A day

Today was an exceptionally average day. I don't mean average in the way that it's often used to mean "not great" (quite the opposite in fact) but in the sense that today was a day like so many of our days here on the farm. When I think of today, I feel peaceful and full of joy.

Lots of people - friends, family, and strangers alike - often comment on how hard our life seems. It's true that we do forego many of the creature comforts most people in the west take for granted, like internal plumbing, for example. But these 'sacrifices', for us, generally have a flip side, like experiencing the surprising and immense joy of things like bathing and doing the dishes outside. It's also true that many of the things we do take for granted, like carrying 20kg barrels of water and bags of feed over several hundred metres, several times a day, may seem a lot like hard work, but the work keeps us strong, and means we don't have to go to a gym to get our daily exercise.

So what does an exceptionally average day on Autumn Farm look like?

Pearl, Oski and I rose at around 6.30 (a little later than usual) and set to work tending to the animals - letting the chickens out, letting the dogs off, making sure everyone has food and water. It was an overcast morning, but we could see the sun trying to bust through the clouds. We cheered it on, for the chickens' sake - they've had enough dampness these last few days.

When we returned to the homestead, Olive had woken up and was reading in bed in the loft. We made tea and hot water with lemon, and the kids had spelt pikelets with the last of the preserved blackberries from last summer for their breakfast. We packed lunchboxes (leftover veggie dumplings, more pikelets and fruit) and Pearl headed off for her day's work cooking at a cafe in town.

The kids played wild games with the dogs as I did the dishes, and then Olive got the bus to school.

With the 'morning rush' over and done with, Oski and I set to work on the important business of sewing  and harvesting and preparing food, which took up the rest of the day.

I made 3 skirts for the Mumbulla spring fair, and a bolero for my friend Genna (she's making me a hat as a trade!), sitting at the big table outside where we do pretty much everything, while Oski played around me, making 'jam' from some mulberries he'd picked. 

My dad came over to chop up some firewood for us, and we chatted, he played with Oski, and helped me to move the chicken houses and top up food and water before heading off.

Around lunch time, Oski and I harvested 2 massive bowls of broad beans. We sat together at the table and shelled them, then blended half of them with garlic, olive oil, lemon juice, grated parmesan and mint to make a broad bean pesto, one of our favourite springtime treats, which will provide snacks and lunches for the next few days. The other half we reserved for our dinner. We then dined on a pretty random but delicious luncheon of broad bean pesto, leftover chicken, kimchi straight from the jar, fruit, nuts and the last of the pikelets.

Our appetites sated, we once again did the rounds of the chickens, played with the dogs, admired the new ducklings in the orchard, and tended to the 5 day old chicks in the brooder house.

A few days ago Pearl's dad had caught us a massive salmon, which was to be our dinner. Inspired by one of our favourite cookbooks, Moro East, we stuffed it with fennel, lemon and parsley, wrapped it in foil, and set it on the barbecue to cook. As the most delicious smells started wafting from the cooking fish, we headed into the orchard to take out the compost, admire the babies again, and collect many many eggs.

The afternoon is maybe my favourite time of the day for wandering and looking, and it was especially beautiful today given the weird mix of sunshine, big black clouds and enormous, intermittent raindrops.

And then Pearl and Olive came home, and much catching-up and storytelling, pesto-tasting, kissing and cuddling ensued. Final dinner preparations (cous cous with broad beans and yoghurt dressing and a simple cabbage coleslaw) were made as children played and water was delivered to the chickens.

Dinner was, as always, chaotic and rowdy and delicious. We're all pretty exhausted by this time of the day, but it's also a joyful catch-up time, especially on days like today where we've each been doing our own things. Meal times are possibly the times we feel most rich, because we feast so well on a bounty of home-made and home-grown goodness that is almost ridiculous, looking out over our beautiful valley, listening to the birds and, tonight, watching the kangaroos. It's hard not to feel blessed when your meal-times look like that and home made chicken liver pâté and fresh broad bean pesto are your go-to staples.

After dinner was Oski's 'pretend birthday', complete with a sand cake and pass the parcel presents.

The light was starting to fade as we got Oski ready for bed, and he and I retired to the loft for stories and cuddles and sleep, while Pearl and Olive locked up all the chickens and delivered the dogs to their night-time chook-guarding posts.

In all, I'd say that from wake-up time to sleep time, we spent a total of about 15 minutes inside the house. It was a lovely, average day, and I wouldn't swap the hard work for all the creature comforts in the world.

How was your day?

Candelo skirts for sale!

On sunday Gab and I spent a lovely, sunny day at the Candelo Markets. I was selling skirts, doily and teatowel bunting and crocheted stubby holders, and Gab was selling her beautiful recycled silver jewellery and the most adorable, colourful recycled leather wallets of all time. The skirt she's wearing in this picture (it has chickens on it!) was a trade for a spunky broad-bean-green leather wallet for Pearl.

For those of you who can't make it to Candelo for the markets, I thought I'd post some skirts on here so you can have a virtual market experience. Also, I'm selling my market skirts for a mere 50 bucks, so they're something of a bargain!

So have a stroll around our stall! If you see something that tickles your fancy, send me an email, or leave a comment, and I'll post it to you! Remember that the wrap 'n go skirts are made from a vintage 70s skirt pattern, and are quite flexible in their sizing, so I've just given a general ball-park size. They can be smaller or bigger, depending how much you've eaten for lunch...

Have fun!

L-R: detail of blue-wren skirt pocket; vintage rose print barkcloth skirt with blue polka-dot waist band and pockets (size 14); stretchy pin-stripe skirt with vintage embroidery pocket and red polka-dot waist band (size 12)

Brown cornflower-print teatowel and polka-dot wrap 'n go (size 14-16); orange and yellow floral wrap 'n go with blue wren and rick-rack pocket (size 12-14); blue barkcloth gorgeousness...

vintage floral print drill with contrast pockets (size 14); more of the brown cornflower print (it is BEAUTIFUL...)

crocheted stubby holders, $12 each

embroidered black swan (with babies!) pocket on blue drill (size 14-16)

Vintage pink floral print A-line with embroidered pockets (size 10)

vintage blue and red floral print A-line with vintage kids' print pockets (it's a little hiking person and green trees on a red and white polka-dot background) (size 14); vintage pink floral print bolero (size 14) and doily bunting, $15.

Updates from the teatowel-a-thon

As I think I mentioned before, the teatowel-a-thon is chugging along quite nicely, and we're almost ready to purchase our sausage-making equipment. Yee har! Thanks so much everyone for your orders. It's been really fun to work with you on creating some new things. 

Of course, there have been some old favourites, like this bolero I made for Amy, in Melbourne. Tried and true, the teatowel bolero is always fun, because each teatowel/bias binding combo means that they're all new, and they all have their own character. Yay for handmade character-filled clothes, I say.

I have also had orders for new things, like pinnies and shift dresses, which I've never made before, so enjoyed the challenge of adventuring from my sewing comfort zone.

Quite early on in the sale I got a request for a blanket with Australiana patches. What a cool idea! Strangely, the thought had never crossed my mind before, so was grateful to Jillian for raising the suggestion. Luckily for Jillian and I, my mum had recently been to a garage sale and picked up some brand new, still in their packets 100% wool blankets. They're bloody beautiful, and this green plaid was, I thought, perfect for a spot of Australiana embellishment. I picked out a few choice patches - animals, birds, flowers, and an amazing, embroidered black swan - and got to work.

I don't often sew things this big. I think the last big thing I sewed was a bedspread I made for Pearl a few years ago. So I'd forgotten how tricky it is to get the big thing - in this case a thick, snuggly wool blanket - around the sewing machine. I suppose there are sewing machines especially made for sewing big stuff?? I don't believe mine is one of these, and I find the sewing of big things slightly challenging. But thankfully, not impossible. 

After wrestling with the blanket and the patches for several hours, I spread it out in the sun and admired my handiwork. I was pleased. It reminds me of a scout blanket (in a good way!!). The snuggly green wool and the bright Australiana patches work perfectly together, and I can't wait to see what it looks like on a bed or couch. It'll definitely keep you warm Jillian!

I hope you enjoy your blanket and bolero girls! I certainly enjoyed making them for you.

RedPeg rocks my world

As you may well know, I'm rather partial to a spot of bartering. Getting goods and services from someone in exchange for goods and services you yourself have made just feels kinda good. It's hard for people to be greedy, or unfair, when it comes to bartering. Getting rid of the whole money hoo-ha also means that you can take charge of your time more easily: The less money you need, the more opportunity you have for doing things that are fulfilling and that make you happy. Obviously, there are things in the world you just need money for. I'm not saying that I'm heading for some kind of cash-less living situation (as attractive as that sounds). But trading a bunch of kale or 3 for a fresh rabbit or loaf of bloody gorgeous home-made German rye sourdough is happy-making, and it means that you get the things you need/want, but can't make yourself, with your own 2 hands. This increases self-reliance, and cuts out that (often unpleasant) middle-person who, in a normal money economy, you just sell your time to, so you can get money to buy the things you need/want. Who needs that guy?? Bartering also strengthens community (and I reckon this is my favourite bit) - getting to know the person you're getting your gear from helps you to appreciate their craft and the work that goes into creating whatever it is you're getting from them. You have a conversation with them, you thank them and pay them a compliment, you make friends with them.

Happily for us, we've met quite a few people of late who are more than happy to trade their knowledge, expertise and wares for our knowledge, expertise and wares. Sweet!

Of exceptional note are our new friends Gab and Mick, who are totes up for bartering all kinds of stuff, most notably, Gab's bloody gorgeous RedPeg Eco Studio jewellery. 

Being as I am a lover of the bauble, yet chronically dismayed by the ethically dubious nature of most jewellery, it was pretty delightful to discover that Gab is, amongst other things, a most talented creator of ethically and environmentally sound jewellery. Moreover, she has been happy to trade her wares for a few P&E bits, and it looks like this relationship could continue into the future. ACE BALLS!

Yes folks: these earrings say "grow more food". Outrageously cool.

I find Gab's jewellery pretty much irresistable. For example: I got my first pair of RedPeg earrings a couple of months ago. I HAVE NOT WORN ANY OTHER EARRINGS SINCE. Yes folks, she's that good. 

For swaps, I made her a little wool bolero, with red rick-rack trim (the rick rack is kind of hiding in the photo on account of all the red in Gab's gorgeous and exciting studio),

and a brown spotty wrap n go with Australian flora pockets. 

I feel like I totally got the good end of the stick with this situation. But then again, that's the other awesome thing about  bartering: often-times both people think they've gotten the best deal.

"Is that a Leona Edmiston?"

Recently, I made my little sister Meggy a frock-&-bolero set for a wedding, which she went to last weekend. As you can see, she looked freakin' gorgeous. The wedding was in the mountains, and celebrated the love between her 2 good friends, Hev and Nibs. Yay love! Yay handmade-and-nature-inspired weddings!

Yay love!

As you may know, if you know me or you've been reading this blog for a while, I'm pretty into weddings. I love the party, I love the fact that they get people feeling all out and proud about love, and I love the opportunity to get hands-on with any and all varieties of wedding-related craft activities including (but not limited to) wedding dresses, bridesmaids dresses, and wedding bunting.

Even though I've never actually met Hev and Nibs, I was more than happy to make a frock for Meg (in exchange, she's going to lend us her superb tree-plating skills this Easter holidays) for their wedding, and help out with the little statues that adorned their wedding cake. And what a cake it was! 

Well, unfortunately I didn't actually taste the cake, but it sure looks good, right?? And I reckon it looks even better when you hear that it was made in the mountains, using organic and fair trade chocolate. Niiice...

Now. The dress. The green fabric came from a shop in Cabramatta (an excellent location if you're in the market for new fabric for wedding and/or other fancy kinds of frocks ('twas where we purchased materials for Pearl's and my wedding frocks, and Meg's year 12 formal frock). The bolero fabric - which is nothing short of STUNNING - came out of the nurse's quarters at Temorah hospital, where Meg's super-spunky and uber-lovely boyfriend, Jerry, works as a nurse. It's vintage, giant yellow-and-pink-rose-print barkcloth. Yum. Meg also used it to cover the giant button on the front of her dress, so it's all nice and matchy-match.

Jerry the nurse-cum-fabric-supplier on the left, Meg and matchy curtain adornments on the right

In all, the outfit was a success! Meg looked - and more importantly felt - "pretty much amazing" in the outfit. Someone even asked her if it was a Leona Edmiston! I'm taking this as a compliment, though I don't go in for designer threads much myself. But I suppose as far as designer threads go, Leona does design some pretty wares. Though I doubt she'd do a trade for some help with planting out a shelter belt, and I can guaran-damn-tee her stuff isn't made at an outside table, under beautiful late-summer blue skies, on a machine powered wholly by the sun.

Dear Pump up the Dam supporters...

Thank you all for your patience, and thank you for supporting sun-powered hand-made!

Even though our solar system was actually installed some weeks ago now, we haven't really been able to use it yet on account of an unfortunate incident involving a food processor and an inverter. The problem has been remedied now, however, and I have been in a happy sewing frenzy. In fact, the first lot of Pump up the Dam goodies were posted today, including, but not limited to...

a vintage floral bolero for Meg

A not-too-flared-out rosey-print for Beth

Some classic 70s greens and a couple of lorikeets for Siggy

A 70s bonsai print bark-cloth bolero for Alexis (who is also the recipient of other associated package 4 goodies which refused to be photographed in any constructive kind of way)

A quite-beautiful big flowery teatowel pocket on some navy striped mattress-ticking for Meg

A package number 4, including doily bunting, preserved lemons and gorgeously-gorgeous yellow-y sunny print bolero and skirt (with a deer-print pocket!) for Katherine

And a beautiful pink-and-purple rosey print skirt for Siggy as well.

I had fun, and hope you have fun wearing your goodies. It was nice to get reacquainted with my fabric and teatowel collections. It was nice to sit outside in the evening air, chatting with Pearlie and taking in the view as I pottered along. I felt so happy knowing that I could use my own hands to make these goodies to sell to you kind folks, so that we can buy the little pieces of infrastructure we need to make this tiny-farming adventure of ours a little easier. I felt grateful to all of you for taking a moment to think a little about positive ways to spend your money, so that your hard-earned bucks can go towards a little positive change in the world, and not just line the pockets of a greedy chain-store owner who makes clothes that rip off the makers, consumers and our poor old beleaguered planet.

Thank you all. I feel humbled and honoured to be able to sew like this, just a little, sometimes, when the need and desire arises. I do hope you enjoy wearing your gear.

To those of you still waiting, there is more coming, soon. I promise. We've almost reached our goal, so tell your friends that if they're quick I can still make a couple more packages for this sale of ours. Or, if you're happy with what you get, you can buy one for a friend as a Christmas-time gift. Trust me - it'll be a gift that keeps on giving, and I promise to think of each and every one of you and your lovely skirts every time I don't have to haul water by hand.

You rock.

x annie

PS. I have to say a special in-particular thank you to Katherine for giving me the go-ahead to use yellow. It's not a very commonly-requested colour, but it's one that I absolutely adore. The combination of not-commonly-requested and I-totally-love-it-but-am-kind-of-irrationally-scared-to-wear-it-myself-even-though-I-freaking-love-it means that I have a LOT of very beautiful yellow-toned fabrics that don't get a lot of play. I have to say, Katherine, that I absolutely and positively sewed your package vicariously for myself, and I loved every minute of it. I hope you love it all too. Especially the deer...

rainin' and rainin'

I've probably mentioned this fact before - I love sewing for people I love! - but I had to mention it again given the gorgeous set of tops I just had the pleasure of whipping up for one of my loveliest friends, Niki. Is she not a beautiful P&E model?

Her request for 3 tops and a bolero came one day when I was lamenting not having enough cash to buy the new Sal Kimber album. How gracious of Niki to buy tops from me in order that I could purchase some music! The creative cycle is truly a beautiful thing...

The tops were to be comfy, but smart, and vaguely related to the colours dusty pink, blue and green. This was pretty fun, as I love colour-themed requests, especially since organising my teatowels and fabric remnants. I am an absolute sucker for anything arranged by colour, especially op-shops. The colour-coded op-shop seems to be a bit of a regional thing, in my experience, the most spectacular ones I've seen being in Cooma and Wagga Wagga. A few weeks back, I had a pretty awesome few rainy days of sick leave, after injuring my shoulder, so couldn't go on with any 'big' jobs (ie. house-building related). I just had to snuggle down and colour-code my fabric. How dreadful, I know.

So the tops were easy.

The bolero, on the other hand, was to go with a frock she already owned. Niki had sent me the belt, as a reference, but I was all in a tizz about the colouring.

The dress, as you can see, is bloody spectacular, so I was really feeling the pressure to get it right. What to do when in such a tizz? Defer to your muse, I say. Pearlie (my muse) is extraordinary at picking out combos. Combos of colours, combos of accessories, combos of food. Whatever - she rocks them all. Including Niki's bolero's dusty salmon wool/bright turquoise bias binding combo, which I believe to be marvellous.

Niki was pretty chuffed too, which is always a bonus.

While we were in Sydney hand-delivering Niki's tops (a special service reserved for only my most special clients, sorry) Bega was a recipient of some pretty phenomenal rain, which managed to wreak havoc all over our pretty shire. Being massive proponents of the 1st permaculture principle of Observe and Interact, we were super-keen to see how our land was handling the big wet. Pearl, Oski and I (Olive was at school) trotted up at the first opportunity, and were pretty excited by what we saw.

Firstly, the dam was absolutely chockers. Awesome. BUT it was overflowing, and showing off a pretty dreadful spillway which had some significant potential for erosion. Spillways, as we learned in Harvesting Water the Permaculture Way (yep: we get into some seriously sexy night-time viewing down here) should follow the contour of the land for quite some way, so that any overflowing water is captured and carried along the land slowly and gently, so as not to create any erosion and to ensure the land receives the maximum possible benefit from the rain. Our dam, in contrast seems to

a. spill right over the dam wall, taking our beehive with it (the only time I've been happy that the bloody bee lure didn't work) and then

b. create a kind of mini-river over the side, evacuating all our azolla and making a lovely azolla-bog in the gully below the dam wall.

Not the best outcome, at all, but interesting to see. We're not that upset about the dam's performance, given that, come spring, we'll be draining it and excavating it to remove silt, increase our water-storage capacity and create a gorgeous swimming hole. And at least we know it doesn't leak.

Speaking of excavations, they were pretty much supposed to be done by now, given that our workshop is in LESS THAN FIVE WEEKS but have been delayed on account of aforementioned rain. Slightly stressful, though Pearl has been wonderful with her "Babe, it's the weather. There's nothing we can do about it so don't worry" and things do seem to be clearing. All going well, Moonie the bobcat/bulldozer/front-end loader driver and self-declared "Excavation Advisor" will be up at our place bright and early on Tuesday to gouge out great quantities of hillside. The feeling is... well... kind of huge.

PS. As I write this, I am enjoying, quite immensely, the sound of the new Decemberists album, which I received in the mail today. It's a double live cd and, well, let's just say Pearl and I are dancing/panting/exclaiming "Yeah Colin!" as we go about our evening chores. Fun times.

PPS. Post-major rain event, the far South Coast this early Autumn is a truly spectacular place to be and all going well we should have some beautiful building weather for our April straw bale workshop. The prospect of toiling away on our hillside, with so many loved ones, on bright, crisp Autumn days excites us big time.

B is for Beth looking Beautiful in her Best-lady frock

Apparently the wedding was amazing. presumably this is not least of all because Beth looked so gorgeous and radiant in her glorious frock! Check out the purple nail polish!!!!

A little experiment

My very very least favourite thing about this little clothes-making biz of mine is, hands down, pricing my stuff. Has always been , probably always will be. I suspect that this results from the fact that I am constitutionally deficient in the skills needed to deal with the rigours of this shindig we call capitalism that is, unfortunately, running the show right now. I just feel icky about asking for money for something that, 9 times out of 10, I've had an absolute ball creating. Mind you, the pocket money always comes in handy, especially in the midst of the shit-fight we're engaged in at the moment, trying to fund our little house build. And of course I do so love the feeling I get when I realise that, by paying for my clothes, people are actually saying "Hey! I dig what you're doing over here!".

But still, I've been thinking of ways I could start to get around or at least play with the boundaries prescribed by the "I do something for you and you pay me what I tell you" rules of the open market. This experiment was, in a little way, inspired by a cafe I visited in Salt Lake City (of all places) that had no prices, instead requesting that customers make a donation, according to their capacity and their feelings about the meal, or, if they weren't able to pay, to contribute in some other way, such as doing the dishes or taking out the rubbish. I thought this was a pretty ace idea, made somewhat acer by the fact that the cafe had been in operation for 12 freakin' years or something!

Sooooooo...

I few weeks ago I got an email from Denise, in Denmark, WA, who was looking to extend her P&E collection. Denise, I know from our previous interactions, is a pretty cool lady, who has always seemed to be very respectful and appreciative of what I do. These qualities (teamed with the fact that she calls her cat her "fur husband", which appealed to the part of me that thought it was a good idea to get my cat, Bunn's name tattooed in a big red heart on my leg) led me to believe that Denise was a perfect candidate to invite on my little pricing experiment. So, when the question I dread came up - "How much do I owe you?" - I replied by suggesting that Denise set the price according to what she thought the clothes were worth, and what she could afford. Initially, Denise was apprehensive and uncomfortable about the suggestion, but (and this is the bit I love) she recognised that her discomfort was something worth interrogating and trying to work through, so we agreed that she would set the price as long as I promised to let her know if it wasn't enough. I was stoked with this arrangement, and set to work sewing her skirts and boleros, astoundingly happy and safe-feeling in the knowledge that, even if we weren't putting an end to capitalism, we were at least playing with it a little bit.

I asked Denise what it was she thought made her feel uncomfortable. She replied: "I think the uncomfortable feeling comes because I'm still learning how to receive graciously! Well, partly, anyway. Because essentially, letting the purchaser decide on a price to pay, is giving them a gift, putting the power in their hands." I love this insight, not least of all because it kind of mirrors my own feelings about the whole affair: Having someone value my work enough to part with their hard-earned cashola is a gift and a compliment, all in one - who doesn't like receiving one of those?

In all, I have been thrilled by the engagement, mutual trust and gift-giving that this experiment has generated, if for no other reason that it's so out of the ordinary in our daily, money-exchanging lives.

Now, onto the clothes.

Yes, you have seen this tablecloth before. How great that there are now 2 "Greetings West Australia" clothing items out there in the world? I especially like that the back of this is reminiscent of the emblems on the back of bikie jackets. But with a twist.

This purple floral skirt is a remake of a vintage dress Denise sent for me to work with. The fabric is absolutely divine - so soft! The dress was a gorgeous, home-made number with a little inset pocket at the side, and not a skerrick of overlocking to be found, which meant that all the inside seams are starting to fray a little, from millions of washes. My initial inclination was to actually re-do the skirt, including all the seams, so that they could be finished 'properly'. But then I thought about the actual provenance of the skirt (nee dress) and decided to leave them as a little historical reference point.

Denise actually requested an embellishment on this one, in the form of a patch or a pocket, but once I started on this skirt I was so in love with it that I wanted to stay as true to the original as I could. Denise, if you still want a pocket/patch, let me know and I can put one on, but I think it's beautiful as it is.

Yay for kitty-cat skirts! This wrap n go makes its pockets from a special tea-towel, which Denise sent along with the skirt, featuring the spitting image of her beloved Mr Topper. Of course, he needed to be on a pocket. Denise says the cats on the flowers reminds her of "seeing my furboy napping in the grass outside my window". Nothing much better than frolicking cats, except perhaps frolicking kittens...

And another bolero. Not much to say about this little baby other than that the fabric (formerly a tablecloth) is pretty unique, and Pearlie has requested a bolero for herself made out of the other half of said tablecloth, which just happens to be red. Oh, and Denise, I think it's gonna look great on you! Thank you so much for being my experiment-buddy! x

Thanks to the stellar efforts of my mum, brother and Jen, we are now back on line. I think feelings of relief are abounding, given that poor little Pearlie has been technology-free now for a couple of months. Not a bad thing in itself, but when you're home alone with kiddies, in a new town with only a couple of very very new friends, the need for a little adult communication becomes, well, kind of important for one's sanity.

We've also both really missed doing the blog, which is interesting given that we are both total luddites. It's been interesting to reflect on what it actually is about the writing process that we have missed. For me, it's the documentation, the 'making real' of this journey which, especially now in its tentative planning stage, can seem unreal. My drive for progress and results makes documentation satisfying. But enough of that...

What have we been up to? So much! The 2 most exciting things that spring to mind are that we got our DA approved

and we found a ginormous, beautiful and bountiful plum tree across the road from our land, understoried with native raspberries which are, if you've never had the pleasure of tasting one, exquisite.

Spectacular!

So as a result of these 2 most notable events we now have an exciting-looking land-planning wall

and were able to enjoy this outrageously beautiful christmas lunch,

which we feasted on at the most amazingly spectacular place on the far south coast, Nelson Lagoon, aka our local swimming spot.

What a day! In addition to the plums (which are the most delectable combination of sweet juicy flesh with a slightly tart skin) was an olive loaf, baked by my love, featuring the olives I picked and pickled last year, an olive tapenade from Towamba Station Olives (local - yeah!) and goat's cheese from the SCPA markets. We are seriously busting our of our skins with excitement to be able to have a christmas day like that, let me tell you.

In addition to the aforementioned beauty, deliciousness and excitement, we've also been drying figs from our backyard tree, which is producing way more figs than we can possibly eat.

To dry them, you just quarter them and put them on a tray in the oven on the lowest heat possible. Prop the door open with a wooden spoon to let the moisture escape and keep checking on them, though they do take a while - ours were in overnight, around 8 hours.

We also made onion jam for our friends for christmas,

plaited mermaid necklaces and hair braids,

made a table runner for my mum's birthday featuring antique doilies, tablecloths and Olive's drawings of our Began adventures,

a spangly bolero for Kirstin in Thirroul,

and a skirt and top from Solomon Island souvenir sarongs for Meg in Nana Glen.

And then, at the end of the day we ate fire-roasted Buckajo corn while wading in the dam (check out that azolla crop!) and catching up with friends from afar.

Lots of other things too, but they deserve their own posts so stay tuned...