inner pickle

rocket launch

Remember this little salad patch?

 

I can't believe I've actually managed to grow some food.

 

Friends for lunch last Saturday, rocket and feta salad for the table. 

 

 

And this is what happens when Adam (thanks for the photos babe) tells you he's taking a photo of the baby. Snot. Taking a photo of me with salad hanging out of mouth. Super attractive. 

 

In other news, we had a visitor this week!

 

Real life Australian fauna, in my front yard. So excited. 

 

The echidna and I, we hung out. I asked if she could stay till Henry and Tilly came home. She said 'no,' and 'lady those shoes are clapped out.' 

'Yeah but they're two of the same shoe Mrs Tiggywinkle,' I replied. 'We're on the way.'

She got bored with my chit chat and trundled off towards the dam where the big black snake lives. 

I tried to encourage her to go the other direction but the geese were bothering her and I said, 'Well Tiggy, you're on your own, but feel free to drop in anytime.' And she said, 'I'm an echidna, not a hedgehog you doofus, and who has time to iron and starch these days anyway?' 

(I didn't tell her my washing was all wet and stinkarooney in the machine. She's still a new friend.)

xxx

the romantics

I don't go in for sentimentality. It actually annoys the crap out of me. I don't like clichés or empty gestures and it probably goes without saying that I really don't like the crazy commercial crapola that is Valentine's Day. 

Having said that, I love my man. Adore him wholeheartedly (you would too, he's a bit marvellous.)

We don't do flowers on Feb 14th, we sometimes do cards and we'll take any excuse for chocolate. How's this, though, for a gift of love?

We've ordered seeds and are planning quite a sizable patch, one that'll hopefully feed the family and all that, but in the meantime, it's getting on in February and it's time to plant lettuces in Australia. So while I'm waiting for the seeds, Adam worked through a rainy Sunday afternoon yesterday and put in a salad bar garden for me. 

 

He is ten types of terrific. 

 

So maybe I can stretch to just a little silliness....

(The kids love these! I found them at Aldi last week. Lamb and pasta salad for dinner tonight.)

Do you go in for Valentine's day? (Does anyone?!)

xxx

 

wildlife

Just in case you thought I'd moved to paradise and lost myself up my own green righteousness, I'm here to tell you, there's a snake in the grass!

No not the grass behind the baby, you think I'd be focussing the camera? I really like that wee moppet.

But after seeing an enormous black snake right near the house, and casually learning from a neighbour that it lives in the next door dam, I don't leave her unsupervised on the grass. Not when it's steaming hot outside and the lawn needs a mow. 

And THE SPIDERS.

Oh, the spiders. 

So you know I'm not so great with arachnids. I've talked about it before, my big fat irrational spider-bait-ness. 

The first thing I found here were the Huntsmen, a large hairy legged spider that's not dangerous but is (for me) alarming to find hanging out in my kitchen. They make them big round here. And many. Crappers. I didn't bin the one I killed today. I hope the corpse serves as a warning to its friends. No mercy to hairy legged spiders in this house.  

I've also been noticing big spider holes in the yard. Lots of them. I called a family friend who is a retired chemist and spider expert to ascertain whether they were Funnel-web holes and was relieved he confirmed they are mere Trapdoors, still dangerous but a bite does not actually require anti-venom. Excellent. Dreadful but not fatal. Good to know. 

 

So this is great for my resident entomologist.

I had a specific conversation with her about not messing around with spider holes and always (a) wearing shoes outside and (b) shaking them out before you put them on, only to hear her suggesting to a small visiting neighbour that they go look for spider holes. 

 

I'm shaking out my boots. 

Hope your week is travelling well and spider-free. 

Thinking of our friends in North Queensland tonight and hoping everyone's battened down and holding on tight. 

xxx

mouse in the house

Generally I don't mind rodents. 

Spiders are another thing altogether, but mice or even rats are OK. I don't want them in my breakfast cereal, I should add, and if they move in I'll move them out, but I've lived with them in degrees of share accommodation in the past, and they don't bother me. 

So when a school-mum-friend asked if I could mind their mice for a couple of weeks before Christmas I said 'of course'. No worries. Two weeks. Walk in the park.

They arrived squeaky clean. And ohmygoodness cute. 

Stuart and Junior. 

And they came with their own little house! Cute!

But oh the smell.

On day two (day two) I went to get them out of the laundry and hang them up outside and was knocked over by the smell of their confinement. Stinky critters. 

By day three I'd learnt to hold my breath and air out the laundry before trying to do any washing. 

By day four I'd found a higher spot for them outside as my neighbour's cat liked to sit and watch them all day.

Day five I was considering calling for backup. 

But day six. Oh, day six.

Went out. 

Opened laundry door. 

LID OF CAGE WAS OPEN. 

No blood, no sweet fluffy fur, nothing. 

I stood stock still, thinking, if they're out, maybe I can catch them as they make a break for the door. I assumed a goal-keeper pose, heart still sinking. 

And then.

A wee little white nose poked out of the mouse house. My heart leapt. Junior was still there! All was not lost! I quickly slammed down the lid of the cage. And with the kerfuffle out came Stuart too to see what was going on. 

I've never been so pleased to see two mice in my whole life. 

 

 

(Just to be sure.)

xxx

Hello, Spring

We're busy growing a few things round here (other than various small people)...

I had a substantial vegie garden in Brisbane that my dear freind Catriona helped me dig out and that I was terribly proud of. 

I planted a very hearty selection of vegies which thrived for about a month and I felt generations of farmer genes zinging in my bones as I peered and inspected and watered and fertilised. 

Then on one warm night some small hungry marsupial ate the lot. The whole damn garden. Hope he had a rotten tummyache. All those new sweet vegies. Wee bugger. 

I was so disheartened and spring turns into a burning hot summer very quickly in Queensland; I didn't start again and by New Year we were heading back to Sydney.

Let's see what hardcore wee furries we have around here, shall we? 

In other news, I've pretty much fallen off the wagon with my Kids Clothes Week Challenge. I've finished two things and will save up a full report for the end of the weekend. I'm hoping to make up some time tomorrow, Friday, if Tilly naps, and then might sneak in a bit of sewing over the weekend!

This skirt, below, I was very happy with though! More later...

 xxx

one for the road

The Culprit. (More on this later...)

Hi!

We've been in Armidale for three days and tomorrow we drive down to the coast for a few days with friends, can't wait.

Meanwhile, I thought I'd share a wee but of our time at Ad's family home with you...

 

Jim's vegie garden, it's such an awesome set up. He grows swathes of leafy greens and raspberries and all sorts of fabulous edible things.

Jim and Jen are mad keen on birds. There are so many different kinds of finch in this garden, just gorgeous. They grow things purely to attract different birds. I wish I'd got a photo of the clothesline full of galahs but I was too busy staring with the kids to get my camera.

Is this the best cubby house you've ever seen? On the inside of the door it says "Now you are trapped" written by Rachel about a hundred years ago. Or so.

Jim (Papa) and Henry planted some tomatoes...

They banged in the stakes...

 

They wore matching shoes...

Then they watered them, even though it looked a bit like rain.

 

Now. Regarding The Culprit.

So after the planting and the staking and the watering, Jim and Jen took the kids off for a park adventure followed by a spot of vegetable shopping.

It was all progressing predictably and successfully up until they arrived home and Henry proudly revealed the packet of lifesavers he’d stolen from the shop.

Yes. Stolen.

Jim and Jen, utterly and understandably horrified, deferred the criminal immediately to his parents. Who themselves were totally unprepared to deal with a light fingered five year old.

Adam, being quite sensible, calmly explained to Henry that he absolutely could not take things from a shop without paying and proposed they go immediately and apologize to the shop owner and pay for the pilfered goods.

I stayed home with Jen and Jim who poured a round of red wine and debated the inherited criminal traits from Jen’s convict relatives, transported for life to Tasmania for stealing lead off a church roof.

Meanwhile, Adam and Henry were standing in front of the shopkeeper and Adam prompted Henry to explain his transgression and apologize.

Henry got through the apology and the shopkeeper, looking confused, explained he didn't sell lifesavers. Adam looked at Henry who said, ‘It was the shop next door.’

Off they went, next door, and Henry apologized and Adam asked if he can pay only to discover Henry had nicked those old, out of date charity lollies off the counter.

On the box it said 'Lifesavers, 50c donation please'.

Adam put in a dollar.

And came home and passed over the wine for a scotch.

We're fleeing the area tomorrow and I'll hopefully report to you next Sunday from home, not from outside a Juvenile Detention Centre. 

(A week is a long time though. Hold your breath for me, OK?!)

xxx