the Wise Robin

wintersweet

 

 

 

~ this week was ~

dark mornings and creeping, grey fog hugging our house on the hill

watching the sun filter through the last of the crepe myrtle leaves as i lay in bed with my loves

waking to find empty branches and winter waiting on the doorstep

saying goodbye to a family friend

casting off

& casting on

new wellies for little feet

watching our winter veg take off

 marvelling in the beauty of day long dewdrops

eating sweet, homegrown greens 

seeing the apple tree finally turn & knowing the vegies will now get a few more hours of sunshine

sadness at finding out our local steiner playgroup had folded. the playgroup where zahra and I connected with friends & a new family rhythm all those years ago when I was parenting by myself. the playgroup I was anticipating returning to soon with little niamh.

listening to the throaty call of the wattlebirds

finding beauty in the colour combination of golden pomegranate leaves and fuschia pink camellia petals

hearing more and more currawongs fly over & knowing snow will fly soon

running late afternoon errands in town & being reminded to slow down, breathe, by the yellow and grey of the last rays of sun washing over the golden, crowned plane trees and stormy sky 

creations of the fairy house kind

anticipating the scent and subtle yellow -magenta of those swollen wintersweet buds

missing autumn already and feeling glum about the winter stretch ahead

checking the calendar to mark the days until solstice & the return of the light

glimpsing the coming spring in waiting buds & peeping bulbs

waking to laundry & a dishevelled home, rolling over & reading instead

full & good

~

how about you? what was your week filled with?

 

 

 

secret garden

 

 

 

when i step through the gate of libby's garden, with one deep exhalation i leave my week and all it held and holds outside. like stepping into a yoga sequence, the breathing into, letting go, the deepening and grounding, uncoiling and allowing  happens in this secret garden. this week company and tea under the verandah were replaced with solitude. after feeding the glass-bead, eyed chooks i began on the artichokes, unearthing them from their shady bed and moving them across the way to a sunnier clime. i had no idea how brittle their leaves can be even when handled with care. carrying them by their feet does the trick. it's quiet this place. even when the cars whizz by on the busy street outside. this is a place of birdsong and whirring wings, the gentle sound of falling leaves and the scritch scratch of blackbirds darting beneath velvet flowered salvias. i climbed the old fruit picking ladder to prune the hakea. stepping up to cut, stepping down and out to look. i collected the prunings with their glaucous, heartshaped leaves and softly spiked flowers for a vase at home, but carried them to the compost in the end. no vase was going to save the now wilted spikes. the physical work feels good. hands in the cool, damp earth, peeled off layers of clothing strung over the wheelbarrow. two hours pass, time to pack up tools. a few photos and a quiet moment on the bench, then time to head out the gate. i gather my waiting week on the other side, leaving behind what is not needed and head home.

 

 

autumn's wardrobe

129/365

 

 

 

 the view from our bedroom window. pomegranates and camellias... autumn's wardrobe. they bring the eastern spinebills and wattlebirds. winter is almost upon us, i will miss you friend autumn.

 

 

 

new wellies, backyard lilly-pillies and a look of concentration

 

 

apprentice

128/365

 

 

 lately, whenever i've picked up my knitting, i've been joined by my eight year old apprentice. this particular afternoon was a trampoline day

 

 

...whilst inside my smaller apprentice was practicing her unpacking ...again

 

 

 

sweet girls

127/365

 

oh sweet girl, you have just started to turn toward the camera, lie still while I change your nappy, and run to me when I open my arms. the months of camera shyness, rolling and wriggling when nappies or clothes came your way, and flying in the opposite direction were all worth it to hear you in the op shop calling out my name from the next aisle. sweet, sweet girl.

 

 

right now fairy houses and the frozen soundtrack are where it's at. 

 

 

 

bitter::sweet

126/365

 

 

afternoons in the garden

 

 

my baby girl, there seem to be so many things that are closed to you right now. doors, gates, crockery drawers. but my sweet girl, this too shall pass, and the world will open up to you, little by little, and I will be right by your side helping you spread your wings.

 

 

seasons light

125/365

  

afternoon brilliance. we are having the most glorious autumn weather. the days are short but sweet with sunshine. almost a month till the solstice, then on an upward toward the light.

 

 

waiting for the postie. 

 

 

feathered sun

124/365

my girl and stella. 

 

 

sharing popcorn with my baby girl, who loves to share with the pooch and chooks. kaya was trained so well as a pup to not accept food unless she was given a nod of approval. you can see her resisting, politely turning her head away from the little outstretched hand. if i were to walk away it would be a whole other story

mornin'

123/365

 

 

niamh has been waking earlier and earlier. 5:30 starts our day. it is dark and cold out. one can't help but feel that bed and warmth and sleeping eyes are the better option. but 5:30 it is. while niamh seems quite chipper about the whole arrangement, zahra and I stumble around until light floods the house, I have hot black tea in my system and we all have bellies full of sweet, warm oatmeal. 

 

 

one twenty two

122/365

 

 

Good morning...pancakes, sunshine, babes in wondersuits, new hats

 

121/365

 

 

 first harvest from our winter vegie patch...it's garlic chickpea soup on the menu tonight

 

 

determined to do it yourself

 

120/365

 

 

 

119/365

 

 

 

 

 

pink milk + ash

 

 

so much of knitting is about choice. so much choice. sometimes just starting is the hardest. my brain gets analysis paralysis and i could have finished that cardigan already. see that pink milk cardigan in my basket? i started on that last spring, after much deliberation. i picked it up here and there over summer, never really knitting more than a few rows at a time. i just couldn't get into it. then last week with headcold in tow and the perfect downtime to press on, i discovered it was now too small for zahra. there was a brief moment of frustration from both parties, then some quiet jubulation inside as i realised i could abandon the kina cardigan for greener pastures. truth be told i couldn't get into it because i found it a boring knit and i'd been secretly eyeing cricket.  what to knit next? qeue a hat for niamh. easy, not much thinking required and a quick knit. i was going to add earflaps and an under chin tie to keep.that.hat.on.her.head. but my swatching was a little out, so no earflaps until next year, cause it will still fit then. it's nice to knit something that fits and you know will be in rotation for a while. moving on. a beau for my belle in ash and cork because i love deep yokes with stripes. a simple knit in worsted. what was i thinking... a boring knit and in five ply. more choice. buttons. we started with fabric but on second thoughts maybe i should pick yellow. or pink. i really like the bakelite green but i only have two. yellow? pink? yellow? pink? ask william. ask zahra. take photos to gain new perspective. argh. it's that analysis paralysis again. they are JUST buttons. what do you think? i went with the predictable pink. 

 

 

rambling goodness

 

 

i remember mother's day as a single parent. it was like the weekends...really noticeable that i was in this gig all by myself. my mum would always send something special and a card reminding me that i was doing a fantastic job. she still does. love you mum. as my little family has grown and changed over the years so too has mother's day.  the past few years have brought breakfasts in bed, homemade gifts, and restful days with my peeps. i've loved it all. but this year i needed and asked for a little something extra...a family portrait and something that isn't so frequent in my days right now...time alone.  so after the sleep in, till nine!, the breakfast in bed courtesy of zahra, the handmade gifts and cards, knitting in bed and late lunch in the sunshiny garden complete with decorations, i grabbed my gardening gloves, kissed my peeps goodbye and headed out the door. i had been granted my wish in the form of garden time. but not in my garden, in libby's garden. her garden is just like what i imagine the secret garden to be like, the one in  Frances Hodgson Burnett's novel. it's hidden behind a high wall and is filled with such rambling goodness. rustling trees, flowers and curious chooks. happy bees, garden sculpure, vegies and birdsong. it's a labour of love, a studio en plein air. stepping through that gate is like wandering through the wardrobe into narnia, time seems to stand still. it was here in this magical place soaked with autumn sunshine that i spent my mothering sunday afternoon. we nattered while libby planted and i dug, but mostly there was quiet. quiet i  had been aching for. the physical work clearing my mind. afterwards there was tea and time for a few photos before i closed that gate and headed for home and my peeps, feeling spacious and refreshed. it was a perfect day, thankyou my loves. 

happy mother's day to all the mama's out there. 

 

119/365

sun day

117/365

 

  

hanging mother's day decorations in the yard for our late lunch

 

 

 

just cast off a new beanie for niamh. now...all i have to do is keep it on her head. i like my babies to wear hats in cold weather, niamh has other ideas.

 

 

rain day

116/365

 

 

a perfect saturday...rain, knitting, snuggling, all of us together.

 

 

 

autumn thoughts

 

we've all been hit by early winter sniffles. fuzzy heads and running noses. plenty of soup & teas are keeping us going. the smell of roasting pumpkin fills the kitchen as the autumn afternoon sun streams in and night follows quickly behind. it feels like the days have shortened quickly, autumn slipping away and the solstice upon us so soon. we've been adding colourful leaves to our nature table, which we then find crumpled around the house. niamh is growing so quickly, her eyes seeing onto tabletops and her hands reaching further for things. the rosemary is the only flower in the garden feeding the bees on these chilly days. i think of them in my plans for the garden...more winter flowers. it shouldn't be too long before the wintersweet is out. zahra noticed the silvery silk of spiderling trails, wondering where they fly to, so tiny, casting out on their own. the sound of her cello mixes with my noises in the kitchen. if the sound of the cello had a colour it would be the colour of autumn, yellowy golden, the hues of liquid amber. the kettle is on again, another round of teas, chamomile for her and dandelion for me. 

 

 

this week

 

115/365

 

up the hill, past the water tank, into the bush

 

114/365

 

i've always loved the cello and now i get to listen to you play. i love it's sound in our home, the way you dove straight in, the way you ask to practice like it's a treat, your seriousness.

 

113/365

 

112/365

 

 

building for the bush fairies

 

 

a few of my favourite things

111/365

 

 

Unfortunately, your favourite room in the house is the bathroom. We wait for your attention to be elsewhere before opening the door.  We hear your quickening steps up the hallway, trying to catch the door open, just like an elevator. Sometimes we forget to close the door. 

 

 

daydreamer

111/365

 

 

Every morning you go out to feed the girls and look for eggs. After you'd slipped out that morning and hadn't returned for a while I went to look for you. There you were my daydreamer, singing under the lemon tree, in dressing gown and boots, with nary an egg in sight. Keep dreaming sweet girl.

 

snap

110/365

 

 

the weather snapped cold this past week. trees suddenly seem bare, the heat has been turned on and the house is littered with drying clothes. the river has dropped, islands of river stones laid bare. we ventured down to the pizza oven and found ourselves riverside late in the afternoon. the cold makes me feel alive. stinging lips, red nose, icy fingers. it clears my head and makes me ready for indoors again. hot drinks, slippers, quilts, soup, woollens. 

 

 

 

 

109/365

 

 

 

108/365

 

 

 

107/365

 

 

 

106/365