Hard rubbish heaven

Something for everyone always!

Autumn Babe

 

 

 

Baptism by beard

 

 

 

We didn't catch any yabbies so.........

 

 

 

 

 



Welcome baby Rosa - we are so happy you are here!



A happy chappy in his new vest...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Honey Cowl on the go...

Sisters of Song, Tea and All Things Goodly....

Hope all you marvelous mamas out there had a splendid day xxx

 

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Autumn chalk board

bushwhacking in the bush....

Kay's spinning wheel.

I continued knitting at the in-laws' place on the way home...

In the wee hours of Saturday morning Big Honey and I headed north to deliver a bee hive and bees to Yorta Yorta land, where we spent the day and night and following morning  with two very gorgeous women, Kay and Rochelle. Beautiful people, beautiful place. Big Honey did his goodly thing - explaining the way of bees. We were joined by a few other locals and drank much tea. We talked a lot, cooked on the open fire, slept in complete silence under a startlingly clear, star-lit sky and came home smelling of smoke and feeling the goodness of the land within. Thank you dear ladies for your warmth and hospitality. We hope to come back soon!

Where I got to finish Beau's vest! I'm just sewing on a toggle and then he can wear it. I'm proud and pleased with my first proper project. Ravelled here.! Now I'm making a Honey Cowl and thinking about all the other projects I want to start!!!

 

My wee laddie is now officially reading on his own, chapter books...reading out the funny bits to me.Good timing before a cold winter, to enter the land of books .I remember my first book, read alone, curled up on a couch on summer holiday - I was 7 I think -The Magic Faraway Tree. What a revelation. A new world to lose myself in...

For all you knitters......x

Ode to My Socks

Mara Mori brought me
a pair of socks
which she knitted herself
with her sheepherder's hands,
two socks as soft as rabbits.
I slipped my feet into them
as if they were two cases
knitted with threads of twilight and goatskin,
Violent socks,
my feet were two fish made of wool,
two long sharks
sea blue, shot through
by one golden thread,
two immense blackbirds,
two cannons,
my feet were honored in this way
by these heavenly socks.
They were so handsome for the first time
my feet seemed to me unacceptable
like two decrepit firemen,
firemen unworthy of that woven fire,
of those glowing socks.

Nevertheless, I resisted the sharp temptation
to save them somewhere as schoolboys
keep fireflies,
as learned men collect
sacred texts,
I resisted the mad impulse to put them
in a golden cage and each day give them
birdseed and pieces of pink melon.
Like explorers in the jungle
who hand over the very rare green deer
to the spit and eat it with remorse,
I stretched out my feet and pulled on
the magnificent socks and then my shoes.

The moral of my ode is this:
beauty is twice beauty
and what is good is doubly good
when it is a matter of two socks
made of wool in winter.

 

Pablo Neruda

bushwhacking in the burbs

Picking Olives, getting smokey, cooking on the fire, knitting and just hanging out at home. Much needed.