriedale ’cause it’s nice and grippy – Merino is apparently super slippery – thus making Corriedale good and Merino not-so-good for beginning spinners.  Like me!  This yarn I’m making – yet to be plied – will one day soon be knitted into a hat.  Abby doesn’t want the first effort – she’s waiting for when I spin Fu’s fur into wool.  I’m happy to wear the first effort – lumps and skinny bits and all.  Mind you, I’m relieved to report, they are becoming fewer and further between!

Courtesy, I must add, of Youtube.  Yep.  Right next to the basket of rolags is my laptop, with multiple internet windows open, all offering advice and demonstrations of how to spin.  Oh, and the Ashcroft PDF on how to put my spinning wheel together.  Well, yes, it is together but you wouldn’t believe what I did when I first got it home.  Broke it.

Yep.  I broke a wee joint getting it out the car – the bit that joins the long sticky bit to the pedal bit.  You know.  The bit that makes it GO.  I thought about wailing but no one was home to hear, so I checked the wise world of web and saw that people use all kinds of things to replace that wee joint.  I jumped back into the car and tore off to our local hardware with the offending stick in hand and one of the lovely chaps in the building section found me a replacement – a screw plug for brick walls – I now have 50.  And they’re bright orange.

Isn’t it truly extraordinary how we can come home with a spinning wheel and bag of fleece and alongside the gentle and wise guidance of spinners from way across the seas in Scotland and Ireland slowly fumble our way through to learning a new skill.  Just amazing.

So I sit by my fireplace – honestly, can you believe I have this lovely fireplace with a beautiful art deco mantlepiece – and its CLOSED UP.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve considered taking the sledgehammer to it whilst Julian is on one of his overseas trips.  I’m sure the landlord wouldn’t mind ( ahem!).  And once Julian is home and there’s a gloriously beautiful, warm fire, glowing away, he couldn’t possibly find a single objection (my teeth are gritted).

So I sit by my fireplace, a basket of rolags at my feet.  With the flick of a spoke, I set the wheel a-turning, one stockinged foot pressing gently, up and down and up and down.  There’s a lovely soft whoosh and and an ever so slight clackety-clack.  The fleece slides through my fingertips and twirls its way into the orifice and onto the spindle.  I still haven’t mastered the art … I really want to spin a long draw … as per my rolags … but my left hand is oh so bossy, sneaking in a short draw when I’m not watching.  And so I softly recite, pull with my right, pull with my right, pull with my right …

Oh yes, there will be a lovely gillyweed green and bluebottle blue hat very soon.

:: first cup of tea and needlepoint::

:: a flurry of knitting to get the alpaca socks growing again … I had knitted the cuff and was about to finish the lace set up row when I realised I had
15 more stitches than required.  Ahem ::

:: deciding it is much easier to find hairpins when I just leave the contents of the hairpin box scattered all over the bathroom bench.  If only Julian could see it my way ::

:: observing – with relief – that my third attempt at a sourdough starter has both bubbles and an appealing sour smell – maybe this one will be the winner! ::

:: chopping into some deliciously fresh new fabric – flannel pjs for Abby – very Austen ::

:: loving orange – it’s popping up all over the place ::

:: spending fiddly, pleasurable hours on the details ::

:: satisfied that the new pjs are finished, on and loved … and enchanted that she is so determined to finish that needlepoint asap ::

Now, we have a cosy, lovely home – full of who we are.  We have a beautiful daughter – she’s the sum of us.  We have big dreams of where we want to go.  We are working hard to get there.

Abby is wearing a glorious silk dress my grandmother sewed in the ’60s – oh she looked so beautiful … and after an initial teenage hesitation, loved it so, she didn’t take it off until bedtime!

And this is the orange silk skirt I wore for our wedding … lined with purple … Scarlett’s Pagan Orange and Ecclesiastic Purple …  good thing it’s wrap around so it still fits after all these years!

I could be less bower birdish.  He could do more housework.  But we are so pleased to come home to each other every evening and when one of us is away, the other feels quite lost and lonely. ‘Cause we surely are the family that plays together, stays together.

Yesterday – he surprised us.  Lunch reservation at Gill’s Diner in the city.  A very quirky, yummy restaurant tucked down one of Melbourne’s dingy alleys.  We ate well and laughed.

Last night – a long promised chocolate fondue for Abby.  It was especially apt last night – something had to make up for the delicious (or so we grown ups thought!) fennel and courgette souffle Julian cooked for supper.

Another lovely 21st day of April … for which I am so very grateful.