Flutter

 

I’ve always been an engaged parent – conscious that everything I do – or don’t do can have ripple effects through an entire life.  I try to keep my kids curious, engaged, confident, compassionate.  Aware they have things others don’t – open to sharing what they do have, or perhaps feeling cared for in the knowledge that what they have isn’t what everyone has.

When my son was 3 I put him and his baby sister down on the waiting list of some private schools, and felt kind of sick about it.  It is impossible to know what kind of person your child will be as a teenager – whether they will be sporty – need extra help, need protection from bullies, need to be challenged academically or socially.  Revel in privilege or feel trapped by it.  Impossible.   It never occurred to me that we had left it too late.  Perhaps a generation too late.

Private schools in Melbourne have such long waiting lists that unless you are a parent that went there, or a sibling is already at the school your child may not have any chance of attending.  Course they don’t tell you that when they take your money to go on the list and leave you feeling like you have bought a share in something to be decided at a later date.  Let you sit feeling safe and not actively looking for alternatives.

So I waited, thinking the hardest decision would be which one it should be when the time came.  And the last year has brought a sinking realisation that even if we had the money to pay for it, he wasn’t being offered a place.  Simple as that.

And now the mad last-minute scramble of public  school tours is in full flight, and I find myself totally stunned by where he will be, and who he might become.  Without wanting to sound like a snob, I went to a clean, well resourced school, and it is shocking to me to see crumbling walls, smelly carpets, lockers that need repair and padlocks everywhere.  Facilities clearly lacking.  Questionable companions.  The school we attended last night was a warren of concrete corridors & gates, some classrooms seeming to have been outdoor rooms roofed over.

Some kids had shiny eyes and were full of enthusiasm.  Others looked positively skanky.  A sea of bewildered parents trying to grasp what the school is like during the day offered no feelings that this was where we should be as a family.

Don’t get me wrong – the principal’s speech was inspiring, I found the teachers to be most enthusiastic and approachable, and we saw some elective subjects that would have made my heart soar as a high school student, their school jazz band was actually brilliant and very enjoyable, but I have a fundamental inability to know who my son will be in 3 years time, and whether that environment will nourish or suffocate him.  Will he get lost in the chaos?

It’s clearly the role of a school to prepare their students to be citizens of the future.  To be able to find work they enjoy & excel at.  To feel confident as people and to be responsible members of society who enrich the world they find themselves in.  We saw a clip from a professor in the US, that was very interesting and his theories underpin the school’s values.  Maths & English are important skills, clearly, but countries that have enforced academic excellence in these areas may be doing so at the expense of other skills that are proving to be more important every day; creativity, lateral thinking, the ability to design and invent what hasn’t been thought of before.  He stressed that looking at pure scores is no indication of a person’s value or the contribution they are capable of making as independent people.

I suspect he is right.  And I know from my own experience in a school where rote learning, right answers and scores were important, that creativity can be a hard thing to harness and direct.  Perhaps they are getting that last bit very right?  It was so hard to tell.

We learned nothing of what a day would be like.  School camps?  Drug policies?  Bullying?  It was all very confusing.  Too much information and not enough information.

At another school visit, I walked away feeling like it might be a good place, with those questions answered, but I didn’t actually meet any kids or get a feeling for the culture as a whole.  And as it turns out we’re not actually zoned for that school anyway.  I am over choosing and having no choices.

We have 16 days left to fill in our forms, and while I know I’ll be doing my best to keep my precious guy on an even keel and know he will continue to be a decent, fascinating person, its terrifying to trust that another community will have the same respect for him that I do.  It’s a very vulnerable place to be – teetering on the edge of the next stage.  Waiting to see how the cards fall.

I’m hoping he will be a strong flyer.

Picky

 

I have been terribly self-indulgent lately.

Wallowing in the misery of my comfortable, employed, well-fed existence.  Wailing about having to drive to work when I would rather be creating some art and making money from that, while having the time to watch the cabbages growing.

My uncle once told me that all one could ever expect out of a job was 10% enjoyment.  The rest was solid, hard slog.  I always thought that was a bit pessimistic.  I always thought that if you worked really hard at something you loved you would become great enough at it, that you could make it your job.  I still think that’s true, but there are a lot of other factors too.  One of which is that repetition makes what you love less enjoyable.  Doing what you love for a living can break your spirit too.  And you need people to want to exchange money for what you do.  You are SO lucky if that happens.  If it all synchronises you are thoroughly blessed.

I have been thinking SO much about how to turn things around.  Listening to the universe and listening to my own heart about what it is that brings happiness.  I’m still listening, and have no answers, but that’s OK.  One thing that I have begun to realise in a really powerful way is that people who manage to grasp their dreams do it by working their arses off.  By coming home from their day jobs and working into the night on what makes them sing.  By working for nothing for themselves.  By talking to everyone about what it is they do, and by doing it well.

It’s true – your reap what you sow.

A few years ago I made a modest income from my art.  I sold fairly well, and worked very hard for the sales.  Then I made a huge hook turn and creating a new life was paramount.  Life is good.  Great actually, and every day is a joy, but I do feel like I’ve let myself down in not keeping the art trajectory at an even pace.  I start.  I stop.  I go bake something.  I renovate a room.  Get a cat.  Some chickens.  Clean up the house which is in complete disarray.  there seems very little time for art.

Yet I watch the TV and sit complaining that there’s nothing on it worth watching.

So – universe, I’m now declaring that I’m giving it another red-hot go.  I’m prepared to work like mad, and put myself out there again.  I’m even ready to diarise dates, get less sleep and talk to people I don’t know yet.  I’m getting excited.

I’m off to work on my website…

the boy who sews

It’s a delayed post this one – but I wanted to record how clever this little man of mine is.
He desperately wanted to make a Link costume from “The Legend of Zelda”. We looked it up  (there are so many variations!), and he found the one he liked the most. Armed with a shopping list we hit the fabric store, and brought home 2 kinds of jersey, and some fantastic boiled wool type fabric.
He found a t-shirt he liked the fit of, and a leggings pattern, and we cut out our basic shapes.  Then, he took the overlocker for a whirl.

He’s a natural. And barring a few skewy seams that needed to be corrected, he did a great job!

The tunic, was a long rectangle, folded in half with a neck cut out, and side seams sewn on the regular machine.

The hat required measuring the diamater of head his – plus a little bit as it’s supposed to be a loose fit, then cut a long triangle and sew a seam. Nothing fancy.

Queue accessorising, and he was a very happy camper.

And totally, TOTALLY thrilled he had made it himself.

Zucchini Relish

Our zucchini plants have been abundant!

Lots and lots – not too many for us though – we have had 3 plants steadily producing through the summer and eaten just about all of them.

We have had grilled zucchini on the BBQ in salads and on their own.  We have had raw zucchini salads in thai style dressings.  We have had zucchini slice from a few different recipes.  We have had chicken meatballs cooked in a stewed zucchini and garlic reduction, zucchini (with tomato, onion and potato) soup, chocolate zucchini cake (so, so good) and pickled zucchini with onion, but by far the best thing we have done has been this zucchini relish, which is not too sweet, has a cumin twist and a slight amount of heat from the chilli.  I like it because it’s not too sweet. The husband has greedily devoured most of the jars in less than 2 weeks and declares it a success!

Zucchini Relish (makes 8ish jars):

• 1.5kg zucchini
• 2 red, 2 green capsicum
• 3 large onions
• 1/2 cup salt
• 2 heaped tablespoons cumin
• 2 heaped tsp chilli paste
• 2 heaped tsp mustard seeds
• 2 heaped tsp turmeric
• 1/4 tsp black pepper
• 1.5 cups vinegar
• 2.5 cups boiling water
• 1.5 cups sugar 

Slice the zucchini, onion & capsicum finely -I used the slicer attachment on my kenwood mixer but a hand held mandolin slicer would work just as well.  Or do it by hand if you are very, very patient….  There’s quite a lot of thin slicing involved.  Be warned.

Put all the veggies in a large mixing bowl, cover with the salt, and toss well.  Leave them for an hour - they will release water.  Strain and rinse the veggies and squeeze them to get rid of all the liquid.

In a large saucepan combine the vinegar & water with the sugar & spices.  Add the veggies and bring to boil – then reduce to a simmer for 20-30 minutes.  If there is still liquid left after 30 minutes, remove some in a cup, add 1 tablespoon of cornflour to thicken and put that back into the put to cook for another 5 minutes.

Spoon the relish into sterilised jars and store in the fridge.

delicious blur – Part 3

When I was little I remember looking at my great grandfather’s fingers – he had lost some (in a woodworking accident).  I asked him what happened to them, and he said, he had poked them through some chicken wire and the chickens had pecked them off!  Terrifying!  Lucky I didn’t end up with a complex about chickens really.

As a kid, we used to visit my Dad’s cousin’s farm, and they had chooks.  I remember the gentle sounds they made, the thrill and fright when they flapped their wings, waking up to roosters (the best sound) and the total joy of finding an egg to bring back to the kitchen.  Such treasure! 

It never occurred to me until recently that we could actually have some of our own.  That we could collect eggs from our own backyard chooks and let the kids experience the joys of being around our own flock – gathering treasure of their own.

I built a kit-form chook house, and decided that it was just going to be too small for 4 hens – too small to enter easily and clean, and perhaps too difficult to make fox-proof – which was our major fear.

Did you know that there are 4-5 foxes per square km in Melbourne?  They feast on possums and garbage and hide in abandoned houses, behind sheds, and in parks.  We can’t (not that I could) cull in the city as they do in the country and so the population continues to grow and they need to be fed.  I actually like foxes – they are beautiful to watch, but I don’t want to invite them to dinner.  No.

 

My totally awesome, skilled, non-complaining and very patient Dad came to stay, and he made us this awesome A-framed house from treated pine and a whole lot of fence-palings that the previous owner had left under the decking (thanks for the timber!).  We had seen a few A-frame houses around and decided that we wanted something rustic, and recycled and bigger than those we had seen to allow for a bigger flock.

The floor is missing from this photo – but it’s made from boards screwed together in sections for easy removal and cleaning.

There are 2 generous nesting boxes for 4 chickens to share, and a roosting perch about 1ft off the floor on the other side from the nesting boxes.  Chickens sleep on the roost and poo in their sleep, so you don’t want the droppings on the nesting boxes if that’s possible.  One hen likes to sleep in the nest but the others seem to be doing fine on the perch.

It’s HUGE!  And is intended for 4-6 chickens.  We have 4, but as chickens don’t lay steadily for their whole lives, we may need to add to the flock one day.  6 chickens is the most our council allows without a permit.  

Here’s the coop in place – with the run being constructed around it.  Constructing the run was the bigger task I have to say, and if I had any idea how big that would be I probably wouldn’t have asked Dad to make it.  It was a HUGE task.  My Dad rocks. 

There is now chicken wire in place nailed every 8(ish)cm to the roof, sides and bottom.  We also dug a trench 40cm deep and buried wire so any digging is thwarted.  We hope it is Fort Knox.  My husband has been very diligent about their safety, which is brilliant.

 

We bought Isa Brown Hens, and start up supplies from Craig’s Farm.  Craig was fantastic.  Friendly, informative, low key, and on the way home one of the hens laid an egg in the box.  Way to start!

Isa Browns have a great reputation as a backyard hen – friendly, good layers, and not generally broody.  They are supposed to tolerate kids well and enjoy the odd pat. I think they are really pretty too!

And they have settled in well.  We have had eggs every day, and the looking after part is no trouble at all.  We check on them in the morning and give them some scraps from the night before or greens to add to their dry feed.  Zara has been picking them up for regular cuddles and is delighted by the whole experience of feeding and gathering.

As the light starts failing, we go down to tuck them into bed – putting them on their roosts for sleep and close off the entrance with a piece of wood that they just knock out of the way on their way out in the morning.

Oscar – not so much.  He seems to find them terrifying and fascinating in equal measure.  He is total ninja stalker – silent and patient.  I know who would win in that fight…

And the taste of the eggs?    Amazing! 

delicious blur – Part 2

There has been much cooking of unnecessaries – pickling things, making relishes and experimenting.  The kind of thing I have no time for when life is in full swing.  It’s been joyous!

I made pickled turnips with some of our betroot – check out that amazing colouration!

The recipe is very easy – use one betroot to 3 turnips – slice them into big fat juliennes.

Put beetroot in the  bottomof a sterilised jar - add the turnips on top.

In saucepan – add 1.5 cup of white vinegar to 2 cups of water plus 1 tablespoon of salt & sugar.  bring to boil for 1-2 mins.  Pour over contents of jar and seal the jar. 

Leave in a sunny place for 3 days turning the jar over every so often to swish the colour about – it’s amazing how the colour changes!

Then refrigerate.

I could eat these all day – they taste faintly like horseradish – a slight zip to them, but salty and sweet too.  delish!  And fantastic with barbequed chicken – if that’s your thing.

delicious blur – part 1

And just like that the holidays were over.

The cake – with marzipan and before the royal icing.  I liked it best like this…

There was Christmas.  Which we hosted.  I made Fruit Mince pies & a traditional Christmas cake with marzipan and royal icing  (first time ever) to greet the season.  It was mad, hectic, festive & fun.

We escaped.

To Lorne – to the house of my totally fabulous Aunty & Uncle who have been our hosts for 30 years now – in a house on Great Ocean Rd, just over the road from  the beach and 5 minutes walk from The main shopping strip.  Bliss.

On a wall in Lorne – Ghostpatrol?

Lorne has changed a lost since I was a teenager.  And in other ways it hasn’t.  It’s been fascinating over the years to watch the beach change shape – to watch the tourists change shape.  To watch the guests change shape.  To watch the house change shape.  I used to go to Lorne every year when I was younger.  As life got busier & commitments led me elsewhere the visits have grown less frequent.  I miss it.  It was nice to be able to spend some time there this year with my own little ones.

That’s a shrimp!

It was nice to go rockpooling, and watch them play in the surf. 

The coffee was good.  As were the bookshops and Qdos. 

 

Back with part 2 tomorrow.