Brown baby

Her parents are pale and slow to tan, but this one has inherited her maternal grandfather's olive skin.

Obi one

In the last seventeen years I have used my sewing machine exactly five times. Four of these times have been during the last fortnight*. Sitting down and sewing...it's a good feeling. But why now? I think it's a combination of having the machine now permanently set up, having at my fingertips a whole bunch of lovely bits and pieces of fabric that I emancipated from Mum's sewing room, reaching some kind of peak in my long held desire to make my (our) own clothes, and seeing this, which of all the beautiful things I see in my travels around the blogosphere, somehow managed to trigger something in me that said, yes, I could have a go at something like that.
So, this is my second attempt at a 'scarf'. Actually, it's kind of weighty, so maybe it's more of an obi, or even a turban if you're feeling adventurous. (Whatever it is, it needs a good iron). It was fun to make, and I learned a lot. Such as sometimes when you think you're sewing in a straight line, you're really not, and that there is a really good reason that you can use different thread colours for your spool and bobbin.

*Mark's response on reading this: 'And all this time we've been carting that damn thing all over the country?!'

Buzzy

Check out these gorgeous fabrics! I love them all, but especially the bitey looking bees from the Japanese Echino range and these startled owls hand printed in Sydney by Kristen Doran. They do not charge shipping within Australia, they are having a sale, they sell in 25 cm increments and I just (finally) got paid. As Martha would say, 'uh oh! UH oh!'

Bag lady

For the last few days Martha has been (literally) dragging around a tatty old plastic shopping bag filled with 'very important' scavenged items - nuts, squashed sultanas, broken pens, hair clips, a mobile phone - from which she will not be parted (like a Womble, makin' a use for the things that she finds, things that the everyday folk leave behind). I've been wanting to make a little bag for her for ages, but just haven't had (or made) the time to sit down and do it. But today, I could bear that horrible plastic no longer. In a forty minute gap between two work interviews I madly cut and sewed at express speed to produce this. It's not my finest moment in handcrafting, but it was one of the most satisfying. As I was ironing it she was standing beside me going 'woof! woof! arf! arf!' (she likes to mix up her dog barks) and when I handed it over, she squealed with delight and ran off to fill it with...stuff.
Er...yes, that is a pair of my undies around her neck. Apparently she feels naked without them.

When we finally unhooked the bag from her arm so that she could have her bath, I had a little peek at what was inside. That's right girls, never head out without a disembodied action man face. You never know when you might need it.

As the crow flies...

...from here to Mackay QLD it is 1918 kilometres.

It's official. After weeks of thinking, deciding, interviewing, updating qualifications and finally accepting, Mark is taking up a new job as an electrician...in Queensland. Actually, it's not so bad. It is a fly in/fly out position, with nine days on (in QLD), followed by five days off (back here), looking after a giant machine that runs on the coal rail lines and somehow 'cleans' them by lifting the tracks and ballast up, shaking them, and laying it all back down again. To me it sounds like it violates a law or two of physics, but I'm assured that this is what it does. It can't be easy though - apparently this machine is high maintenance and quite temperamental - and from what I can gather Mark's new role will include giving it regular pep talks and soothing pats.

We're both looking forward to it, no doubt for different reasons. For me, there is relief that Mark has found something interesting and challenging to do that is also financially rewarding, plus a perverse kind of excitement at flying solo as a parent (I know, I'm sure this will pass) and (re) learning how to spend productive time on my own (I know, I'm sure this will pass too!).

Mark's start date coincides with the annual big machine clean-a-thon (or something) so he will be doing a regular nine day stint, followed by a special five day stint, to be followed by another nine day stint. Yes, this means that his first trip away will be 22 days. After this, I'm sure nine days will seem like a piece of cake.

String

Doesn't it always come back to sticks and string? We're hoping that this will be the last in a long series of so far ineffectual dog and toddler barriers around our poor downtrodden salads and brassicas.

A hand made house

The building of houses has, in our culture at least, been well and truly handed over to the 'experts'. Most of us would see it as a project too big, too technical and with too many opportunities for spectacular failure to tackle ourselves. So we direct our desire, or instinct even, to create a comfortable shelter, shaped around the needs of ourselves and our families, to the interiors of our houses. But it's interesting to think about what kind of house we would build if we had to, if it was down to us to make good use of the materials that we could scrounge, buy or barter in the few miles around us. What kinds of shapes and structures would we use? Would size be as important as facing the winter sun, good ventilation in summer, a human scale, easy to paint?

When I was a teenager I was fascinated by the architecture of Hundertwasser, who allowed the very human and very particular needs of the ultimate occupants to guide his design, rather than fashion, or the technical constraints of modern building materials. His buildings sought to reconnect people with their natural surroundings, as that was, for Hundertwasser, a essential condition of human flourishing. He also believed that structures, not just the decorated interior, should be idiosyncratic, personal, moulded from and around its inhabitants. I absolutely agree with him. I know from personal experience that the structures around us can shape our mood, our attitudes towards ourselves and others, our actions and even our aspirations. After living in the heart of Sydney for eleven years, it was the realisation of this that made it impossible to stay, and that indirectly led to my new home on this farm.

When I walk around here and see the myriad little shelters that the creatures around us have created - the wombat condominiums in the back dam wall, the swallows' elegant little mud nests, the cosy little rat bush rat tunnels lined with our passionfruit leaves - I do wonder about our stark and square little house on the prow of the hill, buffeted by winds from every direction and visible for miles around. Much of our garden planning has been trying to mitigate the effects its construction and siting - we freeze in winter and cook in summer. This house was a quick rebuild, after a disastrous house fire in the 1940's, started by a rogue coal after the ashes from the stove were emptied under the house, so I understand that speed no doubt governed all decisions here. But perhaps if Hundertwasser had wandered into town he would have retained the hilltop site, as resting the gaze on a distant horizon is the perfect mode of contemplation, but dug us into the ground for warmth, covered our roof with grass and spring flowers for good cheer, and built us a front step that caught the winter sun and of just the right height to have our bum in the kitchen but our feet firmly planted on the ground. Maybe it would look a little like this amazing 'low impact woodland home' - built in three months by two people with no previous building experience, out of local materials, for the princely sum of three thousand pounds. Check out the link for their wonderful and inspiring story (all photos in this post are of this house, images used with permission). If we ever find ourselves in need of shelter one day, perhaps we'll try and see what we can do with our own hands, and our own Hobbit-y aspirations.