Foxs Lane

Hello happy & beautiful (almost) winter list

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Mon, 20 May 2013 10:38:00 +0000

It's freeeeeezing cold here. Today was dark and grey and stormy and wet. Winter feels like it has well and truly settled in two weeks early. Although this weather feels like it could drag me under, this year I am determined not to let it. I'm determined to stay on top of it all. And what better way than by noticing and remembering and appreciating and being grateful for the good in my life. The great in my life. The beautiful in my life.

So here we go, here's my HELLO HAPPY and BEAUTIFUL (almost) WINTER list.

I love watching my little girls and their dogs. It reminds me of what we wanted, what we dreamed of, when we decided to move to the country to bring up our family. Jazzy and Willow.

I love the bits of bright colour in our garden. We're pretty good at growing the edible and the functional, but we often forget about the purely decorative. The decorative serves a pretty important function too, so I am learning.

I'm so happy that the kitchen garden is looking almost ready to take on the winter months. Kale and lettuce and rocket and herbs and garlic and broccoli and carrots and beetroots. I've got a bundle of seeds to plant in the hot house next time I get a chance too.

Pom pom parties!

We bought a Clover pom pom maker last weekend and it is rocking our world. It is quick and fun to use and makes the best, fluffiest pom poms around.

It may be freeeeeeeeezing, but Daylesford does autumn beautifully. This tree up near the poly tunnels seems to change colour and glow as the day goes on.

A sneaky, mid-week, wintery getaway with my farmer boy. We had the caravan park and the beach to ourselves and spent a whole luxurious two days alone. (Thanks heaps M and D xx)

The very last of autumn's colourful bounty. Yesterday I spent a bit of a disgusting few hours poking through the sloppy, mouldy vines in the poly tunnels for the final time of the season. Tomorrow the chooks will go in and clean them up. It's been a wonderful season but the time has come to say farewell.

A sunny Sunday's work in the kitchen garden resulted in a ute load of garden scraps for the compost. Out with the old and in with the new. Hooray!!

I've been catching glimpses of the cubby-house in different lights, from different angles and falling in love over and over again.

Keeping the home fires burning. Cooking our food and warming our home. Late in the evenings we like to pull chairs up to her and open an oven for extra warmth. Then my farmer boy reads some Michael Pollan out loud and I knit. It's cozy. And MP is a great writer. And my farmer boy is a great reader and he took that photo and he's a bit cute too.

Ahhhhh, I feel better already. I think I might have to make this a regular thing.

Do you want to play too? Here in the comments or on your blog?
What are some of the little things making you feel up and happy at the moment?
What's chasing your grey away?

Big love peeps.
Be good. xx

Knit three

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Sun, 19 May 2013 10:15:00 +0000

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

I had a crisis of knitting confidence a few days ago.

It's happened to me before. In fact I've probably even blogged about it here, but still...

I was sitting in a cafe in Daylesford near a woman wearing the most gorgeous wrap around shawl thing I had ever seen. It was chunky, big stitched, emerald green, it looked super soft and squishy warm and the pattern was just beautiful.

The whole time I was drinking my coffee, I was mentally going through the wool I have at home searching for the perfect yarn for project shawl. And trying to work out if I have big enough needles to get that chunky loose look. And of course I was also counting stitches. Or trying not to be too obvious while I was counting how many stitches in the width of the shawl.

As we got up to leave I couldn't help myself and asked her if she could take off her shawl so I could have a look at the shape and the the dimensions. I told her how much I adored it.

She held it up and it was a big chunky loop. About a meter and a half in length and half a meter in width, with a gorgeous cable detail running around it. When she put it back on she wound it around her neck twice and then sort of pulled it down her shoulders. She looked gorgeous.

And then I asked her if she'd made it, secretly hoping for some details and maybe even a pattern link. But she hadn't. She had in fact bought it in a shop in town.

So we walked down the hill to visit that shop. I don't know why, but we did.

And we found that very same shawl in a rainbow of colour options. They were acrylic and they were made in China and they cost twenty dollars each.

As we walked back to the car I felt really sad. Why would I bother knitting that shawl, if I could buy it so cheap? That much good quality, organic wool would probably cost me between sixty and eighty dollars and the time it would take me to knit it would be at least a few weeks.

I have that same discussion in my head about lots of the things we do on our farm and in our home. Why do we spend so much time and energy growing things from seed when we can buy them so cheap at the fruit shop? Why do we spend so much time preserving produce when it is available at a fraction of the cost, all year round, in tins and jars from the super market? Why do we bake our own bread, make our own clothes, gather our own honey, chop and split our own wood, repair things when they break, if there is an option to buy for a fraction of the price?

All these things take up so much time and sometimes don't save any money at all.

But the satisfaction that comes from doing them is priceless.

And although I probably wont end up knitting myself that particular shawl, it might feel a bit like trying to replicate a Big Mac from homegrown, organic ingredients, I know why I knit. I adore to knit. And I know that this winter I'll be sending my girls out into the icy cold world in beanies made especially for them with all my love. You can't buy that in a chain store.

Ravelry details here, here, and here.

Thanks for the pattern link Christy xx

OK, three winter beanies done, it's time to wind some wool for my farmer boy. He thinks stripes for a change. Maybe.

So how about you?
Do you choose the slow even though the fast is cheaper?
Does the fast tempt you or discourage you? Or neither?
Are you knitting beanies too?

Big love and a happy and wonderful week for you my friends.

seasonal - sustainable - wonderful

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Thu, 16 May 2013 03:41:00 +0000

At the start of the cycle, last spring, we planted tomato seeds in trays in the hot house. We nurtured the seeds and watched them grow. When they were large enough to cope, we moved them outside or into the poly tunnels to give them space. We tried to provide ideal growing conditions by planting according to the moon's phases, weeding out some of the competition, feeding and irrigating and staking. And then over the last few months we enjoyed the harvest.

We had a wonderful, bountiful tomato season this year.

We picked colanders and baskets and buckets and crates full.

We ate them straight off the bush and in salads and sandwiches and cooked them in absolutely everything. And we preserved enough sauce and semi drieds to hopefully last us through out the year.

And then along came the first frost of the season. Just like that the outside tomato season was over. The frost burnt the foliage and damaged the remaining, as yet unripe fruit.

Following the first frost the chooks went in to clean up. They gobbled up the fleshy fruit, they ate the bugs and scratched up the dirt. And they pooed. Our chooks are really the hardest workers on our farm.

In the next few days, after they are done, my farmer boy will plow the tomato scraps and the chook poo into the soil adding much needed organic matter and fertiliser to the land that has grown our beautiful and delicious fruit.

After the plowing up we'll probably plant a winter pea crop or a broad bean crop to add nitrogen. We have to do everything we can to look after the health and balance of our hardworking soil. Everything that comes out with the growing, needs to go back in and more.

The tomato journey comes to an end.

And then next spring we'll start all over again.

As much as I dislike the cold and wet and grey, I love the seasons. I love that everything has it's time.

My farmer boy asked me the other day if I could commit to seasonal eating completely this year and cut out fresh tomatoes until they grow here again next summer. That is a big one for this thinly sliced tomato with salt on crackers loving girl. It even makes me panic a bit. But I think I'm going to try. It makes sense I think.

I'll be enjoying every single precious tomato I pick in the poly tunnels for the next week or so, that's for sure.

Are you a seasonal eater?
Could you do without?
Thinking about how far away the tomatoes are grown and how they travel to get to me over the depths of winter certainly helps.

Happy week my friends.
Keep cozy.

xx

the patch work cubby

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Sun, 12 May 2013 12:24:00 +0000

The story of this cubby started about ten and a half years ago.

I know!!

Ten and a half years ago I told my farmer boy that I was going to buy Miss Indi a cubby house for her second birthday. You know, one of those cubbies made from reddish wood with a pitched roof, a little door, square windows, some window boxes to pop some flowers in and some floral curtains.

But my farmer boy said no.

At first he said no because of all the nasty, treated wood they were making cubbies out of back then. And then when I found an alternative, safer version, he said no because he wanted to build her one himself.

But soon after that our business took off, we had more little girls and the cubby house just never did happen.

Until a couple of months ago, after a boy's pool night out, my farmer boy showed me a photo on his phone of a cubby a friend of ours, Jobbo, had built for his girls. It was the cutest little cubby house I had ever seen. And what's more, Jobbo was thinking about making those cubbies as a little business.

I knew straight away that our cubby time had come.

So we got Jobbo over. And we spoke about what we wanted in a cubby - somewhere the little girls could play but also a space for Miss Indi to hang out with her friends. We spoke about size - small enough to feel like a teeny cubby but big enough for grown ups not to feel claustrophobic when invited in for a cuppa. And we spoke about materials - where available all from our farm (ie. farm junk).

And then Jobbo and his apprentice, builder Bren, got to work.

And over the next few Thursdays there was plenty of sawing and sanding and scavenging and deciding and designing and admiring and cutting and nailing.

And then last Thursday the front door was bolted on and our cubby was finished.

The girls swept it out and picked some roses from the garden and we lit a bon fire to celebrate.

Every time I look out the window and see it sitting there I can't help but smile.

I think it is the most beautiful patch work cubby house I have ever seen.

After ten and a half years I'm happy to be writing a The End at the end of this cubby-house story, even though I know it's really just the beginning.

You can find Jobbo on instagram @TheBuilderRecycles.

I hope you have the happiest week peeps.
Me and my farmer boy are heading off on a little adventure tomorrow and I'm so excited I might not get to sleep tonight.

Bye! xx

Monday early in the afternoon

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Mon, 06 May 2013 04:21:00 +0000

Eight shots from our weekend;

(1-3) One of the best parts of autumn is the bonfires.

(4) Visiting the Holy Goat girls and meeting Giselle the goat who will soon be coming to live with us and have kids and provide us with milk.

(5) Still preserving.

(6) His beloved compost steaming.

(7) Knitting a red beanie for Miss Jazzy.

(8) The kitchen garden at dusk.

Monday early in the afternoon.

So far today: we got the girls up and off to school, had a quick coffee in town with my parents and then I did a pilates class. Pilates is ace for me. Farming and mothering are hard on my body and pilates feels a bit like a weekly tune up. It slows me down and helps me to remember to breathe, keep my shoulders down and do things properly. I've been doing pilates for nine years!!

And now I'm home sitting on the couch with a blankie on my knees answering emails about my book, filling in an author's survey and finding some photos of our family and farm for the publicity.

I still feel very self conscious when I'm referred to as the author.

There is clean washing in the machine to hang out, there is tonight's dinner to think about (onion soup?), I can see my farmer boy out the window filling up the vegie beds with compost, there's a zillion unanswered emails in my inbox and a house full of the weekend's mess to deal with, there are seeds to plant, apples to dehydrate and some phone calls to return.

But all I really feel like doing is having a long hot bath and listening to a podcast or hopping back into bed with my knitting.

I never ever do things like that. Especially not on a Monday when the to-do list is so high it's threatening to topple over. When the rest of my week is looking so crazy busy that now might be my only chance. But the pull of the cozy over the constructive is huge and strong.

Maybe I'll make the soup base and a bread dough and see.

Maybe I'll answer four emails for every four knitting rows.

Maybe I'll have lunch and then decide.

Maybe...

I hope your week is super lovely friends.
Have you got anything fun planned?

Bye bye. xx

every day in may - or not

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Wed, 01 May 2013 11:20:00 +0000

This is the bunting I made and the stamp I cut to stamp the bunting I made.

When my book comes out in August, hopefully some book shops will hang this stamped bunting in their windows as a display.

My book!! Oh my gosh! Did you see I put a little pic of the cover over there on my side bar. Eeeeeep!!

This is the wool I was lucky enough to win in Little Woollie Jules's giveaway to celebrate the opening of her online store. Thanks Jules!!

Delicious and soft and squishy and waiting patiently for the perfect project. Six 50gm balls, any suggestions?

This is the show-off autumn kissed grapevine on the front side of our house. The back-side (ha!) grapevine gets less sun and is yellow.

This is about 30 or 40 rows of this brilliant idea I had that is never going to happen. Such a shame. A wide, loooooooong, grey scarf would be so useful and snuggly and cute. But realistically, 120 stitch rows of plain knit and plain purl are not so much fun. Unravel.

This is the state of our cubby so far.

There'll be more tomorrow. @thebuilderrecycles (on instagram) is coming at 8am.

This was my attempt at a wintery colour palette blanket.

It hurts my eyes. Unravel.

These are the potatoes we picked last Friday.

This is the beanie I'm knitting for Pepper. I-cords and pom poms to go.

These are some of my kitchen garden tomatoes. With ten crates of green tomatoes in the loungeroom and a frost warning overnight, I had to say goodbye to these. I guess the chooks will love them.

It's funny, all week long I've been obsessively considering my every day in May project.

I've thought about walking every day, crocheting a square a day, knitting a square a day, making a pom pom a day, cooking a new recipe a day, reading a chapter a day, writing a blog post a day, naming something I am grateful for each day, doing something different with apples every day, taking a bag to the op-shop a day or doing some sort of photo challenge each day.

But late this afternoon, waaaaaay into the first day of May, I admitted defeat. For some reason I am just too crazy busy this May. Between the book stuff and the preserving stuff and the home stuff and the mothering stuff, there is just no room to take on another project. I have no idea how it is possible that with three at school this year I am still busier than last year, but I am. Either that or just more realistic.

I adored last year's motif a day in May and the May two years before that. I loved choosing the pattern, finding the cotton, hooking each square and watching the pile of finished motifs grow.

Hopefully I'll be back on board next year.

Hopefully I'll stick to this decision and not freak out and rush off to make a square as soon as I've pressed publish on this post. Hopefully.

So what are you up to over there?
Are you busier this year than last?
Are you making every day in May?
Or are you too tired by the end of the day?
Oh and if I disable anonymous comments is that going to worry you?

Bye!

These autumn days I am...

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Tue, 30 Apr 2013 11:17:00 +0000

❤ Popping and planting garlic. See you in six months little purple bulbs.

❤ Knitting beanies. One almost done, four to go.

❤ LOVING having my folks at the bottom of the hill. xx

❤ Making and stamping bunting to go in shop windows when my book comes out. Eeeeep!!

❤ Thinking a lot about business and pleasure. And dollars and sense.

❤ Picking about 20kgs of tomatoes a day. Preserving most days.

❤ Keeping one girl a day home with us for private time. Part time farm school.

❤ Loving the look of the water droplets on the nasturtium leaves.

❤ So over the 300+ spam comments I am getting each day on my blog.

❤ Loving Dawn Tan's new blog.

❤ Behind on my running/walking routine because of the time-hogging tomatoes.

❤ Loving splitting two year old, very dry wood.

❤ Wishing it were 15 degrees warmer. At least.

❤ Listening to the Maremmas barking like crazy in the back paddock.

❤ Needing to dehydrate another load of apples.

❤ Watching Nashville. Liking not loving.

❤ Looking forward to visiting a dairy goat farm later this week for some ideas and info.

❤ So glad I decided not to drive to Melbourne and back tonight.

❤ Supervising the building of the recycled cubby house. There it is in the pic above top left.
❤ Loving the expanding kitchen garden.

❤ So sorry that I haven't replied to your emails. I'll get there soon.

❤ Still struggling with autumn dressing.

❤ Enjoying snacking on carrots straight from the ground.

❤ Embarrassed that we still have one suit case left to unpack. The odds and ends one. Ugh!

❤ A bit dehydrated. I never remember to drink water when it's cold.

❤ Really enjoying writing my blog at the moment.

❤ Loving the comments you are leaving on my blog. Thank you! Thank you! x

❤ Tired and ready for bed.

What's going on with you?

What are you thinking/making/baking/growing/feeling/wearing?

Do tell.

Later potata. xx

passion

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Mon, 29 Apr 2013 04:17:00 +0000

This weekend's tomatoes;

All the San Marzano's were cooked, moulied and poured into Fowlers jars (132 for the year so far).

All the cherries were eaten in salads and sandwiches.

And all the baby pears were laid out on baking trays with big glugs of olive oil, plenty of fresh basil and oregano, wedges of onion and garlic, and salt and pepper.

Tray after tray sat for hours and hours in the wood cooker over the weekend. Our house smelled delicious.

A few trays of the tomatoes were put in jars and filled with olive oil (recipe here), some were eaten straight off the tray and the rest were moulied, poured into a big, heavy saucepan and cooked down for sauce and paste.

Me and my farmer boy are talking a lot about passion at the moment.

Red, fiery, excited, energising, smiley, happy, butterflies in your tummy passion.

Where does it come from and what is it exactly?

I keep coming back to the same answer. Growing food, preparing food and preserving food for our family is my passion. Living in the season and preparing for the next. Having a minimal impact on the earth. Living a creative life. Family. Home.

It's been a few years since we came to the realisation that it's a bit silly to grow gorgeous organic fruit and veg only to sell it all off at market and not have any left over for ourselves. It's been a few years since we used that realisation to set up a big kitchen garden right outside our house. And it's been a few years of feeding ourselves before the business.

But now that I have three at school, my book has gone to print and we are back from overseas, I feel like there's room in my life to go further. To do more.

There's not a lot of time. The slow life is a pretty busy life. But while I'm gathering tomatoes, or kindling, or eggs, I'm also gathering ideas. Maybe a couple of milking goats and some cheese making, maybe some sheep for shearing and wool spinning, maybe a bit of work on a way to grow citrus, maybe a paddock of wheat for bread and chook food? So many maybes.

It's a work in progress and a constant reassessment.

I feel like this is an important time for us and I'm excited. (Although I do sometimes wish that cleaning my house gave me more of a buzz.)

So tell me peeps, what is your passion?
What keeps you up at night and gets you out of bed in the morning?
What makes you happy and feeds your soul?

I hope you have such a happy week my friends.

xx

Toffee apples.

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Thu, 25 Apr 2013 11:08:00 +0000

This autumnal afternoon in April, after weeks of picking, drying, bottling, stewing and baking apples, when Miss Jazzy suggested we make toffee apples, I jumped at the idea. And then I sent her and her sisters down to the orchard to pick some.

They came back with a box of Splendors and a fistful of sticks and we got to work.

We followed this recipe.

Delicious heritage apples picked fresh from the tree, toffee cooked from the very best certified organic ingredients, excitement in the anticipation, delight in the crunch, pure childhood joy!!

Years ago I made toffee apples and sold them at farmer's markets, today I enjoyed not worrying about the bubbles and just enjoyed the process.

And they were declared the best toffee apples EVER!!

Toffee apples in Autumn are going to be a family tradition at ours now I think.

When was the last time you enjoyed the sweet childhood fave?
If you close your eyes can you remember that mix of sweet and tart?
The crack of the toffee and the crunch of the apple?
Deeelish!

Later
xx

Oh and my book is going to the printers tomorrow. OH MY GOODNESS!!!
I'll show you the cover in a few days time. Eeeeeeeeep!!

This post is out of date.

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Tue, 23 Apr 2013 02:00:00 +0000

Almost all of these photos were taken last Friday and Saturday when the warmth of summer was still in the air and my world was filled with tomatoes.

Little smiley cheeks filled with fat tomatoes, colanders in the poly tunnels and vegie gardens and market gardens over-flowing with tomatoes, crates full of tomatoes on the kitchen floor and plates ripening on the kitchen window sill, hours and hours spent picking and sorting and eating and cooking tomatoes.

So. Many. Tomatoes.

Last week my kitchen was a tomato preserving factory. Pots filled with tomatoes simmering on the Esse, piles of clips and rings and lids and bottles being washed and sterilised and waiting to be put to use.

Bottles filled with the delicious flavours and aromas of summery sunshine; onion, garlic, basil and tomato.

And the Fowlers machine was bubbling away, an hour and a half at a time, preserving these bottles full of rosy goodness for the leaner, colder months ahead.

We grew an enormous amount of tomatoes this year. In years gone by we would have picked them and package them all up and sold them. But this year I decided to keep them on farm. To feed our family first.

This year I made a commitment to grow enough tomatoes to eat them fresh while they are in season and to preserve enough for our family to eat for an entire year. We eat a lot of tomatoey things so that is a lot. So far I have frozen nine 900gram tubs and filled 118 Fowlers jars, I think I'm close.

But due to our three weeks away, I had counted on a few more weeks of picking and preserving. A few more weeks of reaching under green vines searching out rosy redness and filling up colanders and crates and bowls.

But the last Saturday night the temperature dropped to zero and we had our first frost of the season. The vines were burnt black and the gazillions of green tomatoes waiting to ripen were damaged.

I cried.

And then I picked myself up and picked 10 crates of the best looking green tomatoes to bring inside. I'd love to hang the vines but we have too many hungry mice and possums around.

The chooks will have the time of their lives with the remainders.

I'm grateful we still have the poly tunnels full of healthy happy vines to extend the season a bit longer.

As a farmer I fully understand and acknowledge the importance of the changing of the seasons. I know that so many of the fruits and vegetables we grow here need the iciness of winter just as much as the warmth of summer. I know that frosts and rain and cold are an integral part of the cycle.

But I still find that first frost of the season sad. That first frost signals the end to Summer and the onset of the many long, cold, wet months ahead. The end of red foods and the start of a mostly green diet instead.

So even though I only took these tomato filled photos a couple of days ago, they are already out of date. The time has passed. The season changed.

I'm doing my best to embrace the autumn, the Esse is burning hot, the soup is warming on the hot plates, I'm wearing tights and I'm knitting a scarf. I'm not sure I can bring myself to photgraph the frost burnt vines though, they're still a bit to raw and reminding.

How about you?
How are you with the change of seasons?
Are you heading towards the warmth or the cold?
Have you ever preserved enough to last all winter long?

Keep cozy.

xx

Israel - the cardi

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Sun, 21 Apr 2013 01:54:00 +0000

Last week my gorgeous friend Tania bought a hand knit jumper for five dollars from a girl at a trash and treasure market.

The jumper was all intricately knitted with reindeer and colour-work and patterns. The jumper was knitted from super soft, cuddly wool. And the jumper was knitted for the girl who sold it to Tania by her Mum. For FIVE DOLLARS!!

My Jazzy chose the pink Australian merino wool for this cardigan a few days before we left for Israel.

I cast on and knitted the first few rows at about two o'clock in the morning the night before we left in the hope of convincing airline security that I was indeed a knitter and not just the carrier of two pointy sticks and a ridiculous amount of yarn.

I held my breath each time we passed through the x-ray machines in airports and then happily knitted rows of the lace detail all the way through to the sleeve separation before we landed in Israel.

Jazzy's Israel cardi was the perfect traveling knitting project. Long rows of knit and purl that I could pick up on the bus, or after meals, or in the hotel at night and then shove down deep in my bag under cameras and phones and chargers and bits of paper.

I knitted that cardigan while we were acclimatising on our first few days in Tel Aviv. I knitted it in Jerusalem in between visits to the Old City and the markets. I knitted a big chunk on our trip to the desert down south, if you look carefully I'm sure you'll find bits of Negev sand and dust from the dust storm we got caught up in. I got a lot of knitting done the day we drove from all the way south, all the way up north, lucky I don't get car sick. I knitted the last of the length on our way back to Tel Aviv and decided to save the sleeves for the plane home.

I did worry a bit that I would finish the sleeves to quickly and be left on the plane home with empty, idle hands, but I needn't have.

Again I held my breath each time we passed through airport security. I imagined myself in tears if they took my needles away and how my precious stitches would unravel. But again, the sticks must have looked safe enough and I knitted all the way home.

Short round rows of 53 stitches, all the way home.

There are so many miles in this cardigan. So many stories and adventures and details. From the wool carefully chosen at last year's Bendigo Sheep and Wool show, to the selection of the beautiful Tikki pattern and all that travel in between. I hope My Jazzy wears it often and it reminds her of how loved she is.

But if you happen to see her at a trash and treasure market in about ten years time selling this jumper for $5, would you do me a favour and remind her. Thanks.

Ravelery details here, I'll finalise the yarn totals when I can get it off her.

Big love peeps.

I hope your weekend is delicious.

I'm off to deal with the carnage left by the first frost of the season. Ouch!

creative space

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Thu, 18 Apr 2013 04:57:00 +0000

I only saw one female artist/crafter the whole time we were in Israel. She was in Tel Aviv at a craft market and she was crocheting the finest cotton thread into necklaces and earrings and brooches. Her work was beautiful and I stood there for a while watching her hands perform those familiar stitches over and over again.

Male artists/crafters we saw aplenty.

They were old and they were young, and they were making in shops, in the street and in market stalls. We saw shoe makers and carpet weavers and jewelers and painters and wood workers and tailors.

We saw a guy sitting just outside his shop in one the busiest streets of Tel Aviv carefully mending a Persian carpet. Strand by colourful strand he wove the colours back into the worn patch oblivious to our watching eyes.

We saw men hunched over parchment painting intricate landscapes and scenes using calligraphy quotations from the Bible.

We saw a man in a busy market place on an ancient treadle sewing machine mending clothes and chatting to passers by.

And we saw this man. He hesitated when I asked him through a translator what word he'd use to describe his art and eventually settled on silver smith. We thought artist or artisan was more apt.

This man was tucked up in the side of his tiny shop in the ancient cobble-stone lined city of Tsfat in the North of Israel. As we walked around admiring his gallery, he continued the intricate work he was doing on a Hanukkiyah undistracted.

Despite the fact that our family virtually filled his space to overflowing and I was moving around taking photos of everything I could, he seemed happy and relaxed and comfortable.

I think I love to watch artists/crafters work almost as much as I love to create myself.

I love watching their hands making the work, sometimes careful and concentrated and sometimes fluent and fluid and flying. I love examining their tools and how they are organised, particularly if they show signs of being homemade and well loved. I love imagining the story of how they began; was it a family trade passed down through the generations, was there a mentor/apprentice type of exchange, or was it self taught?

I wonder how long they have been sitting in that spot, doing that thing.

I wonder if the carpet repairer ever wishes he made the whole carpet, if the tailor swears when he breaks a needle and if the calligraphers have to start again if they make a mistake.

I couldn't get this guy out of my head for ages after we left his little shop. I thought of him hunched over his beautiful work day in-day out, creating the most incredible artworks that now grace the mantlepieces and walls of homes all across the globe. I wish I got a wider shot of his shop so you could see his little work area set into the wall amidst his treasures, just beautiful.

My own makings have been far from successful since we've been home. I seem to be unravelling and unpicking everthing I start. I'm blaming the jet lag.

I hope you are feeling inspired and creative.
What are you making/baking/growing?
More creative spaces here.

Wow, is that the time?
I'm off to pick up my girlies.

Bye. xx

my girlies.

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Sun, 14 Apr 2013 09:48:00 +0000

Portraits of my three.

I know I'm late to Jodi's portrait party, but better week 15 than never hey.

So here goes;

Miss Pepper sitting on the slippery (she had a bruised elbow to prove it) steps of Rosh Pina, one of the oldest Jewish agricultural settlements of Israel.

Miss Jazzy on the roof of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in the Old City of Jerusalem.

Miss Indi sitting on a bench in the back alleys of Jerusalem while we were wandering around looking for a cafe/bookshop. There was a homeless man hovering over us and as soon as we left he lay himself down for a rest.

Ohmygoodness, were we really there just a few days ago? Wow!!

So there's my set.
Are you playing along with Jodi's portrait a week too?
Have you been keeping up?
Have you portraited this week? Maybe I'll come and visit at four in the morning when jet-lag is kicking my bum.

Big portrait love and have a rad week you guys.

xx

home

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Sat, 13 Apr 2013 13:35:00 +0000

We're home and I don't know what the words are, the feelings are all jumbled up inside me. I'm hoping it's the jet lag. We've travelled far over the past few weeks and our eyes and hearts and minds have been wide open. We've covered some serious ground and been inspired like never before.

And now after 30 hours of travel door to door, we're home. After delayed flights, four crappy movies, a vomiting child, awful plane food and losing seven hours of time, here we are.

After breaking all the jet lag recovery rules and sleeping through most of the day I woke up this afternoon and felt ghastly. Sort of shaky and unbalanced. Like I'm not over there anymore, but I'm not really here yet either.

I wandered around the house. I tried to sit down and knit the last eight rows of my cardi, I tried to focus on the movie the girls were watching and I tried to think about considering unpacking. But I just felt lost.

Until someone asked for some rocket and tomatoes for their feta toast. And that forced me into my boots and jacket and out of the house.

And lucky for me my farmer boy came too.

And as we wandered and weeded and picked and washed, we remembered.

Vegie gardening is ace!

The thrill of seeing how big the seeds we planted three weeks ago have grown, the smell of freshly picked coriander and rocket, the excitement of discovering red tomatoes amidst the jungle of green, pulling up bunches of colourful carrots, admiring the flowers - both the planted ones and those of vegies gone to seed and the feel of the last minutes of sunlight on our skin. With our hands in the soil, for the first time in days our feet were on the ground.

This coming home bit feels a bit icky, but we'll be ok.

Our home is where the five of us are...and where our kitchen garden grows.

xx

Feast

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Thu, 04 Apr 2013 13:23:00 +0000

I'm so behind on the blogging of this trip that I don't even know where to start. In the last few days since I posted we left Jerusalem, we visited Beit Guvrin and did an archaeological dig and found 2,500 year old ceramics. We stayed and played at Kibbutz Ein Gedi, we watched the sunrise at Masada after waking up at 4.20am and climbing two km and 350m in altitude in the dark. We experienced a hamsin/dust storm in the Negev desert, we floated in the lowest and saltiest sea on earth, the Dead Sea. We walked Nachal David and swam in its desert waterfalls. We stopped by the side of the road and collected multi coloured sand to layer in our bottles and then we drove down to Mitzpe Ramon and checked into the most magnificent hotel on earth right on the edge of the crater. Since we've been here we've visited a soap factory, swam in the pool, eaten waaaaaay too much, and been on a jeep tour of Makhtesh Ramon.

So how on earth do I catch up? I guess I take my own advice and tell one story. Well that's what I told my girls who are behind in their journals too.

So this story is about a meal. Aren't most stories about meals when you're traveling?!

This story starts just after we left the archaeological dig last Sunday. We were hot and dusty and hungry and we were preparing for a big, long drive down south. Our tour guide and driver had a few suggestions for lunch stops along the way, but Bren's sister and family had other ideas. They wanted to go back to a small place they had eaten at once before and loved.

Somehow we wound our way through the narrow streets to Abu Gosh, an Arab town 10km outside Jerusalem. Somehow Bren's sister and family looked at all the other restaurants and cafes we passed by and found their way back to the right one. And somehow they convinced our tour guide and driver that it was OK for us all to eat there even though they were wary as they had never eaten there before.

And as we walked in the owner recognised them from their last visit. He recalled what they had eaten and where they had sat. And then he took our order and brought us back so many plates that they didn't all fit on the table at once.

So this is a story of big plates of hummus. Of pita and tahini and labena and felafel's and schug. This is a story of salads and pickles and olives and chips. This is a story of schnitzel and kebabs. And this is a story of limonana, the most delicious icy lemon, mint drink I have ever drunk.

This is the story of one of those meals that etches itself in your mind. This is a story that will become a memory that has smells and sounds and tastes attached. This is a story of meal shared with family. Of laughter and chatter and full bellies. This very meal may have been the conception of farmer Bren's humus baby.

This is a story of a place filled with hookahs/water pipes. Where the waiters bring sweet smelling tobacco to your table and light you up.

This is a story where the soundtrack is loud Arabic music and conversations in Hebrew and Arabic.

This was a wonderful story. A Middle Eastern Feast story. A story of stepping off the tourist trail for a while and finding a gem. This was a story where we were too full to even contemplate desert but the owner sent us off with a packet of baklava for later.

All journeys are filled with stories, but particularly these stories of life and culture on the other side of the planet feel important. Important for us to experience and to record. What a gift to be able to see these things for ourselves. The architecture, the language, the customs, the music, the clothing, the currency, the politics, the way of life and of course the food.

We're going on a camel ride this afternoon and then we're heading North for our last few days in the morning. It's all flying by so fast. I've been trying to convince my farmer boy to stay on here for another month. I'm so not ready to go home to the cold and the routine.

If you want to fill in some of the unblogged gaps in our trip you could check me out on instagram at foxslane. Otherwise hopefully I'll get to them here at some stage. Hopefully.

I think I might go for a walk now and take some photos of this amazing place in the middle of the desert. Or maybe I'll find my boy and get him to make me a Turkish coffee. Decisions, decisions...

I hope you guys are making happy memories and wonderful stories too.

Big love.

And shalom x

Machane Yehuda

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Sat, 30 Mar 2013 19:42:00 +0000

On Friday we visited Machane Yehuda, Jerusalem's food market. Being food growers and market sellers and goers ourselves, you can imagine how excited we were.

Machane Yehuda is made up of about 250 stalls selling seasonal fruit and veg, eggs, cheese, seeds, spices, nuts, meat, fish, baked goods, jewelery and textiles.

The atmosphere is electric with shoppers choosing and buying, sellers handing out samples, weighing, socialising and SPRUIKING!! Spruiking is like a competitive sport at the market. Each stall holder shouting out, one after another, getting louder and louder and louder until the noise is deafening. I caught my girls walking along with their hands over their ears more than once.

The varieties! The smells! The personalities! The foods I've never seen before and have no idea what they are. The lack of sterile health regulations governing stall holders. The dude above was smoking that cigar while filleting fish and serving customers and no one seemed to notice!

And there was masses of new season's garlic grown in the desert. How gorgeous is that wreath. I'm going to have to have a go at making one of them next season I think.

There was fun new fruit to try, like pomellos and cups filled with pomegranate seeds.

And vintage cigarette displays!!

Can you imagine cigarettes for sale at one of our farmer's markets?!?

And see those roll ups in the middle of that display? They are dried apricot and I have been dreaming of them for 20 years. They don't taste anything like the roll ups we make or buy back home. They are absolutely delicious. I used to buy one every time I caught a bus from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv way back then. And slowly tear little bits off and nibble them. I could make one last the entire one hour's drive. My girls aren't so patient, the one we bought at market was gobbled up less that five minutes after it was unwrapped.

The hardest part of our visit to Machane Yehuda was holding ourselves back from buying everything. EVERYTHING!! Somebody mentioned that this trip will be a 5kg trip, but it could so easily blow out and become 10kg.

We're heading down south tomorrow morning early. I think my girlies will be happy to get out of the city for a while. Our time is speeding by, it's been a week already. But oh what a week.

Bren's on the bed watching a movie with Michelle Williams as Marilyn Monroe, I'm off to finish packing and then I'll join him.

Thank you guys so much for your lovely comments, I'm so loving taking you along on our journey.

So what are you up to?
Are you having a lovely weekend?
I hope so.

Be good lovely peeps and happy travels. xx

#Jerusalem

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Fri, 29 Mar 2013 19:27:00 +0000

We are in Jerusalem and I feel like a kid in a candy store. I am fit to burst. I want to know everything and do everything. Every other time I've been here, I've been more interested in meeting up with friends, shopping, getting drunk or chasing boys. But this time I really want to be here and I want to know why; Why is he wearing that? What is that hat made out of? Why are there numbers on the bricks? What does that scrawly writing mean? How old is this place? Where can we get the best hummus?

And I want to know who all these men at the market in the Old City are. How long they have been doing what they do. Where they get their wares from. How much does it cost to rent a stall there and do leases come up often? Where their wives and families are. What their houses look like and what they'll eat for dinner.

I think I am becoming nosier as I get older.

And I want to look at everything. And taste everything. And know it's name. And it's history.

Jerusalem is probably the craziest place I have ever been. It is a melting pot of so many cultures and religions and nationalities. Everywhere you look there are people in different costumes, speaking different languages, on different missions.

I'm not sure any of the religious stuff is really for me, but I love Jerusalem's culture. I love the intensity and the feeling. It feels rich. It feels like it is filled with stories. I'm really fascinated by those stories.

And I'm fascinated by the experience my girlies are having. I wonder how much of this they are taking in. How much they'll remember. What they'll tell their friends when we get home. Jerusalem sure is a long way from Daylesford.

I hope you are well and happy lovely peeps.

I hope your weekend is magic.

Happy travels. xx

flea market

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Thu, 28 Mar 2013 19:15:00 +0000

Yesterday, on our last day in Tel Aviv, we climbed the stairs and walked the stone floors of the old Port city of Yaffo/Jaffa. It was a public holiday and there were loads of people around but still we found our place and our pace.

The girls counted stray cats, watched videos of jewelery making and posed for angel photos. While we admired gates and windows and colours and spoke of how inspiring travel is. How opening our eyes to new things also opens our minds and our hearts.

After Yaffo, we made our way through more Tel Aviv streets to Shuk HaPishpeshim, the most wonderful and enormous flea market.

Last time I was in Israel I spent so much time at this market looking at and buying old clothes, jewelery, bits of Bedouin embroidery and other odds and ends. It is such a crazy mixture of old and new, clean and filthy, treasure and rubbish.

I could spend weeks in that market treasure hunting, unfortunately we were bound by time and tired little feet.

So we headed back to enjoy one last night with this as our hotel window view. A bit different to the forest view outside my bedroom window in our little farm in Daylesford hey.

And then this morning we drove to Jerusalem for the next chapter of our adventure. What a crazy, amazing day. I'll blog it tomorrow, right now I'm exhausted and off to sleep.

Layla tov (goodnight!)

Carmel market

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Wed, 27 Mar 2013 19:40:00 +0000

This morning we walked down the Tel Aviv streets to Shuk HaCarmel - The Carmel market. I've been looking forward to visiting the Israeli markets more than just about anything else on this trip. The smells, the colours, the flavours, the people, the noises, the culture...

And Oh. My. Goodness. What an adventure.

We found...

Spices of every type you can imagine.

Towers and stacks of breads of every shape and size, even though it's Passover.

Olives! (I've eaten so many I may just turn into an olive by the end of this.)

So many flavours of Turkish delight.

Pens and iphone cases and clothes and shoes and sunglasses and underwear and jewelery and lighters too.

Have you ever tasted dried pineapple? Dried kiwi fruit? Dried banana? Dried cherries? So much YUM!

Gorgeous looking fresh fruit and veg.

We bought the coffee flavoured halva.

Jazzy's heaven on earth.

Towers of sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeets.

Ha!

Yep we found some organics too.

We filled our backpacks and we filled our camera memory cards.

We had such a wonderful market day. My heart and my head and my tummy are full.

I feel crazily, ridiculously, inspired and excited.

I hope you are traveling well my friends.
I'll show you the pics I took at the flea market soon.
We're heading to Jerusalem tomorrow early.

Shalom. xx

in Israel

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Tue, 26 Mar 2013 14:41:00 +0000

Very late last Friday night I finally put the last of the bottled tomatoes up on the shelf and the last of the stewed apples away in the freezer and went to my bedroom to pack for Israel. To pack clothes and toiletries and craft supplies for three spring weeks on the other side of the planet in a country I hadn't visited for 20 years. A country I hadn't visited for 20 years but had at different times in my life called home.

And as I slowly started gathering and packing it occurred to me how little I had really thought about this trip. With the craziness of finishing my book, the autumn picking and preserving and the mothering, I hadn't really thought beyond the where we'll go and what we'll see. I hadn't really imagined how I would feel visiting a place that once upon a time I knew so well.

And now we're here, far, far away from our little farm in Daylesford, I realise that I could never have imagined the tiny details that are leading me tripping down my memory lane. Even if I'd had a second to think about it.

Those tiny milk bar type shops dotted all over the place that sell nuts and seeds and cigarettes and newspapers and lollies.

The feel of a warm paper bag full of sunflower seeds in my hand. The crack of the salty shell and the taste of the fresh nut in my mouth.

The street food; the pita stuffed full of felafel, salads, humous, tahini and pickles and the cheese borekkas.

The air-conditioners hanging out from every window and the hot water units on every roof.

The Hebrew language, written and spoken, that once felt so natural and comfortable and now feels sticky and foreign but still so familiar and somehow comforting.

The geography, the names of the streets, the look of the streets and how it feels to be walking down those same streets again after all this time.

The culture. The fire drums in the street on the day before Passover for people to dispose of their bread products before the festival.

The memory I have of the best watermelon icy-pole ever that keeps me searching the freezers of every shop we pass just in case we can find it again.

The relief that comes with finding a wool shop, just in case. To be truthful I packed enough wool to knit for months, but that's not the point now is it.

The feeling I get when I watch my family, our family, our kids, running through the streets that we once ran through. Watching them slowly learning bits of the language and experimenting with the food. Seeing this world through their eyes. Introducing them to places and people and memories from our pasts. Feeling like this is a big trip, an important trip.

Looking forward to watching where our adventure takes us next and the memories it evokes.

Remembering where I have come from and who I was back then.

Enjoying being led on this journey. Being in the moment. Smelling and tasting and seeing and hearing.

Being aware that I may not be able to take a zillion photos and write a blog a day like I had hoped. Right now experience seems more important than capture and document.

Traveling.

Have you done this? Have you visited a place you once called home?
Do you know that familiarly different feeling?
Do you ever feel home when you're far far away?

Happy days friends,
Shalom. xx

The ends

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Thu, 21 Mar 2013 08:54:00 +0000

It's getting so close to the end.

The book blanket and the book are almost finished. Almost.

All those long straggly bits are slowly being darned in, one by one, and then snipped off. What began as an idea is slowly becoming something you can hold in your hands. Something you can sit on the couch and enjoy.

Over the past few days I've seen the first pages (OMG!!), written my dedication, my acknowledgments, an extra para for the food section and a couple of tiny changes that have been rattling around in the back of my head for a while. I've sewn some little bits and pieces and I've taken a couple of last minute photos.

Tying up all the loose ends is hard for a disorganised person like me. Part of me wants to get on with next thing, to start something new. But for once I've worked to a list and I think I've remembered everything.

The book has gone now. One more look through from the editor, then to the type setter and then off to the printer. I wont see it again til August. August!! Oh my gosh.

And the book blanket still needs a few ends darned in and then it's done too. I still haven't decided whether or nor I'll crochet it a border. I think we'll live with it for a while and then decide.

And the next project? A cardigan made from one of the above. Miss Jazzy gets to decide which, although I'm pretty sure I know which one she'll choose already.

We're heading off on a 24 hour plane trip on Saturday, so I'm hoping to get a big chunk knitted up pretty soon. That is if the peeps at the airport let me take my needles on the plane. Fingers crossed.

So that's me. How about you?
Are you any good at tying up loose ends? At darning in the dangley bits?
At writing THE END before moving on to the next big thing?

Be good peeps.
Lotsa love xx

our village grows

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Tue, 19 Mar 2013 11:06:00 +0000

Finally my parents sold their Tassie farm. They packed all their belongings into a shipping container, sailed the ferry across Bass Strait and ate pancakes for breakfast with us last Sunday morning.

I'm not sure how many years we've been waiting for them to be our across the Lane neighbours, but it feels like so many. So many plans made, so many meals imagined, so many every day life scenarios looked forward to.

Apple picking all together, the seven of us, is definitely something we've been excited for.

This afternoon after school, I texted my Mum to let her know we were heading down to the orchard to pick the Cox's Orange Pippins. Ten minutes later on their way home from getting their new library cards in town, my parents joined us. Together, us seven, we filled the picking bags and crates with apples. Laughing and chatting and reminding each other of how long we'd talked about that very moment.

We're so thrilled to have them here. Everything's a first, it's so fun and exciting. It's hard to imagine that it's real, that they are here for the long term and not ever going back. It's hard to imagine that I'll have my parents and my girlies will have their grandparents to share our lives with.

I've often thought about that saying it takes a village to raise a child since moving away from ours 12 years ago. Now I'm thrilled our girls' village will be closer and easier than a phone call, drive or flight. Indi will have somewhere to run away from home to, Jazzy will have four more ears to read to and Pepper will have somewhere to ride her bike down the hill to.

It feels so right.

Welcome Mum and Dad! We hope our home becomes your home so, so soon. xx

So how about you, do you have your village there with you?
Do your parents/children play a part in your day-to-day life?
Would you like them to?
Do you like the good old Cox's Orange Pippin?

See ya later potata x

a (Fri)day in my life

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Sat, 16 Mar 2013 01:40:00 +0000

Yesterday.

After the girls were fed, dressed, braided and driven off to school, I started the day with a couple of batches of pesto. I put Lisa Mitchell on the stereo and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on my back as I snipped the basil leaves off their stems and inhaled their delicious summery aroma.

After I had jarred the pesto and done the dishes I moved onto the tomatoes.

Thursday's tomatoes.

I cooked them quickly on the stove to soften them, moulied them, cooked them up with some onion, garlic, rosemary and basil and then I labelled them and popped them in two containers into the chest freezer.

Then my farmer boy came home and we drank coffee. Ahhhhhhh...

And we dressed in our white bee suits, lit the smoker and visited a few of our bee hives. We scraped a bit of their honey comb from their lids but nothing they would miss. And they looked good and happy so we left them to it.

Then it was time to pick up the girls. So we did. And we took them out for ice cream to celebrate Friday. Yay for Friday!

It had been a short week but a big week and our girlies were exhausted, so we came home and popped them in front of a movie with blankets and bowls of cut up apple.

And me and my farmer boy went out to prepare for the possibility of rain. First by chopping the stems off the onions and garlic we'd had hanging and drying and bringing them inside. It'll be soup season before we know it. Then we took the ute and a trailer and went out into the forest to collect a load of wood and kindling for the fire.

The wood we collected had been cut two years ago and was nice and dry and seasoned and will burn beautifully and keep us warm and cook our food over the next few weeks.

And then I picked Friday's tomatoes.

When the girls' movie finished we bundled them in the car and went down to the orchard to pick the Prima apples (my favourite so far) and the 20 Ounce apples (the biggest so far).

And somehow we lost track of time and to-do lists and stresses and dead lines and played for a while.

For a while, until it started to get dark and cold and hungry.

Then we came up to the house, rolled out some pasta, cut it into circles, filled each circle with last season's spinach and some ricotta, and then chopped up another tomato-ey sauce.

Home made ravioli with a bit of grated Parmesan and a few basil leaves on top....deeeeeeeeeeeelicious.

And then girls went to bed. Phew.

And me and my farmer boy got busy processing tomatoes again and making the first load of Fowlers for the season.

Then more dishes and a wipe down of the stickiest kitchen in town.

A vodka with ginger beer. An episode of Smash.

A shower.

BED!!!!

Autumn, you are bountiful and colourful and aromatic. You keep me crazy busy. My to-do list could fill a chapter book. And I feel happy.

How are you traveling lovely peeps?
What does a day in your life look like at the moment?
I hope your weekend is filled with wonderful.
I'm off to gather Saturday's tomatoes.

Happy travels x

basket case

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Wed, 13 Mar 2013 00:47:00 +0000

Last week I somehow convinced my farmer boy that adding to my vintage basket collection was a matter of urgent business importance. Not only that, but I convinced him to spend Thursday afternoon driving around hunting down the woven treasures.

I'm a little bit in love with the old baskets. I love their shapes, the feel of the old wicker, the bits of colour used to highlight and to cover the handles and the thoughts of the stories they hold.

I carry a basket full of crap wherever I go. I also have most of my wool collection tucked up neatly in baskets and then I've got a few filled with other odds and ends.

Our builder Mick, who is going to build my studio one day, is designing one whole wall for basket storage. Baskets are functional and decorational (?), win, win!

So naturally when it came to freshening up our farmer's market stall to show off our new season's apples, I thought of baskets. A bunch of baskets filled with apples sitting on a red and white checkered table-cloth. Now why haven't I ever thought of that before?!

So we basket hunted, and we basket bought, and we basket filled and we basket loved. And we chatted baskets with so many people on market day. It actually surprised me how many people stopped to take photos and how many people had basket stories of their own to tell. Old baskets, family heirloom baskets, romantic picnic baskets, baskets on top of fridges, Lego filled baskets, market baskets...so many baskets. So many bits of wicker woven into vessels. So much gorgeousness.

So how about you? Are you a basket user? A basket collector? A basket lover?
Is there a special basket in your life?
I reckon there just might be.

Be good peeps.

xx

Sunny days

noreply@blogger.com (Kate) — Sun, 10 Mar 2013 09:00:00 +0000

Yesterday morning, far too early, we pulled our girls out of their cozy beds, dressed them in their day clothes, put them in the car and dragging a trailer filled with produce we drove all the way to Melbourne. For most of the drive it was dark, we watched the other cars and wondered where they were going and we watched as the sky slowly lightened, filled with streaky sunrise magnificence and then Saturday settled in and made itself comfortable for the day.

After a while we arrived at the Children's farm. We set up our stall, we gossiped with our farmer neighbours, we sold our produce, we bought lots of other people's produce, we chatted with our gorgeous customers, we packed up and then we drove all the way home.

An hour and a half there, five and a half hours at market and then an hour and a half home.

Home. Exhausted. All of us. Hurty tired.

We sat around for a while watching a movie and eating market olives, cheese and bread.

And then it was time to do the evening chores. All I wanted was to sit on my bum, but the taps and pumps and filters and tomatoes called. So we put on our boots and wandered down the hill.

We wandered slowly at first, dragging our feet. And then faster and faster as our bodies filled with fresh farm air, our eyes took in the beauty of where we live and our hearts felt grateful. From barely being able to walk at first, we soon found ourselves dancing, and singing and laughing like the kookaburras.

And playing in the sunflowers. And smiling. It's hard not to smile amidst such golden gorgeousness. Impossible probably.

I wont lie to you, there have been tired tears today and a bit of lying on the ground unable to move. Farming and mothering and marketing and gardening and housing in autumn feels a bit overwhelming sometimes. But when your days are filled with sunflowers and tomatoes and beans and grapes, it's hard to stay down or still for long.

Our new week kicks off tomorrow with a day off school and finishes next weekend with my parents moving here. I'm so excited. Things are about to get awesome.

I hope your new week is awesome too. And sunshiney and delicious.

Got anything exciting planned?

See ya sunflower x