Dry as chips...
...for Knots in the String.
Autumn sent us a card this week – a save this date type of thing. A reminder, if you will.
After day upon day of burning sun and pervasive heat, we had two days of delicious cool. Still wearing shorts of course, but with jumpers on and for the evening walk, dragging on leggings, runners and a padded vest. With a few leaves on trees and the miniature cyclamen predicting change.
Heaven, I tell you! I had to restrain myself from yelling ‘At bloody last!’ But all good things come to an end, and later in the week, I’m back in short sleeves. Sigh…
Our town water supply is down to bedrock and we haven’t had the Easter tourist influx yet – the thrips, the incomers, the hordes. Do they care if our water supply dwindles to nothing? I doubt it when they’re paying $A500 a night for an AirBnB. And so we battle on with Stage Two water restrictions, watering the garden every second day, using the old phrase ‘When its yellow, let it mellow. When it’s brown flush it down’ in the bathroom.
Buckets in the shower to catch water to put on desperate plants. Sharing a bath when our muscles and joints are aching. No more separated lights and darks in the wash – I throw it all in together and hope for the best.
I buy Soil Wetta in town and mulch everything thickly with lucerne hay. I empty tired and dry annuals from pots and leave the pots bare until winter. We had an inch of rain the other night and our broad-leaf weed grass is now bright green so hooray for that. But there’s no longterm prediction for an autumn-break rain (a farmer’s godsend) and we are now in drought.
On our farm, grain and lucerne hay are being fed to the stock to keep up their condition. Ten years ago we invested in an excellent irrigation scheme that supplies the vineyards and farms in our valley, so we can water crops and keep our dams full. Others are not so lucky. Farmers and horse owners are scrambling to buy hay.
But the thing with farmers and gardeners is that they are philosophical people who have been under the thrall of the weather gods since Time Immemorial. In the meantime, I talk to my plants, encouraging them to hang in there, promising them water every second day, and saying ‘It’ll rain one day…’. By which I mean it will rain for a few days, maybe more, wetting the subsoil and filling local water supplies.
I don’t know when, but it will happen…
Other things:
If we end up in some Dystopian nether world, which seems to be the plan with people like Netanyahu, Putin, Trump and Hegsith, I’ve discovered the perfect foodstuffs to keep us going. My three zucchini plants and my rhubarb could feed an army, coping with the drought as if they are super-charged.
So far, I’ve made zucchini everything - tarts, pies, soups, chocolate brownies and savoury muffins. All the savoury things are flavoured with a liberal use of herbs, feta and sundried toms. The brownies are moist and very vegetarian with no eggs. Would I make them again? Most likely. Depends how many more zucchinis we pick.
I’ve also made rhubarb icecream with no cream at all and it’s absolute delish! I have no electric icecream maker and so beat it three times over a few hours as it froze, to break up the ice crystals. It seems to work, but I may invest in a small icecream maker as we have a significant cache of beautiful berries.
There’s apple chutney, pear chutney and rhubarb chutney yet to make and herb and walnut apple pies. The quinces aren’t quite ready but there’s masses of them – such an unfriendly fruit but with the fragrance of the Gods.
We’re picking blackberries currently (blackberry jam and blackberry icecream?) and my friend Willie gave me a dozen fresh eggs, so frittata for dinner this evening. Stockpiling from hedgerow and orchard is such a satisfying thing – nature’s provender. It fills our freezer for the year ahead and nothing is wasted. Good for the soul.
Ballet. Hurrah!!! I feel a little progress creeping in. As if my body and brain are strengthening the wiring. But then again, it may be because I placed myself behind beautiful Thistledown Kate who is a former ballet dancer and so perfect to watch. I copied her although I’m prepared to admit that 5’3” of challenged body will never ever mark the choreography as she does. But even a few little tendus, fondus and the occasional port de bras done remotely right gives one fledgling confidence.
I was asked recently why I love the sea so much and I answered that it’s my lifeblood. This image I found may explain it more eloquently. My darling Mum and I on the beach that I walk every day.
My chap with his gorgeous girlfriends, just because. He and Vita are so in love!
Seven Week Challenge is almost up, and I’ll keep going because mentally and physically I feel better for it, despite aches that lay me out in the evenings. Five days a week of 10000+ steps – sometimes 11000-13000. A steep hill climb twice a week. Swimming every couple of days. Ballet. Gardening. That’s the schedule. Sometimes I think the mental ease is the most important benefit. Time will tell.
The Easter tree is decorated with an increasing number of handmade felt eggs. Some I stitched for last Easter and I have a few more to finish plus some to make as gifts. Every egg tells a whimsical little story and are a delight to stitch – choosing colours, deciding on the narrative, stitching away while the TV is off. The silence is profound outside of the city.
(This image above shows a few of them. Each egg is double sided and I’ve copyrighted the designs… there are twenty four altogether.)
Phoebe’s Prime. Interesting to take Phoebe back to when she first met the man who will be her husband. I had no idea in my head what he would be like or how the relationship would develop enough to have her on her own in her seventies. I think I’m happy with what is transpiring.
And finally…
If I offended anyone with my comments on last week’s post in respect of the US-Iran War, I apologise. My stats seemed to indicate that many were offended. It was a rather startling downturn.
They say never to put a ‘but’ with an apology but I was angry when I wrote that post. Disturbed. Worried for my children and for the world’s innocent.
You may think ‘What does it matter to her on that tiny island on the bottom of the world,’ but it is affecting us in any number of ways – cost of living being the most obvious. Also, as I’ve said before, how does one explain the concrete evidence to a seven year old?
If you have any ideas, do please let me know.
On a much sweeter note:
A little video that expresses love and kindness…
You write about the wonder, joy, beauty and challenges of your life. I would think your head was in the sand on that lovely beach if you did not mention geopolitics or trump. It just feels so hard to be human these days because we know what is hope and beauty. Thanks for writing.
It is always interesting to hear of your seasonal changes as we are flipflopping. I delight in the first leaves on my rhubarb, the crocus and daffodils blooming, the bluebirds busy with collecting nesting materials. The forsythia are in full bloom , the maples a hazy red with buds, the willows, pale green. We are planning for our March No Kings Day with renewed focus on Joy, sign making gatherings, songs being learned, banners constructed.
On a very personal note, we welcomed the birth of a new grandson, all 8lbs,10 oz of lovely cuddly joy. All are doing well and I am planning my annual trip to Oahu to officially meet him in May. Great joy and gratitude during these times.