2 September, 2012
La primavera has been teasing us in this part of the world during the last few weeks – a twenty degree day here, a thirteen degree day the next; will she? won’t she? But now with September here, there is no denying that the unmistakeable ‘giddy-up’ of spring is in the air.
I even snuck in a bit of study al fresco today.
6 May, 2012
For a summer fruit, they’re doing very nicely – despite the crisp autumnal Canberra chill.
22 April, 2012
I am an indifferent gardener at best – due to lack of time, I like to claim. But, having inherited a number of plants (potted, on a balcony) from my landlord, I have been dutifully watering these every few days. A couple I have saved from the brink – especially after holidays such as Christmas and Easter when I was away. A couple of others have not been so lucky.
One plant in particular – green felt like leaves, spindly stalks; really nothing to look at – was close to expiring until I began watering it religiously, determined not to have another living thing die on me.
I went to water it yesterday morning and imagine my surprise when I found this unlovely thing had spawned a strawberry! Two actually (one was hiding in a shelf nook).
26 January, 2012
For happiness, how little suffices for happiness!… the least thing precisely, the gentlest thing, the lightest thing, a lizard’s rustling, a breath, a wisk, an eye glance-little maketh up the best happiness. Be still.
~Friedriche Nietzsche, Thus Spake Zarathustra: A Book for All and None
Things haven’t slowed down for me yet but here are a few shots from my summer break.
6 August, 2011
A couple of unexpected 21 degree days… Such a relief to slough off one’s coat after a chill, numbing winter. The days are getting longer and there’s a tang in the air, the unmistakeable sense of the reawakening of all green things. And in the depths of one’s being, vague, anticpatory stirrings… of short sleeves, languid days, al fresco meals and the burbling, verdant, vibrancy of life.
14 March, 2011
A sombre weekend in light of the horrible events unfolding in Japan and the continuing tragedy in Libya.
I headed down to Melbourne to catch my beloved Belle and Sebastian. Stuart Murdoch et al provided a night of toe-tapping, cardigan-ed, sweater-ey fun. Well, sans cardigans and sweaters, actually, because it was a stinkin’ hot Melbourne night.
I’ve been listening a lot to Scottish band Frightened Rabbit of late. Their creed: Keeping pop music alive by getting it out of that dress and into a sweater. Admirable sentiments indeed from a band who no doubt own a wardrobe full of comfy knitwear.
So give me soft, soft static
We won’t need no electricity
If we both get old fashioned
We won’t have to rely on our memories
And for the rest of the weekend, hung about the inner city, enjoying the surprisingly warm and well-missed summer weather. And wondering how daily life can carry on in this little corner of the world even as other parts of the globe face disaster.
Thoughts and prayers to the people of Japan.
5 October, 2010
I’ve realised that my last few posts have centered around flowers. Which was not artful, or purposeful or any kind of ‘-ful’, really. It’s just that lately, I’ve been quite bedazzled by all manner of spring gorgeousness (gorgeousities?) unfurling in our garden. The latest surprise – a hitherto lush green hedge has suddenly sprouted delicate white blossoms and is perfuming the little path to our front door wonderfully.
2 October, 2010
I had thought the sakura in our back garden was looking damn fine. But no. In the last couple of weeks, the tree in our front garden has exploded into pure, breathtaking, utter, pink gorgeousness, much to the delight of the bees (and the birds). It’s a spectacular way to begin the morning walk to work and a wonderful sight when you return in the evening.
23 September, 2010
Floriade is a garden event that happens every spring in Canberra. Fabulous, I thought, it’ll be like the Chelsea Garden Show! A myriad of garden designers and landscape artists competing to take the prize for most fabulously sustainable living breathing gorgeous creation possible within a 10x8m plot!
But no. There are lots of entertainers doing shows, and ferris wheels, and lots of food and free wine tasting, and a petting zoo, and umbrellas in trees full of sleeping fruit bats. And even a big fat kookaburra watching proceedings. But there was no garden competition. Just beds and beds of wonderful tulips, and pansies, and other flora whose names I am unfamiliar with; scarlets and lavendars and dusky purples and bright gorgeous fuschias.
We took a picnic of marinated anchovies, marinated artichoke hearts, wafer thin slices of proscuitto, pitted kalamata olives, green olive ciabatta, crackers, comte cheese, old telegraph (a ridiculously pungent (and yummy) melting brie), some crumbly, nutty merseyside and a tasty bottle of reisen and whiled away the bright, sunny, warm afternoon. And after a studied bout of wine tasting, finished off our time at Floriade with a coffee and a beautiful lemon tart.