That’s what I did today.  There is much sorting, packing, tidying and organising to do.  Not to mention the little painting workshop that has appeared downstairs, where all the furniture that I’ve been GOING to paint all year, is now being frantically painted before the removalists come.  (Odd you might think, but I have four litres of paint that the removalists will not take, for insurance reasons, and I want the furniture looking beautiful and peaceful when it arrives in Melbourne :-)

But after working so hard all week, I pushed all this aside today, took a freshly washed vintage woollen blanket from the clothesline - full of the sweet warmth of a Brisbane spring morning - and hunted down all those yellows that I was working with much, much earlier in the year - do you remember?  Julian’s white and yellow quilt?

Well - I just wasn’t thrilled with what lay in a tiny heap on the table before me.  The only thing to do was start again - with this beautiful blanket, metres of crisp white linen (a fabric that sings of Brisbane summers), the scraps of my earlier efforts, and a couple of metres of divine Lakehouse yellow.

I also found the yellow dresden plate I made AGES ago.  And the wee white one that sits on top.  Perfect to form the centre of the new quilt - the rich, honeyed, brightness of a Brisbane spring sun as well as the velvety, fresh white of the frangipanis that are exploding into leaf and flower all over our neighbourhoods.

It was bliss - sitting on the back porch, the three juvenile magpies that are currently living somewhere in the back corner, warbling away in their jolly, mischevious voices; the flamboyant lorikeets refusing to be intimidated by the cranky noisy miners and feeding to their hearts content on the vivid pink flowers of one of our rainforest trees; the doggles sprawled, sleeping and snoring in the sun, and that beautiful, beautiful sea breeze caressing my arms.

I will miss this so much.  It is truly Brisbane’s most perfect time of year.

But I have quilted my happiness to be sitting here, right now, into this quilt which will lay across our bed in our Melbourne home, keeping us warm and snug during the long, grey Melbourne winter.  Every morning, the cooler southern sun will sparkle off the dresden plate’s radiant yellows, and I will feel the warmth of the spring sun on my arms.  The crisp white linen will rest softly against my skin, just as the sea breeze that brings me so much peace.

The wee flowers in each corner, will remind me of the thrill when the bare, coral-like branches of the frangipani recognise that spring has indeed sprung, and fill our backyards with flowers.

And I will be happy to have this little bit of Brisbane with me as we make the most of our new adventure.  .

Details were finalised last Friday.  Julian will receive the keys next Monday.  The furniture and ME will arrive the Monday after.  And hopefully by the end of that week, I’ll have unpacked and set up most of our home.

I am beside myself with relief and happiness.  Isn’t it sweet?!  It’s a 1920s Californian Bungalow.  Double brick.  Three bedrooms (1 for Julian and I, 1 for Abigail, 1 for guests).  A living room.  A dining room.  A HUGE kitchen with a breakfast nook.  A laundry (this is a true novelty for us Queensland folk - our laundrys are traditionally under the house in the dirt and wet!).  A double garage and workshop (for Julian’s bicycle building).  And … are you ready for this … a wee sewing studio/house in the corner of the back garden.  :-) Eeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!

There are so many gorgeous features ….  a dear little, sun-filled front porch with gorgeous columns entwined with leaves.

A soaring chimney (on a wee note of disappointment - the fireplaces have been filled in - never mind - at least we have fireplaces and beautiful art deco mantlepieces).

Roses and roses and more roses …

A wall of jasmine - this is incredibly delightful for me, as the blooming of the jasmine each spring is one of my favourite moments in the Brisbane year, and thus will help me feel a little less homesick.

And - this is awfully exciting! - we are within walking distance of two wonderful little shopping strips.  10 minutes walk to the left and we find a Kosher Danish bakery, a chocolate cafe, and a bicycle shop (Julian is in awe).  10 minutes walk the other way, and there’s a grocery store, fruit and veg store, newsagent, post office, cafes, restaurants, train station and even a wee thrift shop!  I will be able to walk my cheerful pink shopping trolley up to the shops each morning and buy our fresh food.  Awesome!

It’s utterly wonderful.  And our sweet little house even has a name - Rehutai.  I googled it and apparently Rehutai belongs to a Maori myth.  She was one of twin sisters who both loved the same brave warrior.  One day, whilst collecting water, Rehutai’s sister muddied the water and ran back to the village.  Rehutai waited patiently for the water to clear before filling the water gourds.  When she returned to the village, her sister had taken the cloak of the brave warrior - which meant they were married.  In sorrow, Rehutai ran away.  She climbed to the top of a nearby mountain where she sat in the mist and was never seen again.

It is a sad tale - not sure what significance it has for our home. :-)  Perhaps it is a reminder to do the right thing, even though it may cost us what we long for.  Who knows!

I do know that I feel so excited about what is coming up in the next few weeks.  I will be SO busy and there is so much to do.  But it is good busy-ness and I know that we will have wonderful family times in this new home.

Heeeeeeeeeeee!

Cosy, pretty rag rugs … I’m weaving a toothbrush rug for the spare bedroom so that when you come to stay, your toesies will be warm!  Or at least, I was.  ‘Til Toph ate the rug making tool in the above photo.  Hmph.  I have bought a very fine paintbrush from the hardware store with a similar size hole in the handle - I’m hoping to chop off the brush and carve the end into a nice replacement needle.  That dog!

Knitting on the go … that take-along has come everywhere with me the last couple of weeks.  It’s amazing how many more rows you can add to a snug shawl throughout the day.

Only two more rows and I’m ready to add the fringe.  I cannot imagine a shawl without a fringe.  I might try a knotted one this time.  And it’s a lovely size - it will go down to my waist and wrap right around the front.  Good thing - Julian says it has been cold and dismal in Melbourne this week.  That’s Melbourne for you - middle of spring and still cool.

Finishing the art supply cupboard … I did try stencilling, but my skills at this technique are quite limited and there was too much bleeding.  It looked sweet - but not good enough - I’ll practice a bit more before stencilling furniture again :-)  So I’ve repainted the side panels of the cupboard and cut “stencils” out of pretty wrapping paper from Coming up Roses.

But no matter how busy we are, preparing for our very imminent move, there’s always time for birthday cake for Old Nanny - Happy Birthday Dear Nanny!

So looking around for white … hmmm …. there are the pews on the back porch we painted white a few years ago (much to EVERYONE’S horror).  And we love them very muchly but so do the doggles … yup, browny-grey.

Then there’s the sofa and armchairs newly returned from the upholsterer.  They are spiffy white!  Alas, they are hiding in the shadowy bedrooms (making getting into bed interesting!) so as to avoid the fate of the pews.  I’m in love with them.  Roadside hard rubbish - my favourite way to shop!

A-ha!  I open the fridge and I see LOTS of white.  We are dairy mad here in Bootville.  We drink gallons of milk, buckets of yoghurt and bricks of cheese.  Yum! Yum!

Sometimes, when I rush through the supermarket for supplies, I find myself at the counter with a whole trolley of white.  A little concerning - I think if your meal - or trolley - is all one colour, it may be a wee bit nutritionally UNbalanced.  Good thing we put the goats cheese with beetroot and spinach; the feta with pumpkin and lamb; the yoghurt with berries and bananas.  But all that milk - nah, we just guzzle it down as is and feel immensely grateful to have such lovely organic milk at our fingertips.  Long live Barambah!

p.s. I don’t know what we’ll do when we move - Barambah don’t supply Victoria - I’ll have to go on the hunt for another dairy - and make sure we drink up big when we’re visiting home!

For more corners of white visit:  visit Jane at Spaindaily for the list!  I did try to include it here but mucked it up somehow.  So check out the wonderful list of corner views at Jane’s beautiful blog.

So! Things are looking pretty cheery and comfortable - I hope :-)  - and now that I’m back in Brisbane, I’m determined to get lots of things ready for the new home.  Finish the half painted furniture.  Make a quilted floor rug for the kitchen.  And pack of course.  But for now, here’s a little something that will hopefully hang in front of a pretty window, reminding me of my beloved Pacific Ocean.

We all have our “things” that allow us to slip into that lovely trance like state of peace and contentment.  For some it’s music, for others it is scent, and so on. For me, it is a breeze.  An afternoon breeze.  The kind that feels that it has danced straight in from the ocean, carrying with it the warmth of sun drenched sand, the cool crispness of gentle waves as they float by me, the tang of salt, and the happiness of long, summer holidays by the sea.

As soon as that breeze picks up, I turn off the music, head out doors and soak it in.  The whoosh as it roams past my ears, the tickle as my hair dances around my head.  I feel alive in the afternoon breeze.  No wonder than, that I love mobiles.  I have all sorts - the traditional chime varieties, silver forks and spoons hanging from driftwood in my kitchen, Japanese paper cranes twirling around my room, strands of starlights that hang in the doorways.  And now, I have the summer boats to match the summer breeze.

I’ve been admiring something similar at Coming Up Roses - a dear little shop in Bulimba that sells beautiful giftware, jewellery and stationery.  I’m talking very special stuff at good prices.  The kind of shop where every corner thrills you with it’s whimsy and charm.  But I digress.  They have a small mobile hanging on their front door of paper boats and every time I walk in, I am enchanted by them.  So, whilst enjoying this afternoon’s breeze, I sat on the back porch and made some of my own.

Very easy, sweetly pretty and a jolly good use of all those magazines that seem to multiply around our home!  Julian drilled through some driftwood from the beach for me, and now, we have boats bobbing about over the bath tub and gliding sedately in the front hall.

Just in case you want some too - I took some pictures and here’s a few words to get you started.  You could easily use pretty paper - there’s so much about.  And I’m also thinking some old music would be good.  But for cheap and available, you cannot beat magazine pages!  And perfect for the small people - as I said, it’s dead easy.

1. So take your magazine page - I’ve used a variety of sizes - and fold it in half, top to bottom.  Crease.

2. Now, fold it in half again, from left to right.  Crease and then unfold.

3. With the first fold to the top, fold the left and right corners in to the crease you made in step 2.

4. Fold the front bottom flap up so that it covers the lower part of your “sails”.

5. Turn over your boat, and fold the back bottom flap up.

6.  Looking boaty - using sticky tape, fold a wee piece around the corners of the folded flaps.

Look at your sweet boat!

7. Using a large needle and a long, long piece of crochet thread or twine, thread your needle and make a quilter’s knot.

8.  Starting with the boat that will be on the bottom, push the needle through the highest point of your “sails” and pull gently, until your quilters knot catches.

9.  Make another quilter’s knot where you would like the highest point of the next boat to sit.  And thread the next boat on as per step 8.

10.  Continue adding boats until you have your desired length.

11.  Drill a hole through a piece of driftwood.  Thread the needle and thread of the boat length through the driftwood, wrap it around twice, tie a knot, and then thread the long strand up through the driftwood and leave long enough to form a loop with which to hang your boats.

Voila!

I tried to vary the look of the boats by choosing my pages.  I used a film festival catalogue for the boats with loads of text, and then carefully chose pages that had an almost all over picture for others.  Remember that the side of the page that is folded in, becomes the folded back flaps.

Enjoy!  And may you find some time today to slip away into a moment of peace and contentment :-)

This afternoon, it truly looked as if old times had returned.  After a very hot and sultry morning, followed by a mesmerising afternoon sea breeze, the sky grew still and dark.  Layers of purply-black thunderous clouds silently drifted in from the west.  The layers began accumulating, the air grew ominously green.  Mum ran downstairs and frantically laid the turf that was still loaded in my car from last night’s trip to the gardening centre.

Will it come?  Won’t it come?  Will it come?  Won’t it come?  Do I need to move the sewing machine?  Should I begin the traditional Brisbane dance of dragging all the furniture in from the edges of the verandahs so as to minimise that which gets wet?

The rain began.  Slow, quiet spots.  Still I sat sewing at my machine.  Cool, soft splashes of water tickled my back and shoulders every few moments, but still, who could tell if we were to be granted that quenching evening spring storm or not?

Now, an hour has passed.  Already the clouds are breaking up.  There is a very gentle shower singing on the tin roof but according to bom (probably one of Australia’s most popular websites!)  it is unlikely we will have our evening spring storm.  Those further north will probably be blessed with our rain :-)

I had hoped for great quilting making today - Julian is en route home from Bahrain, Mum was at work, and Abby completely engrossed in her paper doll production.  But a painful migraine meant that after a few rounds of stitching and some quick chores, the only thing I was good for was a long, afternoon sleep with a cold pack on my head.  Bummer!

I did, however, put the needles back to work with Monday’s thrifted wool - 12 balls of Paton’s 100% totem (mothproofed no less!) for just $4 - a new shawl for the cold days of Melbourne.  I think it will look very pretty - and will always be a fun reminder of our adventure to Boonah and the cream buns. :-)

I’ve reached a new stage in my knitting.  I know it’s only a shawl, but now I can just pick up some wool and needles and start knitting - I don’t need a pattern, my fingers know where to go, the stitches bloom onto my needle and the lovely, warming triangle grows neatly in my hands.  Perhaps one day I will be channeling Elizabeth Zimmerman!

It was a DISASTER!  I can’t really remember why - must have been inaccurate piecing and/or cutting - but the Tin Man’s wife was the WONKIEST thing I have ever made.  Ever.  It was the equivalent of the Irish cheesey bread and butter pudding I made with stock cubes.  Julian compares all my disasters - be they food, fibre or furniture - to the Irish cheesey bread and butter pudding.  It was ghastly.

Anyway - back to the patchwork.  I can’t even tell you where this little disaster of a quilt is - I may have even chucked it but late this afternoon I felt a strong sense of deja vu.

Remember the lovely fabric I was dreaming about yesterday?  Well, I found another vintage blanket in Boonah, and have been  mulling over the patchy options.  I wanted to do another log cabiny kind of design but I wanted the middle square to be very special.  Pieced.  After a few showers (my most creative time) I hit upon a lovely house - fitting in with my current house hunting in Melbourne.

Then, this morning, I felt terribly excited at the thought of adding a wee pieced Lily.  Da-dum Da-dum Da-dum Da-dum.  It’s the tin wife rearing her wonky wonky head again!  I decided to make the wee Lily’s skirt from rectangles - including half rectangle triangles.  Oy! Oy! Oy!  I even bought a special ruler today at the Craft and Quilt Fair but it has failed to do its job. So the skirt was a sucking my breath through my teeth moment - perhaps 15 - 20 of these moments.  Then I completely flopped with the hat. The Tin Man’s Wife …. The Tin Man’s Wife …. The Tin Man’s Wife !!!!!

I shoved the offending ruler under the mounting pile of botched pieces, and thought about the half rectangle triangles.  I needed their finished size to be 2 inches tall by 1 inch wide, so I cut the rectangles 3 inches by 2 inches, then in half diagonally.  I needed to do this twice - in order to make the triangles go one way on one side, and the other way on the other side - I think they call this “mirror image” :-) Then I stitched them together and trimmed them down to the required size.  This was a bit tricksy ’cause there was no angle line to use on my ruler.  I think I coped.  The hat sure looks good and sits nice and flat.  BUT.  My points were completely covered by the 1/4 seam.  Hmmmm …. I think this was inevitable given the narrowness of the angle.  My geometry is appalling so don’t trust me on this - but I think this is why I will NEVER get a point on a 2 by 1 half rectangle triangle.  If you know how - do drop me a line :-)  I would love to be proved wrong.

So here’s Lily with her new house.  Ahhhh - what a dream home - 3 floors (like those wonderful London town houses) - a hall, kitchen and dining room on the ground floor, a sewing studio (with the round window - I LOVE round windows) sitting room and family room on the second floor, and three bedrooms on the top floor.  (I wish).  I do love the house - the colours are so soft and delightful.  And Lily’s growing on me.

I can’t wait to centre Lily and her house on my blanket, and start adding the frames.  Heeeeeee! Heeeeeeee!  And I know where to buy the best priced King Tut thread I have ever seen.  I can feel a weekend of quilting coming up.

p.s.  wee lily will have embroidered eyes and mouth.

p.p.s  sorry about the dreadful photos, it’s that awful night time, no light thing happening - I promise better ones tomorrow

Sometimes I dream the same story over and over.  When I was 11, we lived with my Nanny Dougall for the last three months of her life.  She and my Poppy lived on top of a hill in a tiny village - Harrington - by the sea.  Their house looked down upon a very rough stretch of coastline where the Manning River meets the sea.  No one ever swam or surfed there - it was very dangerous with huge waves and terrible rips.

After Nanny died, I began dreaming that she and I were at the beach, sitting on the sand looking out to sea.  As we watched, the waves grew bigger and bigger and were coming further and further up the beach.  Nanny could not walk - she’d suffered several strokes the day before she died - and no matter how hard I tried, I could not pull her up the beach away from the waves.  In my dream, I grew more and more frantic, but Nanny was washed away and I had to run to reach the hill behind Nanny and Poppy’s hill where the water tower was, to escape the monstrous waves that were swamping all of Harrington, including Nanny’s house.

I dreamt this every month or so throughout my teenage years, but sometime in my early 20s, it stopped.  It’s a funny thing - until my 30s, I thought this dream was related to a fear of rough water.  How daft!  Of course, once I began reading about anxiety, it was very obvious to me the dream was an expression of how helpless I felt when Nanny was sick.  I guess I must have stopped feeling worried about Nanny and her death - for that I’m relieved.  It was a rather panicky dream.

Ugh!  This has become very serious - let’s move on :-)  Once the day is underway, my dreams are much more concrete and usually involve this little girl …

and some of this …

and this …

and this …

And when I sit back after a busy and loving and creative day, and notice the simple beauty of this …

I know that I am living the dream.

This one needs a real makeover.  The tray base is covered in a high gloss laminate - yuck!  The sides have LUMPS of dirty varnish - ugh!  However, I haven’t got around to doing anything with it - apart from using it to hold the drying family memory blocks before Fathers’ Day.  Since then it has sat on the back porch.  It’s even been rained on.

Today I found the perfect use for it.  For weeks, I have been trying - very poorly - to keep the wee half square triangles cut from Sam’s quilt in one spot.  When I remember them, I scoop them all up from here, there and everywhere onto the ironing board, and arrange them back into a teeny quilt.  This always takes a while because I forget how they are supposed to go.  Then, Julian needs to iron a shirt, Mum needs to iron a dress, I need to iron Abby’s school uniform, and the little triangles are scattered to the wind yet again (literally) and I forget about them - yet again.

This morning I had 25 minutes before I needed to leave for work, so instead of enjoying 25 minutes of quiet and peace with a cup of coffee in the back garden, I frantically crawled around the porch floor, gathering up the half square triangles, blowing the red dust off them, and arranging them once again.  Fruitless, because 25 minutes is not long enough to do anything - see, I should have sat in the morning sun and enjoyed a quiet and peaceful coffee.  This morning something had to be done.  In comes the tray.  With a felted bottom.  Perfect.

Eventually, I will clean the poor little tray, sand back its lumpy edges and paint them - not sure which colour - and glue my felt down.  Until then, this will do.  My half square triangles are neatly arranged for the next time I have MORE than 25 minutes, they can be carried from wherever to wherever,  and hopefully the felt will stop them from shifting around.  I knew a wooden tray would come in handy :-)

That’s where we went today.  Well, two thirds of us.  The other third is in Bahrain - you can guess who, can’t you :-)  Today was a pupil free day - isn’t that one weird phrase - and as such, deserved something out of the ordinary.  We started with rice pudding for breakfast - why not!?  If you’d like to make some, here are the quick and easy instructions :

..: Rice Pudding for an out of the ordinary breakfast :..

Melt 60 grams of butter in a large, heavy saucepan over a medium heat.  Add half a cup of arborio rice (uncooked) and a generous tablespoon of brown sugar.  Stir until the butter and sugar are completely melted and have coated the round grains of rice with golden goodness.  Meanwhile, in another saucepan, heat 1 litre of full cream milk with an added tablespoon of vanilla extract.  When the milk is warm to hot (but not boiling), turn down to a simmer and begin adding to the buttery, sugary rice, one ladleful at a time.  Stir to absorb.  Continue to do this - ladleful by ladleful - it will take about half an hour - until all the milk is almost all absorbed and your rice is wonderfully plump and soft to the tooth.  It’s nice to leave it moistly creamy.  Eat greedily.  With a teaspoon so the pleasure lasts longer.  Any leftovers can be kept covered in the fridge and enjoyed cold, but are best eaten surreptitiously whilst you wash up.  Will serve 3 if it must.  :-)

Sitting on the back porch, I then pondered the day’s options.  I could applique my beach/picnic cushions.  I could finish the Moomin applique I have rediscovered and have been working on.  I could make an apron to wear to work tomorrow.  I could finish Abby’s spring pyjamas.  And Abby could sit quietly in her bedroom playing with her little Sylvanian folk or drawing, whilst listening to an audio book.  Or I could acknowledge the delight of a day out of the ordinary, hustle my child through the front door and seek out that with which we are not familiar.  To sweeten the deal, Abby rang Sacha who never requires a great deal of coercion, and off we set.

Boonah was our destination but just getting there and back again would be part of the adventure.  Especially since I have a long history of timidity and am not known to set off west without a husband to drive, navigate and protect us from … well, nothing I suppose, but you know, I am a bit timid.  So with chocolate coated licorice bullets by my side, and the girls giggling over the iPhone map thingy and a big bag of potato chips, we hurtled down the motorway.

We hadn’t even reached Ipswich (a small town half an hour to the west of Brisbane) before we were lost.  Good thing Sacha took over the map thingy decoding and applied all that talent she and Abby regularly exhibit when playing Wii and Nintendo DS.  Before long we were back on track and rolling through beautiful countryside.

Now anyone who knows west of Brisbane may be startled at the term beautiful - or maybe not :-) - as it is an area that has been cursed by drought for a long time.  Nevertheless, it is beautiful.  The many tumbling hills are ancient and rounded - I think they are part of old volcanoes, certainly there are outcrops that look like volcanic cores - and smoothly covered with stubbly faded gold.  Indeed, it is impossible to imagine that the cows grazing on this grass could possibly be gaining any nutrition.  But, despite the alarming lack of water or rain, it is still a farming community, and dotted across the hills are lovely old Queensland homesteads with their deep, cool, wrap-around verandahs, and ubiquitous collection of surrounding trees - jacarandas and flame trees which blazed with their spring colours, tall pines reaching for the endlessly blue skies, and thick shady figs and camphor laurels - and stooped outbuildings of rusted, galvanised iron.  All Australian farms have rusted, galvanised outbuildings.

Every now and again, we would pass a spot where once there must have been a farmhouse, but now, only the trees remained.  This parched, contrary landscape was illuminated every now and then by the fertile green of small dams - only big enough to water the cows and horses - but enough to rest dry eyes and give hope.  Of course, the landscape just west of Brisbane is nothing. Further out, there are no trees or grass - just red dirt and still there are people, their animals and crops, struggling to make a living.

We drove up and up and up - and then down into quiet, sunny valleys - and then up and up and up again.  Just in time for lunch, we crested the last hill and there Boonah lay before us.  It is a sweet, simple little town, heavily dotted with jacarandas.  They are such a wonderful tree - for 11 months of the year, they stand quietly in the corner, unnoticed and modest - then come October, bam!  The very air is purple with their blooms.  As we drove in, the girls noted playgrounds worthy of their attention, but first it was time to check down town Boonah.

Most Australian country towns are famous for their many pubs.  Not so Boonah - it has more butchers and greengrocers than pubs - a testament to the efforts of the surrounding farmers - and by golly were they good!  Even the signs were intriguing.  At one butcher, you could buy a hand of pickled pork.  I didn’t look.  The girls were most taken by the SugarLoaf Bakery where we had fresh cream buns, sprinkled with icing sugar, dotted with rich strawberry jam and as soft as those I remember from the 1970s when we would stop at the Rochedale bakery on the way home from ballet.  Oh Boonah’s cream buns were just as good.  And I dare say it was the only time during the day that the girls were silent.

There was a drapery - honestly, I doubt it has changed in 60 years.  Walking inside, it took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the cool, dim fullness of the store.  All three walls were completely covered from floor to ceiling with shelves and the front windows were full.  There were curtains, and bath towels, and patchwork fabrics, and ribbons, and buttons, and lace, and table cloths, and shoes for the whole family, and swimmers, and hats, and floral nighties, and pillows, and more shoes, and blouses, and dresses, and t-shirts, and for the farmer - there were more akubra style hats than I have ever seen, and the rural “uniform” - sensible long sleeved light weight shirts (stripes, checks or plain) with bone coloured heavy drill trousers and brown leather (never black) boots.  The counters were long and heavy, their glass fronts filled with merchandise and the sales assistants, dignified and knowledgeable.  It was good.  Very good.  I’m sure I saw Matthew standing to one side, a bag of seed under his arm, whilst trying to ask for a blue puffed sleeved dress :-)

Our favourite find of Boonah is The Story Tree.  A beautiful little store, selling lovely books and prints and cards and quite the range of lovely Lark products.  The young woman serving there was a delight and she introduced me to a new-for-me group - Little Birdy.  And we bought some beautiful books and prints and cards :-)

Homeward bound, we stopped at the playground where my big girls were greatly admired by a bevy of littles who chased them round and round the playground, and clung to their arms and legs in fascination.  Abby and Sacha declared they couldn’t understand this unsettling behaviour but the smiles on their faces told a different story.  We travelled home via Beaudesert.  It was a bit greener on this side of Boonah, and full of very pretty valleys which are unfortunately about to be drowned by the ill-advised construction of a dam.  Yep.  We have negligible rainfall.  Our existing dams in this very region are prone to drying out and are then really hard and slow to refill because the parched earth simply soaks up the rain, preventing good run off. So let’s spend billions of dollars building some more.  Dams - those big, big ponds that lose masses of water through evaporation - especially in the heat, which we have plenty of.  Ah dear.  From the protest signs, it would seem the people of these valleys aren’t sold on the dam, but every clearing was filled with MASSIVE construction equipment so I’m guessing our marvellous premier, Ms. Bligh, is pushing ahead regardless.

The girls played a riotous game all the way home with these peculiar little anime/barbie dolls they bought in an almost closed down toystore.  I love listening to imaginative play - and boy was it imaginative.  Those girls.  They should be writing scripts for soap operas - they would do a marvellous job.

So that was our day.  We arrived home late, tired and too full for dinner.  But keen to check a “proper” map to find our next adventure.  And we highly recommend, should you have an out of the ordinary day drop into your lap, leave behind all those things that could be done, and go find somewhere new and different.