Wind, Rain & Hail

Despite the wind, rain and hail, the Machinist didn't let me off the hook when it was time to go and work on the grounds at the shop. At one point, the hail came down so hard, it felt like tiny pebbles catapulted at my face. He was relentless and forced me to continue on with spade in hand, like a garden gnome; a fixture of the outdoors.

Just kidding....

About the Machinist forcing me, that is. Truth be known, I love to be out in the wind and rain. I love the way my cheeks go from icy to hot. Even my earlobes resemble embers after working outdoors.

We were pulling down rampant blackberry bushes, which had entwined themselves in the vegetation - planted at the front of the property years ago and extremely overgrown. At one point, a thorn ripped at my ear, and it was only later, when chatting with a neighbourly couple, that I rubbed my ear, and actually pulled the thorn out. They looked at me enquiringly. "Don't worry about me, I'm just doing an Amazon woman thing..." I remarked.

Over the years, a lot of silt has run off the hill behind the shop each time we've had rain, and that, coupled with fallen leaves, tiny twigs, berries and pods has resulted in the most amazing black soil. We separated the 'good' soil from the matted couch grass, which has acted like a spider's web, entangling faded drink cans and broken bottles, as well as oddities such as reflectors, rusty petrol caps and even an odd window wiper. Motoring stuff. The trashy soil and branches were loaded on the trailer, and later in the week, I hope to transfer the good soil to the Grand's garden. It will become the marrow of their future cottage garden.

I am pleasantly tired and somewhat achy, but feel satisfied and accomplished which is a great thing. The rain is still falling gently. I'm grateful for that. After all, it would be really horrid to have to run out to the Machine shop this time of the night and start moving tools and equipment as well as sweeping out generous puddles from insufficient country storm water drains.

Still, I know where my bread is buttered. I love my home. I'm not a nabob, but I sure do live like one....

Happy Birthday to the Machinist!

It was raining fast and hard last night and there is nothing more comforting than the sound of rain on a tin roof.

Not so comforting for the Machinist today, though. Especially on his birthday. This is what he walked into as he entered the workshop:

And so... the Machinist sprang into a plan of action. Here he is talking logistics (ha!) with his son, Sam, our second year apprentice:

I have to confess; it's not all fun all day every day. We were determined, though, to make the Machinist's day a special one, so later, bundling up in the car, we headed to the driving range. Now the Machinist is not a golfer, nor are any of the rest of the family. We have one thought in mind when we go to the driving range; hit the ball as hard and as far as possible. I was the delegated camer(wo)man and before I could post some shots here, Middlepaw, nickname for our middle child, posted them here: http://www.middlepaw.blogspot.com/ .

A later dinner in town and the movies cheered up the Machinist no end.

We love you Machinist!

Waxing Domestic

What happens to all the domestic jobs at home when Metalsmithery and the Daily Pie open?

They still hang about. They wait to be done. They are patient. Well, some are, others not. Sometimes, they dance before us, tauntingly. Sometimes, they scare us when we happen upon them. And some scare us very badly. They're nasty.

I've learned how to be domesticated over the years, and I must confess - I enjoy housework. (Not ironing). But I just cannot live in a frowzy house. I like order. I don't always get what I want, but I like organising and having places for things. I also like to read about how to be better organised and even more domesticated;

Freaky, isn't it?

I've recently redone the chore schedule. It's simple. I get to do it all. Apart from doing the dishes and kitchen after dinner.

Hopefully, this will free up the Young Adults to do physical hard labour at the shop, 'cos there's always something to do. (the lists prove it!).

And at the end of the day, we join Bar-Ram-Ewe and schnuggle on the couch:

Daily Grind

The workshop phone rang.

"It's for you, Doll. It's Danny, the accountant"

Oh drat! My 'bookkeeping' brain wasn't around anywhere. I think I left it under the desk a couple of weeks ago, when I finished the last Business Activity Statement. If the relevent 'brain' isn't on, it's really hard to focus. Still, the Machinist had the telephone in one hand and a heavy grinder in the other. I had to take the call.

The word "accountant" puts fear right to the cockles of the heart. I don't know why. It's like "policeman". There's good and bad in both professions, but they still seem to have this effect on me. I've never been in trouble with either, so I'm still flabbergasted why I should feel this way. Ok, so I have issues and will have to ponder this phenomenon in my spare time.

By the time I went back into the kitchen, the loaves of bread were overflowing their tins, and the oven roaring with anticipation. No sooner were the loaves slid inside, there was a "click" coming from the laundry, which indicates the completion of the washing cycle. Time to peg out the overalls. With four domestic pets in tow (competing for attention, and zig-zagging between my feet, almost legging me over), a heavy wash basket and flies buzzing around my face, I let go with one hand to brush them away, and the load came toppling out. The kitties scarpered for a second; but only a second. Soon they were back, seeking the shade, cast by the washing in the basket.

Note to self: buy more pegs - the coloured ones seem stronger, last longer, as well as set up some type of peg bag, instead of picking the pegs up off the ground, covered in dirt.

Another note to self: Weed! Especially the dandelions. They have massive seed heads, ready for wind distribution. The lillium beds are chock full of dandelions. That bed alone looks like a mini-amazon.

And talking of Amazon...

The Acai berries arrived! Full of goodness. They will be added as a supplement to our menu.

Afternoon administration consisted of writing huge lists for Metalsmithery and the Daily Pie, as well as odd jobs to be carried out on the Grand's Cottage. A general floorplan and coffee counter diagram were added to the rather large jotter - reserved for brainstorming and - well - lists. When the Machinist arrived home from taking a job to the powder coaters, he ventured out into the garden, towards the Workshop. I buzzed him on the intercom:

"Can I show you my list"

"Yeah", he sighed "I'm just locking up"

The Machinist is always willing to see what has to be done, even though he and I don't always want to do what's on the list. Usually, though, his first question is:

"How many pages?"

Mam and Daughter's Day Out

"It's just mam and her only daughter today", mam declared as she wrapped her arm around my shoulders. We were on the main street of Bowral, walking behind a crowd of teenage girls, who were loudly discussing how bored they were and that there was absolutely nothing to do in Bowral. Ever.

I squeezed mam's hand tight as we continued walking. It's always harder to commit to a time and day, than it is to take that time and day and actually do as you intended. I was truly glad that our plan had 'come to pass'. Mam loves the boutique shops as it reminds her of 'ome; England the Brave.

"You don't always have to buy anything, do you Helen? You can still get ideas for many things, just by looking around".

We saw thin, white crockery, vintage soup ladels, basketware, wrought iron, tinware, candles and candle wreaths, baking pans, cookie cutters, French wine glasses, chunky jewellery, silk scarves, foxy handbags and lots of bling. Antiques, old school benches, British porcelain, photos of HRH the Queen in gilt frames, photos of happy couples snogging and hugging in some dreamy European village, bunches of large flowers with long thick stems....

We lunched at a European bakery, then later, had half strength flat whites, apple and rhubarb cake and honey cake - both with clotted cream - served on huge, white plates at the most unusual coffee shop - "The Elephant Boy Cafe" - http://www.elephantboycafes.com/. Dim lighting, cushioned seats, dark wooden bookcases laden with hard covered, sepia paged books ("... and I've nowhere near read them all..." ) added the proprietor as she delivered our afternoon treats to the table.

We discussed family - both here, in England and South Africa and marvelled at its dynamics.

On the way home, we stopped in Berrima and bought locally produced fragrances...

"Would it be ok if we looked for a shop that sells pies before we go, as your dad and I can have them for dinner tonight with the leftover vegetables I cooked last night..."

On the counter of the old General Store, and while the Storekeeper was packing the pies (chicken and asparagus / chicken and mushroom), we spied old fashioned bread and butter pudding, cut equally into large, single chunks sitting temptingly under an ample glass dome.

"You say these bread and butter pudding slices are single serves? That one piece could feed a family of five, I'm sure. Who makes them?"

"I do", said the Storekeeper, smiling.

Mam said nothing, until we were outside, sitting on the courtesy iron and wood tables and chairs, in front of the store and scoffing Heaven ice creams...

"If that man really can cook like that, he'll be really useful at my house."

Metal in the Country

In the 15 years we've lived in the village, this was the second time I'd actually had a coffee at the General Store. Not because I haven't wanted to. On the contrary, I love the idea of morning or afternoon coffee at the local Store. It's just that the Machinist keeps me busy. Really busy.

The Storekeeper took the opportunity to sit outside with me so she could light up a cigarette. The day was warm and bright (not like the weather depicted in this photo of the General Store). Birdsong drowned out any potential audible distractions. Suddenly, the roar of an engine approaching. Customers wanting fuel.

A young Indian chap left the car to pay. The Storekeeper went inside to take his money. I was left alone. Time to think. Great. There's never enough time to think.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a man approaching my table. The very same man I presumed to be the Indian chap's father. I was right. In a broad, Sri-Lankan accent:

"Tell me - do you ever get bored in this place?"

"No, never."

"You don't? I have to confess, I don't think I could live here. It's so quiet. And you don't mind that it is so quiet?"

"We came from South Africa. We've seen many horrible things. We love that it is so peaceful and quiet here"

"But what is there to do?"

I nearly choked on my bubbly cappucino. What is there to do? What is there to do? If only he knew how busy we usually are.....

"Well, I'm usually so very busy with our family business". I didn't sound convincing, because the sun had made me lazy, and I'm sure he could tell by my slow-blinking eyelids, as well as the angle I was sitting on the bench. A relaxed angle.

"You have a business? What, here? In this town?"

"Actually, we have two"

"What do you do?"

For the next ten minutes, I filled the stranger in on what we do and what we propose to do in the future.

"That's very interesting. Do you have a card?"

"Sorry, I don't seem to have one on me" Now who, pray, takes their business cards with them when they go up to the local store for coffee with the Storekeeper?

"No matter. I will look up your company name on the internet. Do I just put in the search engine 'Metal in the country'?"

Developing Garden

I love these photos portraying the early development of our back garden, and thought I would share them with you:

This is a view of the garden from the back deck. The whole garden was weedy grass when we first moved in. Every time it rained, the creek would overflow, flood into our garden and the chickens had to spend weeks on their perches, never to come down for food and eventually pass out - weak - due to hunger.

Not really. The chickens passing out that is.

We carted tons of soil to form a levy bank and also added some soil to the flat area of the garden. To level the surface, the Machinist tied a piece of metal mesh to the bumper of our old Renault car. The children sat on the mesh to add weight, and the Machinist would 'doughnut' around and around, dragging the three siblings. They squealed with glee! "More, dad. More!"

The path leading to the (new) chicken coop, through the arbour. The gate on the right leads to the vegetable garden. It is fenced so that the puppies don't tramp or poo over the vegetation.

The orchard in its early stages. We were still busy building a perrenial border around the base of the orchard floor to create separate garden rooms and to contain the straw.

Part of Fruit Tree Walk (and the base of a Ballerina apple tree) which surrounds the vegetable garden. Beds and paths in the making.

The old vegetable garden. Raised beds were built and framed with old sleepers. This garden became very full very quickly - hence the need for a larger vegetable growing area.

Our first corn bed. I planted far too many seedlings!

Capsicum interplanted with shallots. Corn is getting taller and taller.

I'll have to really contain myself next time....

The Walk to the Workshop

"Mam, will you be trimming the plants anytime soon?" (I'm Head Gardener)

"Why, son?"

"Cos each time I walk to the workshop, I have to screw up my face like this.." he demonstrates; - eyes and lips squeezed together tightly, as if with a smearing of super glue. Shoulders hunched and leaning more to the right - like an off-balance Quasimodo double.. "so that the overgrowth doesn't touch me. Otherwise, the sneezing fits start."

The end in sight - the Workshop side door:

Morning Walkies Around the Village

Paddocks

The Playing Oval

The Recreation Centre entrance - aka the Oval

The Anglican Church

A typical street.

The Catholic Church

The Uniting Church (was the Wesleyan Church)

The Uniting Church Cemetary

Happy puppies Bobby (black dog) and Polly (hiding behind the Machinist)

The General Store

Our Street

The view from our garden.

Revving Up with the Vitality 600

In the sidebar of my blog, I've stated that the Machinist spoils me. I am truly a lucky girl. The Machinist supports me in whatever I want to do, and I never, never, abuse his kindness and generosity. I must confess, - it is seldom that I actually ask for anything, - materialistically - and so the Machinist was most curious and enquiring when I told him of something I would really, really like.

I was quite surprised that the Machinist didn't even batter an eyelid when learning about the product I wanted. Mostly, because what I wanted was actually GYM equipment, and he knows how I despise gyms and any type of contraption used within them. Team sport is a different matter, though:

I love team sport. It has a purpose.

Back to the exercise machine - I could have stated many reasons why I needed it; the heat (I'm English!), the flies (they're slow and sluggish and sit on your nose and lips), the mosquitoes (Bloodtype A), the snakes hiding in the grass and storm water drains at the side of our country roads - we have no pavements (Ophidiophobia) the pollen and grasses (hayfever). All valid reasons to want to "exercise" indoors, at home. But I didn't have to explain any of this.

"Order it", he proclaimed. "Really, I want you to have it".

And so - here is the Machinist's gift to me. The Vitality 600:

The Vitality 600 - for all those Jiggly Bits.

Of which I have many.

Two Monkeys

Granny loves to knit. She especially loves to knit soft toys. Here is the sock monkey she made for me, which now sits proudly between our two couches in the family room. This sock monkey wasn't knitted by Granny, though. She did, however, make it from a pair of Rockford Red Heel Socks, which I ordered from the US quite a few years ago. Just because she knows I love monkeys.



Here is the other monkey I love. This one was made by the Machinist and I.