In praise of window-blankets

One of the things about a passive solar house, is that you need to make sure that the solar energy (heat) that you collect through your north-facing windows during the day, doesn't escape when the outside temperature drops in the evening. If you have money, you can get double, or even triple-glazed windows. If you're doing things on the cheapity-cheap, however, and found-on-the-side-of-the-road-2nd-hand-windows are more in your budget range, then you need to go to a plan B. Heavy curtains with pelmets are usually prescribed, but lining curtains can be expensive. We also wanted a solution that meant that the maximum amount of glass was open for heat-transfer during the day - we didn't want bunches of curtain at the sides of our windows, blocking out bits of heat. And then Pearl reported "something she'd seen somewhere" that was like a big curtain quilt, which was rolled up and hooked in the morning. Effectively, you end up with a rolled 'swag' kind of thing at the top of the window during the day, and your windows (and your toasty, solar-warmed rooms) are protected by nice big thick window quilts and blankets at night. Snug!

Patchwork-quilt 'swag' at the top of our french doors - lets through the maximum amount of light/heat during the day, keeps the cold out and heat in during the night

So far, we're thrilled with the results! The window-blankets were made using whatever we had to hand - old blankets, a patchwork quilt that was the perfect size for our french doors, and some beautiful beautiful doilies and appliques sent to us in a spectacular package from our friend Nicole.

And they're doing a fab-o job of keeping in the warmth, too.

We toyed with the idea of getting a small wood heater, earlier in the year. But when we did the measurements, we realised that we'd lose almost 2 square metres of floor space. Now, I'm sure there will be nights and rainy days this winter when we'll be longing for a bit of extra warmth. But I'm also sure that during the 10 months of the year when we don't need a fire, we'd be longing for the space inside our little house. So we made the call and decided to save the money, and the floor space, and just get some more jumpers and blankets to see us through the winter. She'll be right mate! But what it means is that our window-blankets and that solar energy we collect on our earth floor all through the day, are going to be super-precious as the days and nights get cooler. 

The kids' window

Many locals are still thinking we're a bit mad, living without any heating (other than the sun) through a Bega  winter, but we have faith in the sun, and we have faith in our bales and we now have faith in our window-blankets and extra jumpers and long underwear. Let's see how we go, shall we?

Lined double-blanket. It's also a nice way to show off bloody beautiful blankets like this one

let the pumpkin-eating begin!

Have you ever read Living the Good Life by Linda Cockburn? If you have, you'll know why I find our pumpkin harvest so funny. If you haven't, you should. It's inspiring and funny and real and grounded, and it helps put our consumer-y lives into some kind of global context by offering a realistic, Australian suburban alternative. In short, it's awesome. And they eat a lot of pumpkins.

The reason for their extreme pumpkin consumption is that pumpkins are pretty bloody easy to grow a ton of. While growing and preserving enough tomatoes for year-round consumption is something that many people, including ourselves, aspire to, when I read a blog like Fox's Lane, which I do quite enjoy, and read about what's actually involved in growing and preserving this amount of tomatoes, I realise that, realistically, we're a ways off this.

Pumpkins, on the other hand, are do-able, and I think with this year's harvest almost done and dusted, we'll have more than enough pumpkins for a pumpkin a week for a year. Sure, if we wanted to be really self-sufficient, we could grow and eat more than a pumpkin a week, but who really wants to do that?

part of the great pumpkin harvest of '13

We're viewing this harvest of pumpkins more as a trusty staple to supplement our growing and eating more seasonal delicacies.

Another upside of pumpkins (in addition to the fact that they basically grow themselves and are pretty pest-resistant) is that you don't really have to process them to make them store for a REALLY long time. If you leave them on the vine 'til the vine dies back, then leave their stalks (and some vine, for good measure - better to be safe than sorry) on and let the whole thing dry out really well, you should be able to store your pumpkins in a safe-from-rodents, dry place for a year. Yay!

So we now have pumpkins 'hardening off' all over the place. And we're still finding them, hiding in the kikuyu. These will soon be stored in our loft, on shelves (if we can find some space!) on windowsills and probably on the floor under the table. Little ones will be used as components in still lives, and hold down our stack of cloth serviettes that sits, at the ready, on our table outside.

And a few nights ago we had our first (of many) pumpkin meals. It's something my mum used to make - classic comfort food, and, as a bonus, it's ridiculously cheap and easy and quick. It's basically a pumpkin risotto, but made with risoni pasta instead. 

Here's how:

Dice your pumpkin - We used half a medium-sized one for the 4 of us.

Chuck the diced pumpkin into a pot or pressure cooker (these guys are awesome!!!) with 500g risoni pasta and cover the lot with chicken stock. Bring to the boil, then simmer til the stock is absorbed and the pasta is cooked. Stir through some chopped sage leaves and some soft white cheese, if you're that way inclined. Done! 

We served ours with some mustard greens and silverbeet sauteed in olive oil and garlic. Bloody delicious! And I tell you what - when you're growing and cooking food like this, you can forget about Curtis Stone and feeding the family for under 10 bucks. Try feeding the family for less than 3. And no farmers being exploited to boot!

mushrooms and other surprises

Last saturday the kids and I went with my friend Liz to Rocky Hall. The purpose of the trip was to try to find some pine mushrooms - our very first mushroom foraging adventure! I was pumped. Liz knew a place in Rocky Hall, about an hour south-west of Bega, that was, last Autumn and the Autumn before, covered in mushrooms. She didn't need to persuade me to make the trip out there, either. Rocky Hall is one of my favouritest places around these parts. Not that there's a lot there... maybe that's what I like about it. It's kind of wild... and ancient... and it has a certain feeling about it that I can't at all describe, but that resonates with me somehow. I suppose if I was a bit more woo woo, I'd say I'd "been there before", though I'm not 100% convinced that is the reason. Let's just say I dig it, for no real tangible reason, and leave it at that, shall we?

Aha! A pine mushroom... Apparently the only pine mushroom in the whole of Rocky Hall

On the mushroom front, however, Rocky Hall failed to deliver this particular Saturday. OK... we found one pine mushroom not far from Liz's old house, and we found this cool fungus as well, and there was an offer of a magic mushroom, but the heaving fry-pans full of butter and garlic and sizzling pine mushrooms failed to happen. Most likely, it's because it's not been such a wet season. Other foragers, like the writer of my favourite favourite blog, The Forager's Year, are reporting similar disappointments.

Cool fungus, happily photographed by Olive. If only it were edible...

Not to worry. The trip was fairly awash with consolation prizes, such as a dip in the creek, and big big pine trees to climb, and fairy gardens to discover and lunch at Liz's friend Susie's super-cute little cottage, which is nestled into the side of a little gully, looking for all the world like it's been there for ever. The house itself is not at all dissimilar in size, shape or stature to our own little Buckajo Bothy. When we arrived, I felt like I was seeing the property that's been in my mind's eye since I was about 15 - the kind of place I always thought I'd build - complete with covered gardens and massive fruit trees and eucalypts and slow-burning stove and lots and lots of bush and a gorgeous, rocky, rambling creek. The eery familiarity of the place prompted me to think about our own piece of land, which is so much more open than Susie's gully, and the differences in the houses (hers is red cedar clad, not strawbale), and the beauty of an established garden and a house that's been lived and created in for years and years. The whole time we were there (and for a few days afterwards) I reflected on the differences and similarities, and the ways in which dreams become reality. We are now, quite literally, building our dreams. We're working towards a vision that seems so real and solid to me... But seeing Susie's house made me realise how dreams can also change and evolve, depending on what the world throws at you, which I guess is what makes things exciting. It was a funny, unexpected kind of realisation to have on our failed mushrooming adventure, but I was grateful for it. 

A dip in this creek was a pretty good consolation prize

On the way home we stopped off to take a picture of Rocky Hall Cemetery, which I had fallen in love with, at first sight, about a year ago when I first saw it. Some people think it's weird for me to be thinking about such things, but I knew when I first laid eyes on it that this is where I want to be buried. It's peaceful, and kind of wild. It has a little gazebo and an old 44 gallon drum as a garbage bin. It has a looming rocky, scrubby hill, and there are only about 20 people buried there.

Rocky Hall Cemetery - my final resting place.

Hopefully next time we head down that way, the mushrooming will be more productive. But even if it's not, I know there will be a multitude of other adventures and surprises that will be pretty awesome consolations.

sewing again

It's funny to think now that this blog used to be just about sewing and craft. These days, not a lot of sewing gets done around these parts, on account of all the life-craft going on. Gone are the days of staying up all night with a bottle of red and some audio books, churning out skirts (sometimes 10 in one evening!) for Georgie Love or my market stall.

Not to say the life-craft isn't the most immensely rewarding thing we've ever done in our whole entire lives - it is. But it's also the most exhausting and the most time-consuming.

So I feel kind of out of practice writing a sewing blog. Sure, there have been the odd skirt, dress and bolero orders, but there's just so much else going on around here (this blog has more tags for strawbale-buiding-related posts than it does for skirt-related ones!) my beloved sewing machine has been a little neglected.

Testament to how neglected my sewing machine is (and how sewing-time-deprived I am) is the fact that my turnaround times for sewing jobs has crept up from 2 weeks (usually less) to more like 2 months! 

Take these dresses: Beloved and very dedicated P&E customer, Yolanda, requested these little babies back when I made this dress for Olive. Yikes! I'm a little horrified and ashamed of how long it's taken me to get them in the post. My only consolation prize is the fact that it's probably been to cold in Switzerland (where Yolanda lives) to wear them anyway.

It was, as always, fun sewing for Yolanda. It was especially fun sewing a grown-up sized version of the 'Olive', which turned out pretty sweet! One of the major perks of being a VIP&E like Yolanda is that I'm not at all hesitant to use my very most favourite fabrics for orders from these folks. In this instance, the crazy-good, immaculate flowers-and-fruits still life came out to bat for Yolanda. Pearl was a little bit miffed I wasn't using it for her (we've both had our eyes on it for years), but she recovered when she saw how cute the dress turned out.

The other dress was born of Yolanda's request for a sleeveless dress. The pattern is an oldie but a goodie, which hasn't been made since back in the days of P&E's regular stall at the Addison Rd markets in Marrickville, when it was a hot favourite of the ladies during summer.

Alas, it doesn't photograph well, especially when Florence is missing in action and I have to lay the dresses down flat on the grass. Hopefully you can use your imagination. - it's a wrap, with a tie-up kind of halter neck, and is made from a bloody beautiful West Australia Wildflowers tablecloth.

Yolanda, I hope you like your dresses. I hope they're worth the wait. I hope your Swiss summer is balmy enough to wear them as often as you feel inclined.

This summer bounty knows no end...

This morning's pickings

Each morning I wander through the garden, picking this and that, checking what's ripe or nearly ripe. Most days I collect a basket of edibles, this morning was no different. We have eaten well this summer. And for this we are very glad. 

Oh so burgeoning...

It was just last September we hurriedly planted our zone one garden, in the hope that we'd get something edibly productive happening quick smart. 

Three months later...

Initially we were wowed by the fertility of our soil and the wonders of a north facing garden. We had never known such garden productivity. But the sun trap that is our little piece of hill, which was such a blessing in September, became quite the source of anxiety in the heat that was this summer past. Those north-westerly winds and 45 degree days tested the garden and fried many beans atop the trellis. 

Assuming that summers of this intensity and greater will be a thing of the future, it was interesting to observe what was most resilient in the face of searing, out of control, killer heat. It was the stuff we intentionally planted in a guild.  A particularly successful little combo was the tomato + cucumber + lettuce + parsley + chives + chilies + capsicum + salvia + rocket version whereby the tomatoes and cucumbers clambered across a reclaimed bed head operating as trellis and provided some shade and wind protection to the abundant under-storey. All these months later, it's still going strong. That basket of deliciousness up top is from that little bit of garden experiment. 

We've been inundated with all that is wonderful about summertime garden eating - tomatoes, chillies, cucumbers, zucchini have been resplendent and we have eaten them every which way while also preserving what we could. Rohan from Whole Larder Love wrote a lovelier piece than I could, about harnessing the energy of summer to tide us over the lean months 0f winter. 

It's not the easiest of tasks to preserve large quantities of food, without a kitchen. You may recall we live in a teeny tiny house that has no kitchen to speak of. Once I moved through the overwhelming "Oh my god, what am I doing?" feeling, the whole outside kitchen preserving thing was pretty damn fun and actually quite delightful - sun in the trees, breeze on the face, view down the valley ( you get the drift) all the while cooking up tasty and gorgeous concoctions that will tide us over the cooler months. 

We made tomato chilli jam from our garden pickings. It's rich and intense heat is pretty seductive. 

You see tomatoes and chillies, we see chilli jam

oh the beauty of the chilli jam

Zucchini pickle was been a constant the past couple of years, however joy-of-joys this year we made it with our own zucchinis. It's tasty as with cheese and butter on a seeded sourdough sandwich. 

so much zucchini, so much old school pickle

Never before have we had excess cucumbers to preserve - 

Cucumber pickling team

Oh yeah!

Yes we ate well this summer, we've devised meals around what has been plentiful in the garden out the front of our little house.  Millions of people around the world live and eat this way, so let's not pretend we're special, for it is just common sense. There's the footprint reduction and the money saving (we have implemented austerity measures while we save to build our actual real life grown-up straw bale) and there's also the creativity that comes from working with what we have. I like this. One of our favourite meals this Summer has been, once again, Moro inspired - Zucchini, mint and fetta fritters, chopped salad and just-cooked flatbreads. It's joy on a plate. So much joy on a plate. 

Soon to come - recipe sharing galore.... 

Hurrah for non-smokey firebaths!

Newly-enclosed fire bath a-fillin with the hose

As you may know, the Joys Of The Firebath have been some of our most pleasant surprises, since moving to our land. Firing up the bath and wallowing - perhaps with a beer, perhaps with some cheese and crackers, perhaps, even, with some dinner - for several hours of a weekend is an important, cleansing (literally and figuratively) and much-cherished ritual for our family.

 

Sure, we're still getting used to the whole shebang, and there are still things to learn (for example, the last 2 fires I've made have been a little too enthusiastic, so we've spent some time waiting for the water to cool down before we could get in, and even then, burning our bottoms a bit) but it's safe to say that we dig the fire bath.

The view: just one of the reasons we love our fire bath

One problem we have encountered as that on windy days smoke, and on particularly unfortunate occasions, ash, will blow up and whirl around when you're in the bath. Not super pleasant. My solution to this was to construct an enclosure around the bath and erect a chimney. Like pretty much everything we've done here, this is something I've never done before. Surprisingly, it worked! There are still a couple of little cracks that didn't quite seal properly, which I need to fix up, but it is a VAST improvement, and we're all pretty pleased with the results.

 

First, I erected the chimney (an off-cut of downpipe from the tip) and a 'frame' in the space that needed closing in using chicken wire and fencing wire and a few rocks.

Then, I cobbed the whole thing, using a straw (yep, we still have some left over) and concrete mix. I did a couple of layers of the concrete and straw, then a layer of just plain concrete.

This all took a little while, so by the time this bit was done, it was time to have another bath. it was nerve-wracking! Would the smoke go up the chimney? Would it all just billow out the fire-making hole? Maybe now the fire wouldn't get enough oxygen and wouldn't burn at all!??

 

Luckily, happily, here's what happened:

yessiree, that's smoke coming out the chimney (Oscar's small chimney can be seen at far right)

Hurrah!!

 

We enjoyed our bath that day, and marveled at the new smoke-and-ash-free experience.

 

Next up, decorations!

Being as live in a house where our washing up arrangements consist of a tub on our outside table and a 'draining board' that involved the bench seats of said table, and being as we live with 2 small and very active little kiddies, we have a lot of broken dishes. A lot. I save them all, because I have dreams of mosaicing things, and that's just what I did to the concrete-y fire-bath enclosure: On a beautiful, sunny day, Osky and I spent a glorious few hours glueing on all our broken bits of crockery, collected over the last few months, interspersed with a few other things like sea glass and the bottom of an old (1962) beer bottle that I found in the bush.



Oski: I couldn't have done it without him



Then we grouted the whole shebang, and our luxurious, enclosed fire bath is now complete! Well, we are planning on painting the chimney (Frida blue of course!) and I do need to block up the couple of leaky bits where whisps of smoke escape... But still!

 

Bonus feature is that the new enclosed bit is perfect for holding soap, shampoo bottles, beer, snacks, and, perhaps most importantly, toy horses all within easy reach of the recline position. I say: that's what you need in your life, innit?

 

 

 

Nasturtium seed 'capers' finally make it to our table

I think I first heard about pickling nasturtium seeds for use instead of capers about 10 years ago. For some reason though, I've never made pickled nasturtium seed capers myself, despite the fact that I've pretty much always had nasturtiums growing in my gardens (for beauty, salad goodness and ground-covering), and have pulled great groves of them out of the bush on several occasions.

Nasturtiums: a rampant bushland pest, but a beautiful, versatile, abundant companion in the veggie garden, too

That is, I'd never made them until I read Wild Fermentation. That really spurred me on. And crikeys am I glad it did. Capers are one of those things that usually come from a long way away. The Mediterranean, to be precise. They're the immature flower buds of the caper bush, and when you buy them in Australia, they're usually pickled. They're pretty tasty, versatile little beggars, so it was high time I started to experiment with a more local version. So local, in fact, that I got a whole big jar of them from not more than 2 metres from our front door.
And they're super-easy to make:
First up, pick yourself a big bowl of nasturtium seed buds. I picked mine at night after the kids had gone to bed, by torchlight. It was rather nice to be patrolling the garden in the dark at that time of night, I can tell you. When I brought them inside, they looked like this.

Nasturtium seed pods just picked, ready for pickling

I then gave them a quick wash and, following the instructions in Wild Fermentation, put them in a jar with some whole garlic cloves, then covered them in some salt brine. Just salt and water. I then put a smaller jar full of water in the top of the big 'caper' jar, so that the 'capers' were pushed down and immersed. If they're exposed to the air, they'll grow mould - probably not what you're after.

I then just sat them on top of the cupboard for a week to ferment a bit in the brine. We tasted them after a week, and decided they weren't quite ready, so set them for another week, til they were just right.

We then just put the lid on the jar and put them all into the fridge, till we needed a bit of caper-y goodness. That moment came a few nights ago when we had  some people over and Pearly decided to pioneer a recipe found in her current fave cook book - Moro. 

Roasted red pepper salad with nasturtium pod 'capers' and home-made preserved lemons, local olives, hummus and home-made, still warm flatbread.. mmmmmm....

It was bloody delicious, and a perfect excuse to use up some of our favourite preserves. If you've never had preserved lemons, give them a burl. They're super-easy to make (if you know someone with a lemon tree I'm sure they'd be happy to give you a bag-full when they're on) and make all kinds of things taste, quite frankly, out of this world.

nasturtium seed pods, flowers and leaves also come in handy when constructing fairy gardens in the vietnamese mint (photo and fairy garden by Olive)

Thanks nasturtiums: Not only do you brighten our lives with your almost-year-round sunny sunny faces, and help us to cover our practical-and-recycled-but-really-pretty-ugly tyre retaining wall, but you do a pretty awesome job of standing in for a delicious morsel that would normally be shipped to us from the other side of the world. Yeah!

Secret to a happy life: always have at least one jar of nasturtiums on the dinner table