The end of an era

Yesterday I made this custom skirt for a lady called Christy. I was pretty excited when the order came through from Georgie Love, because Christy was after a yellow- and/or orange- themed skirt, and I just love the sunshiny hues. It just so happened that I had a delightful vintage poppy print just ready and waiting to go, too. 

The sad bit about this skirt order, though, is that, after 4 years of happy sewing, it will be my last order for Georgie Love. The delightful, fruitful relationship I've had with this most awesome of handmade-stuff providores has now come to an end, on account of the fact that Sal has finally decided to call it quits. 

That's right folks:  Georgie Love is about to close its cyber doors. *sob*

Obviously, this is a massive blow to hand-makers and handmade-lovers all over the world. Sal and Georgie stocked some beautiful wares. And in addition to having extremely delicious taste in handmade stuff, making their shop freaking awesome, they are also just generally tops individuals. OK... I've never actually met Georgie (the dog), but I'm sure he's a fine fellow.

Sal, I know for a fact, is ace-balls. Super-supportive and helpful of my crafty endeavours, endlessly patient with my sometimes outrageously doofus attitude towards computers and the inter-web, thoughtful, generous and at times (like when she talked me into buying the most expensive piece of clothing I have EVER owned) wickedly persuasive. And she's super cool.

But she's decided that Georgie Love is something she needs a break from. So from now on, I'll be forced to fend for myself in the big wide cyber-world. This is terrifying for me (on account of aforementioned cyber-doofus-ness) but probably happy for Sal - when you need a break, you need a break.

Sal - I wish you all the very best in your future endeavours!

Christy - I hope you like your sunshiny, historically-significant skirt. I find it quite fetching myself...

All the rest of you - to help Sal clear out her excess Georgie Love stock, she's offering 40% off when you use the checkout coupon code 'FINAL'. That's a pretty stunning discount. I ordered a few things myself, like this little house brooch for Pearl cuz... you know... we built a little house and stuff. 

This crazy-ass closing-down discount also means that you, dear reader, can snavel the remaining Georgie Love P&Es (including some sweet little-girl mini P&E tea-towel skirts) for a crazy price. CRAZY. Check 'em out. And from now on, if you want a custom P&E (or a bolero, or a bridesmaids/formal/wedding frock, or a crocheted stubby holder, etc etc), you'll have to come to me direct. On the inter-web. By sending me an email. Scary stuff...

Back on the crochet trail

Given that my mum's the one who taught me to sew and crochet, I sometimes feel a bit funny making stuff for her. For this mothers' day though, I knew exactly what I wanted to make for her. It all revolved around my latest crafty obsession - crocheted floral blocks. 

I've had a pretty non-comittal, on/off relationship with crocheting, never really getting into anything more than a scarf or a hot water bottle cover. Recently though, a few things have pushed my crocheting outputs up a notch. 

It all started with my friend Matt's birthday. I don't know about you, but I struggle with man craft. I just don't know what to make for the dudes in my life! This year, a crocheted beanie seemed like a good option for Matty. We're lucky here in the Beegs to have a crazy abundance of completely amazing fleece growers/dyers/spinners. In particular, a very lovely lady called Tabitha has been responsible for prompting me to get a little more into the fleecey crafts, mainly on account of the fact that she has a farm, where she has a ton of fleece-producing (and other) animals, which she cares for, shears, then dyes and spins the wool into all manner of beautiful yarns and related craft items. (If you watch the Australian River Cottage show, you'll probably see her). Her market stall is extremely beautiful and very exciting for the budding fleece-lover, and my crocheting output has increased of late simply because her things are so beautiful I want to buy something from her every time I see her. Matt's beanie wool came from Tabitha, and was spun specifically for him, using wool that came off a black/brown and white sheep. The wool was then over-dyed with some foresty green colours, so the whole shebang is a gorgeous, mottley affair, aptly befitting the fact that  Matt spends most of his waking hours in the bush and/or hanging around with plants. Unfortunately I forgot to take a photo of it before I posted it to him, so you'll have to take my word for it: it's rooly nice.

IN keeping with my explorations of crocheted man-craft, I started creating what I believe to be quite a winner (though not exclusively for the men, of course) - the crocheted stubby holder. If you believe that a special beer-loving man or lady in your life would like one of these beauties then you can contact me, and I will make you one (if you ask me nicely and give me 20 bucks).

Then there was the post on Fox's Lane about 'motifs'. Mysterious. Given that I'm a complete noobs to the crocheting world, these beauties were heretofore alien to me, but I was very enticed by the concept: cute, colourful and, above all, small, so easily completed in one go (a big plus for me... I have some attention issues).

Hand-dyed, homespun wool makes super-beautiful floral blocks for mothers' day skirts! The orange wool is dyed with Eucalyptus!!

Then (as if there weren't enough stars pointing me towards getting my crochet on) I was wandering around the library one day looking for a book on wood fired ovens (looking up the call number is just way too easy) when I discovered a book called 75 Crocheted Floral Blocks. I fell in love, and quickly became obsessed with working my

way through the book, making floral blocks, which I'd never even heard of before. One of the things I love about life, is that I can be 35 years old and still discovering craft things I've never heard of and falling in love with them. Ace.

So, that's a really long (and possibly unnecessary) explanation of my mum's Mothers' Day gift: a deep turquoise wool crepe skirt with floral blocks on it. I dig it. Mum digs it (even though she probably could have made it for herself). And sewing them onto a skirt is an excellent way to use up the floral blocks that are wafting around our place at the moment.

Green tomato and chilli jam - it's a knockout!

As I've mentioned, things are slowing down in the tomato-ripening stakes around here. Thing is, there are still tons on the bushes. As the days and nights get ever-colder, the chances of them ripening get slimmer. Having already whipped up a batch of Rohan's Season's End relish, we were after a different kind of preserve to use up the last of Summer's bounty, which includes some extremely cute (and hot!) habanero chillies. 

Sunshiny orange habanero chillis. I'm sure they've inspired a muppets character at some stage

It may seem strange to describe a chilli (or any vegetable for that matter) as 'cute', but there's something about these guys that just reminds me of something out of the Muppets. They almost look like they have a nose and mouth hidden in their funny little wrinkles. And the colour! Yes, I'm a little enthusiastic about them. When I took some in to sell at our local food co-op recently (along with some luscious bunches of kale, silverbeet, chard and red mustard leaves), I must have seemed more than a little like a doting mother, showing them off. But that's kinda how I feel about our garden and its produce. A little proud.

But the fact remains that (as always) we grew way more chillies than we knew what to do with. 

Sadly, chillies aren't a regular feature in our menus at home, on account of the fact that one of our kids is not at all keen on them. For this reason, the chilli condiment is in hot demand (sorry) because it can be added after cooking, according to personal taste.

The totally amazing chilli jam made by Ding has been rather a staple in our house since a very generous and kind friend sent us a whole box of it (it's not available in Bega), but that box has all but gone. So green tomato and chilli jam seemed the obvious choice of preserve. Thing is, it turns out that green tomato and chilli jam isn't really a thing. Not too many recipes made themselves available to me, so I took matters into my own hands, using just the ingredients list on the side of the last remaining Ding jar as guidance. 

Garlic, ginger, chillies and tomatoes at various stages of ripeness, ready to be blended in our special, Indonesian low-wattage blender

Here's what I did:

Chucked lots of tomatoes, chillies, garlic, ginger, little mini capicums and onions into our special low-wattage Indo blender (normal blenders would freak out our solar system) and whizzed it, adding malt vinegar as needed to make it liquid enough to blend. Then I dumped the whole lot into a big saucepan with some tamarind juice, some fresh mint, coriander and basil, a slop of sunflower oil, some sugar and some salt. Then I simmered the lot for about an hour. When it seemed to be a good jam consistency, I put it into hot, sterilised jars.

I know this recipe might seem a lot like George's Marvellous Medicine, but here's the thing: just like George's concoction, my jam really worked!! The jars all sealed! It tastes freaking delicious!

Unfortunately, the 'George' method of cooking probably means I'll never be able to recreate the glory... Or maybe I will, in infinite variations, for all the years we grow too many chillies and need a way to preserve them. Who's to know? We'll just have to wait til next Autumn to find out. Hopefully this lot will last til then.

Mmmmmmmmmmmm

The luxury of a simple life

I never could have imagined the love I'd feel for our piece of land. It's the ultimate healing location for me, and most days I feel like there's nowhere else in the whole wide world that I'd rather be.

I can't even really describe what it is about our place that makes me feel this way. It's definitely beautiful. It's peaceful (most of the time, when our neighbours aren't chainsaw-ing or dirt biking), and yeah - I guess it's partly because it's 'ours', though this feeling is more about stewardship than ownership. 

Salvias and nasturtiums in the morning light

It's about having an opportunity to do something positive for this land - to manage it holistically, sustainably, regeneratively and productively. It's about being able to build and dream and imagine and create, without  having to worry about being forced to move on before we're ready. It's about being able to plan and plant, to put trees into the ground that aren't going to bear fruit for more than a decade. It's about long-term investments and watching things grow. It's about seeing other places, where people have lived for decades, and being able to think "that's what our place will be like one day". These are luxuries, we know it, and we feel blessed to be able to revel in these (and other) joys on a daily basis. 

Extra-tall sunflowers that just refuse to face the same way as the others. This sunflower made me smile - literally - every day while it was in bloom

They keep us grounded. They give us perspective. They help us feel better when we're sick or sad or tired.

Baby Bunn and her ever-pleasing perches

Even though these things may be 'simple' in a Western, 'developed-world' context, they are, in the scheme of the world, vast and beautiful luxuries. Losing sight of this perspective on our good fortune (mostly resulting from sheer luck at being born into the middle class in the first world), I feel, would detract from the joys that surround us, so we surely don't take any of it for granted. 

A pair of king parrots who visited daily towards the end of summer to clean up some of the remnant cherry tomatoes on our tomato trellis.

The little things - like watching the ducks foraging in the orchard, eating breakfast in the sun while the kids play on the tyre swing, eating a dinner made just from our garden, observing the daily and seasonal changes to the land and the veggie garden, watching a stunning moon-rise over the valley - are all 'simple' pleasures. But they're pleasures because we have the luxury to enjoy them as such. This is what we truly have to be grateful for: the luxury of choosing a 'simple' life.

Summer's last hurrah

A mix of tomatoes (some Amish Paste, some Tommy Toe, some Random Compost tomatoes), and our beloved Rotonda Bianca Sfumata di Rosa eggplants.

As you may well have noticed, Summer's gone. Sure, our garden's still cranking out handfuls of cherry tomatoes, and we still have chillies and eggplants hanging around, but they're growing and ripening more slowly now, as our night-time temperatures drop. These summer fruits - the nightshades - are much beloved in our family. Pearl even has quite a large tattoo of an eggplant to show her devotion! 

Despite our love though, eggplants have never grown in super-abundance for us. We're not really sure what we do wrong, but we suspect it has something to do with inconsistent watering. Oops. When we do grow and harvest them, they are treasured. So beautiful! So delicious!

With the coming of the cooler months, and the obvious slowing-down of our summer solanum harvest signalling the end of the Summer, we decided to have a feast to celebrate Summer's last hurrah. Our recipe of choice was Jamie's Eggplant Parmigiana. Can't go wrong with some fried eggplant, a tomato sauce and a bunch of cheese and bread baked to golden perfection, I say. And given our oven-less state, the whole shebang was whipped up on/in the barbecue!

Mmmmm.... nightshades.....

Like Pearl said, this recipe is perfect for the turn of season: eggplants and tomatoes are at their prime, but you need the cool crispiness of autumn to really enjoy this meal: it's not so much for the mid-summer dining. But with our window-blankets rolled down and the Autumn winds howling around our little bothy, it was the perfect way to enjoy the end of our summer's bounty.

bartering = joy

I've recently had a few super-positive and fun bartering experiences. Come to think of it, all of my experiences with bartering have, in fact, been super-positive and fun. I guess that's just the way bartering is. 

Amazing orange giant-rose-print teatowel skirt makes for a jealous Pearl

Maybe it's because money, while (unfortunately) necessary, isn't actually as fun as some of the things I've recently been bartering for, like handmade recycled silver earrings and boxes of completely ace-balls haberdashery. Don't get me wrong: I love sewing and being paid for it. But when I'm sewing, I'm not usually thinking about the money - I'm thinking about what that money will be used for. Take Yolanda's dresses: While I was sewing them, I wasn't thinking about the cash, I was thinking about an electric fence. And if Yolanda was up for it (and was in that line of business) I would have happily traded some frocks for an electric fence. So I guess in instances like that one, money is kind of handy. But in other cases - like the case of these here skirts - direct trade is completely ace.

Zip it right on down!

A few months ago, I found out that my supremely talented friend Nicole was having a garage sale. Nicole's garage sales are... well... they're unbelievable, on account of Nicole being an incredible hunter-gatherer of all things beautiful. She's so good at collecting beautiful things, she doesn't have time to use them all, so occasionally has garage sales.

Being as we are now located in Bega, attending Nicole's sale (in Sydney) wasn't really an option. Luckily for me, Nicole is lovely, and she was happy to make a personalised selection of wares, which she sent down to me. Her 'price'? A P&E skirt. I. Feel. Lucky.

Printed velvet + bright floral teatowel = fun times

Shamefully, Nicole's box of goodies arrived some months ago and I've only just gotten to the skirt. Extra-shamefully, Nicole was the recipient of a custom P&E skirt for Christmas, which has also only just been done. I don't want to list excuses - let's just say I'm sorry.

And I hope that the skirts are satisfactory!

News from the orchard part 2: the quest for a fox-proof chook house

Olive tends her flock - Errol's in the foreground with the glorious orange neck feathers, new 'Fort Choox' chook house behind

Fox-proofing the poultry community on our little farm has proved to be more difficult than we anticipated. When we first got the ducks, I made a dome. It was dodgy as all shit on account of the fact that I used the wrong kind of pipe, but we didn't have any trouble with foxes, though in hindsight I think that had more to do with the fact that our neighbours were baiting because it was lambing season. Just before we got the chooks, we built a snazzy A-frame house, which was, I thought, fox proof. Not so much. We had a few break ins, lost a few chooks, and I even spent one night in the orchard on an inflatable mattress chasing the fox off before I decided that the A-frame had to go. I'd patched it and patched it, and the mongrel fox was still getting in. We needed a new plan, a new design. So I consulted with my ever-helpful and thoughtful friend David, who had become quite interested in our fox-proofing plight (he enjoys a challenge). After many sketches, home-brew sessions and whiteboard-planning meetings, we devised a fox-proof chook house that fulfilled the following criteria:

1. Zero cost 

2. accessible for kids to let out/put chooks away/collect eggs 

3. FOX PROOF 

4. includes a run so we can go away for a night or 2 without having to organise for someone to come and lock up/let out chooks 

5. comfy for chooks.

Chook house almost complete

The house we made was kind of inspired by Milkwood's rawbale chook house, though we obviously didn't use bales. We did borrow their idea of having a mesh floor for ventilation in summer, which is covered in thick straw in winter. And the house is (obviously) raised off the ground to thwart that fox digging his or her way in. Walls are corrugated iron (bastard fox ain't gonna chew through that in a hurry), held up with bush poles from David's place, floor mesh came from some supermarket shelving that was being chucked out, all timber was scrap from other projects/salvaged from the tip, and the pen is made from mattress springs that are dug into the ground down to 40cm. We'll be planting passionfruit vines on either side, to climb on the mattresses to provide shade in the pen during summer. It took about 10 hours to build (4 hours with David's help), not including the time it took to dig the trenches for the mattresses and holes for the bush poles.

At the moment, we have 8 chickens living in it (John Howard (our breeding rooster), a rooster we'll be eating as soon as he starts to crow, Errol, and 5 laying hens), and I reckon that's about the limit. When we expand our flock to include commercial meat birds, we'll be building more pens a-la Joel Salatin. But for the purposes of the orchard, 8 chooks (and 11 ducks) is just fine.

The back door - for chook ingress/egress, egg collection and house-cleaning

All in all, the chooks seem to dig it, and we've had no evidence that the fox has been hanging around or trying anything out. It's easy for Olive to tend to her flock (especially Errol, who is currently preparing for the Far South Coast Annual Poultry Show), and, if I do say so myself, it's pretty good to look at. Though it seems to me you can't really go wrong with bush poles, old gal and beautifully rusted mattress springs...

View down the orchard showing swale to duck pond, chooks and chook house