The first pink is here. The first flush of pale pink light as the sun creeps over the eastern hills, moon still high, girls asleep. The first magnolias, petals already strewn across front lawns & driveways. The first cerise of the blossoms busting through the seams of their winter jackets. As the morning flush deepens & grazes the crest of our hill, Niamh's honey bird family keeps a watchful eye on a goshawk. The family comes every morning and evening, sometimes seventeen strong. Under the morning moon their throaty cries mix with currawongs & kookaburras, louder each morning until everyone can hear them proclaiming "she's here, the first pink, spring is here, wake up you who are winter wearied & see... it's here!"
The weeks have got away from me. William finished up work for a two week break & bam, we're all down for the count, the whole two weeks, the traditional cleansing colds that happen each autumn/winter, winter/spring. We had plans, I had plans of mountain air & snow, wah! Broth & orange juice, slow walks with the old girl & two weeks pass. But today, the last day of our family holiday, we emerged from the house, rode down to the river, soaked in the sun & saw the first pink. We've been watching it slowly unfurl, a quick dash to feed the chooks & oh, the neighbours plum tree is in blossom. A run to the compost heap & hey, didn't we just mow that grass. The swelling energy is brim to overflowing. Our garlic is on the move, along with the slugs who've demolished my womboks, the birds are bustling & the light is lingering. One bonus of our seasonal cleanse is the slowness at which we've moved, which means more time for trying out new recipes. Lentils and rice with caramelised onions (Mojadra), rocket salad, balsamic vinaigrette, sweet glazed nuts & dill yoghurt. Oh my goodness, it doesn't get much better. I think my peeps are tiring of it, but I could eat it day in & out. Niamh's been by my side while I cook. She's into rolling & whisking, cutting & tasting. It makes a lovely mess but leaves me in relative peace to prep at my own speed instead of throwing it all together as quick as I can & then flinging it on the table before the wheels fall off the toddler cart. Not a pretty sight. On the other hand the singing she has taken up while she goes about her business, well that's a different matter. In her high pitched, sweet pea voice "lavender's blue, blue, blue...lavender's green, green, green...humpty falls & all the king's men", on she goes jumbling all her nursery rhymes together.
On a knitting note, Ramona & I have parted company for the meantime. Turns out my worsted weight was masquerading as an Aran. I could have ended up with, well, who knows what. This nifty little WPI saved me. Old hat I hear all you talented knitty people out there declare. A lot of knitting knowledge I have yet to learn. Anyhow I'm not giving up on Ramona, she's merely on the back burner. Now I'm looking for a tidy little cardi pattern in a lighter weight worsted.
I've been hustling over the past few days getting things ready for the first of September because my big girl turns ten! Every year since she was born her birthing day has had the most glorious weather. Today she asked if it was possible to have such perfect weather every year of her life on her birth day. She has asked for a vanilla cake with blackberry jam & cream in the middle, white chocolate icing & a horse on the top. Pancakes and bacon for breakfast. A sleepover with friends. Garden supplies & perfect weather.The cake is chilling in the fridge & the forecast is promising. Hello spring!
