rose

the making of a teacosy

ingredients

keep the puppy amused

round and round

crochet while its on

round the spout

all covered

crown and flower for the top

all done

pouring the tea

autumn backdrop

rose

With the arrival of cooler weather comes many more cups of tea! Noah and I are great tea drinkers – it’s a lovely thing to share.  Over the years, either one of us has come home, or stopped work, or needed a pick me up, and said to the other, “Would you like a cup of tea?” And the two of us gather in the kitchen, brew up our tea and sit down together over a lovely steamy cup.

Being responsible for introducing Noah to tea as a young child, we take it the same way – weak with lots of milk.  I say to people when they offer to make me a cup – add what you think is too much milk and then some more :-)

I do think our love for a nice cup of tea has been well fostered by our shared love for English literature and films, English children’s fiction, and a very strong dose of Agatha Christie.  We’re both huge fans of David Suchet and Geraldine McEwan and have watched the films literally hundreds of times.

Had a tough day at school/work?  Have a cup of tea and watch “A Murder is Announced!”  Cold and rainy afternoon?  Have a cup of tea and watch “Murder in Mesopotamia (What ho Sheila!)”.  Julian’s away and we don’t feel like cooking?  Have tea and toast for supper watching “The 4:50 from Paddington!”.

Our other three hot favourites are “Hope and Glory”, “My Family and Other Animals”, and “Cold Comfort Farm” – add a cup of tea, some hand stitching and we are in heaven.

Just lately, we’ve taken to listening to the audio books of our favourite Agatha’s – read by either David Suchet or Hugh Fraser (who played the marvellous Colonel Hastings in the Poirot series).  They are excellent – some of Agatha’s character descriptions are almost equal to Charles Dickens – they are often so droll and witty and just perfectly illustrate who is standing before Poirot!  And both David and Hugh can do a huge variety of excellent accents – truly gifted.

However, as he’s grown up, Noah has developed a taste for more exotic teas and is a regular customer at T2.  He has all his tins and jars lined up in the pantry and has teas for all occasions.  Alas – I’m pretty boring and when we are sharing a pot I almost always only want a nice cup of Yorkshire Gold.  I may branch out to English breakfast or Traditional Afternoon.  And just the other day I tried Devonshire Breakfast from the Quamma General Store and Post Office.  It was nice too!  And if I’m really feeling outrageous I’ll share a pot of Madagascar Vanilla.

But really, my favourite is a plain black tea.  Weak.  With lots of milk.

However, as I may have mentioned, the weather has finally turned cooler and this weekend past saw plenty of tea drinking but we couldn’t get to the bottom of the pot before it turned stone cold!  There was a definite need for a teacosy.

I made one several years back – but in the move goodness knows which box it’s in – and it was specifically made for a vintage corning ware teapot which had a rather unusual shape.  These days we are into a dear little red floral pot from T2 that Noah gave me for Christmas last year, or a delightfully old solid Bendigo Pottery one – definitely the kind that Flora would have found lurking on the dresser at Cold Comfort Farm.  They needed their own cosy.

So, I gathered some wool from the caravan – the pale is an old Cleckheaton’s from the early 1980s that I found in Mum’s stash.  The green and red are also Cleckheaton’s that I used in my crocheted shawls last year.  And the dark purple is the beautiful Cleckheaton wool / silk blend that I used in my hippie cardigan the year before.

And I gave the puppy a paper bag to tear apart beside me.  That kept her quiet and compliant ;-)

I crocheted it on the teapot so as to get the size right – it worked up lickety-split.  Then added a “crown” (which led to the plotting of a teacosy for another straight sided teapot) and a lovely flower.  Good stuff!

It’s a bit of a squeeze getting it on – I think next time I shall crochet my starting chain with a larger hook – but once it’s over the spout and handle it fits beautifully.

Now our tea stays lovely and warm through to the second cup.  And even better – our teapots look ever so sweet and cosy.

Pleased all round are we!

 

tiny cave

lemon drizzle cake for mothers’ day :: a recipe

 

IMG_8161

path

tall grass

washed up

gannet

weed

big and littl

cliff

green

draped

little headlands

salted

sharp

orange

loose teeth

tiny cave

red

cows

cake

 

A Lemon Drizzle Loaf

Ingredients for the loaf

  • 225g butter (room temperature)
  • 225g white sugar
  • 4 large eggs (I use duck eggs for extra lift and wonderful colour)
  • 1 tspn vanilla extract
  • zest of 1 large lemon
  • 125g unbleached plain flour
  • 100g almond meal
  • 1 tspn baking powder

Ingredients for the drizzle

  • 85g white sugar
  • juice of 1 large lemon

Method for the loaf

  1. Preheat oven to 180 celsius and generously butter a standard loaf tin (My loaf tin is (l)27cm x (w)15cm x (d)7cm).
  2. Place butter and sugar in mixing bowl and beat until pale and creamy (I use a kitchenaid standing mixer)
  3. Crack eggs one at a time into a glass – check for freshness before adding to a small bowl – nothing worse than 1 yucky egg spoiling the rest.
  4. Place all 4 eggs into butter and sugar mix and beat well.
  5. Add vanilla and lemon zest to above wet ingredients and continue to beat.
  6. Measure flour, almond meal and baking powder into a medium bowl – combine well with a hand whisk.
  7. Add dry ingredients to wet ingredients and keep mixing until well combined.
  8. Pour batter into prepared loaf tin and bake for 45 minutes or until inserted skewer comes out clean.
  9. Rest in tin on bench.

Method for drizzle

  1. While the loaf is baking, mix sugar with lemon juice (and any lemon pith you are able to extract) in a small jug.
  2. Once the loaf is resting on the bench and still warm, pierce all over with the skewer creating lots of small holes.
  3. Gently pour the lemon drizzle over the loaf being sure to cover all surface area.
  4. Leave in tin until the loaf has cooled.

Serve by itself or with a plain greek yoghurt.

Enjoy!

And remember that mothers always need to secure their own oxygen mask before helping others ;-)

binding on

change

fabric

very drab

seams

on the mat

duck head

over chair

quilting

chopping pumpkin

pumpkin and butter

ready for baking

lines

binding on

inspected

approved

The last few months have been so many things.  Bewildering, magical, overwhelming, everything I’ve ever daydreamed about, exhausting, bliss and such a privilege.  I have not started back at nursing yet, Julian is working from home, and Noah’s having a gap year.  So almost everyday, here we are together.  Each pottering about in this small cottage, sharing our daily lives in a way we’ve never been able to do before.  There are so many times when I stand here and think – wow!  This is amazing!  Even better than when Noah was little, because Julian’s here too and we are somewhere exquisitely beautiful.  What a gift for us.

But it has been stressful at times.  I don’t like change.  Never have.  Which must seem insane to read because I have longed for this change for soooooooo many years.  But change is change.  2015 was a stressful year with so much change and challenge.  Moving was exhausting and stressful.  Oh my goodness – those last few days in Melbourne were hideous – it felt as if they COULD never end.  By the time I arrived here at Wombat Hill, I was utterly wrung out.

So pleased and relieved to be here – but completely spent.  And what did we do – threw open our arms and welcomed even more change!  Julian no longer left the home for work each day.  Noah was no longer at school – 13 years of routine disappeared in a blink and a whole new era of parenting a young adult began.  We had animals that needed to be housed and cared for.  A normal sized family home’s worth of contents and furniture was divided between our little esky cottage and one side of the workshop.  Then there were all the niggly details of moving – changing licences, registrations, service providers, insurance …

It was “Yes!  There’s no more tram out the front!” to “Oh my god, there’s no more tram out the front!”  Every where we needed to go required so much driving.  But the road is beautiful and there’s no traffic.  Everything is so much slower and more peaceful.  But we can no longer call into all those shops that had become our favourites and where we knew everybody.  I no longer had to carefully check my roster every night before falling asleep.  And I no longer had that wonderful sense of purpose, privilege and camaraderie that comes with working as a nurse in a really good hospital with wonderful people I looked forward to seeing every day.  And oh how I miss Meryl, her beautiful mosaic studio, the wonderful women I met there and the joy that was hours spent creating with like minded women.

I sound ungrateful.  Truly I’m not.  I do love living here.  It is everything I’d ever hoped for.

But it’s a huge change.  And I don’t like change.

Change flusters me.  Leaves me nervous, heart beating a little faster, unsure of what to do next, what to expect, how to cope.  Makes me teary sometimes.  Short tempered other times.

Let me tell you how well I coped when Julian and Noah were in Melbourne and one of the chickens died overnight and something ate its brains out.  Well.  I didn’t.  I called my mum sobbing and SHE came over and coped.

My Mum did what every sensible, loving mum does, and after she picked up the dead chicken and popped it into a box, she sat with me whilst I made an appointment to see our GP – who I’d only had an introductory visit with the week before and had been perfectly grown up and coherent.  Not like when I saw her the day after the chicken died.  Oh I cried and cried and cried.  And she was incredibly compassionate and lovely.

We had a really really good talk – about change, and sadness, and relationships, and what makes us feel worthwhile, and menopause (oh that is so much fun!).  She also prescribed a low dose of some good old antidepressants to help smooth things out, and I’ve been back to see her every week since.  She is a real gem.

Five weeks on and I truly feel like I’ve been pulled out of a rather scary whirlpool and gently set back down on my feet.  I haven’t cried in weeks – except those hiccuping tears of laughter when the new puppy or goats do something funny or Julian is silly.  It is a joy to get up everyday and I’m steadfast in only thinking about what needs to be done in the next hour – not all of what we should do or what might go wrong in the next decade.  Everyday tasks are so much more enjoyable that way – who’d have thunk!  I’m so grateful for the love and patience shared with me by Julian, Noah and Mum.  Gratitude and patience go a long way to making days peaceful and rewarding.

And instead of flapping about like a squawking hen, my newly peaceful mind and I have decided to use this change as an opportunity to reestablish good habits that I’d let slip over our years in Melbourne – especially with all that studying and nursing and a year’s worth of moving and feeling so unsettled.  Simple things that make me feel relaxed and competent – making our bed first thing in the morning, watering my little porch garden, folding all the washing when we bring it in so our little home stays neat, washing up before we go to bed, putting time and effort into planning and cooking our meals.

That might sound a little 1950s housewife-ish.  But I find that when all those little things run smoothly, I have so much more energy and passion for the much bigger and more exciting, creative things.  A calm house makes for a calm mind.  A reliable routine makes me feel capable of doing so much more.

So here I am.  I have settled back into the regular reading of some inspiring books like Sally Fallon’s Nourishing Traditions and Rhonda Hetzel’s Down to Earth and her new book The Simple Home.  They help me think through what is important for my family and I, and encourage me to put these values into practice everyday.  I’m pulling out the old favourite cookbooks and making well loved suppers and baking treats.

My patchwork boxes are still in the shed, but open and I’m slowly working through them, delighting in the treasures they hold and bringing in projects to finish off.  I may not be able to work on my mosaics at the moment, but I’m loving painting – all the animal houses are being colourfully decorated and I’ve started a big canvas of what I love looking at when I stand on the porch.  I’ve pulled out pieces of fabric and patterns I’ve bought over the last few years, and have started making clothes again.

And I’ve knitted.  Oh my goodness – knitting is as good as meditation I reckon.  In those first couple of weeks after seeing my doctor, every time I felt overwhelmed, I just sat in a lovely spot and knitted.  And that feeling slowly subsided.

Now, I’m aware of speaking more kindly and thoughtfully.  I’m considering my reactions when the unexpected happens and applying a good dose of self talk as required.  My levels of impatience and frustration are so low, I feel positively Zen.

Chickens will still die and have their brains eaten out.  Just this last fortnight we’ve had a big upsurge in rat activity and they ate all my carefully nurtured broccoli, cabbage, brussel sprouts, parsley, silverbeet and lettuce.  All the leaves fell off my new mulberry tree.  And my right elbow is so sore (I’ve had “tennis elbow”) that I doubt it will ever feel the same again.

Julian will annoy me.  Noah will have me throwing my hands up in despair.  The dog will vomit on the rug.  The kitchen will be a disaster and I will rather eat toast than cook supper.

But I am optimistic.  I have so much.  Every day I have many moments of such happiness and love.  What was once this huge change is now becoming part of who I am. That is such a relief.

And I’m so glad I’m here, with my wonderful, much-loved people at my side, creating this new life.  It is everything I’ve dreamed of and so much more.

 

 

in the light

oh the things you can quilt!

old towel

block for centre

adding the strips

reusing the binding

watching with interest

done

corner

in the light

doorside

perfect

in the shadow

So Penny Pakkun hasn’t really grasped the concept of closing her mouth after having a big slurpy drink of water.  She looks up at us – a delighted underbitey grin on her funny little face – and water trickles all over the floor.  Sigh.

Obviously, the water bowl needed it’s own little quilted bath mat.  Easy peasy and sooo much lovely colourful fun to make.

I dug an old towel out of the caravan that had mysteriously grown holes.  Trimmed off the holey bits.  Centred a little orphaned block I found in a fabric box.  Hunted out some strips and ironed them.  Then off I went.

I had a brain freeze at the very end and not only trimmed off the final strip of blue atrociously crookedly – I followed the towel’s line instead of the fabric – guess which was straighter! Then to make it worse – I bound it.  Lay it on the floor to admire and realised “Bugger!”

Oh well.  I don’t mind.  Maybe one day when there is utterly nothing else to do I will unpick the binding, trim it off and redo it.  Hmmm … methinks there will always be something better to do.

The mat is ever so pretty – looks like the water bowl now sits amidst a bed of colourful flowers! And a good strip of the lorax – the best of all garden lovers.

And surprise, surprise, Penny Pakkun was perfectly happy to stand on it whilst having a drink.  Job done!