Hello China

Hello to my first viewer in China!

What is the correct term for blog viewer? Lurker? Reader? Who can tell. There's always the (good) chance someone has stumbled across a blog whilst looking for something else, had a quick squizzy, then fluttered away. So, viewer in China, if you stayed a while, hello. You are most welcome here.

There are big things brewing on this here island. Big, exciting things. I'll share them with you if they come to fruition. In the meantime, the rumblings and brewings are distracting me from my day's work. I can't hear myself think, and it's not due to those little boys of mine chasing each other at high volume, although that is definitely still happening. 

At least a year ago, I'm sure I said that I would one day share a bit about boating at night. As you know, I'm still fairly new to boating. I've been an 'islander' for under 2 years and prior to that I hadn't driven (sailed?) a boat. Last night I'd requested that the boat be left for me rather than taken home by the Zimbabwean. It's not left for me very often. He's very fond of his boat, that Zimbo. Anyway, it was a rare night... a night when I would be home after the last ferry, so either he needed to come out to pick me up, or I could have the boat for the evening. 

Another unusual happening: there was a passenger in my boat who desired to be dropped off at a wharf on the south-western side of our island. So I had an unusual route to follow, on my unusual way home, which allowed me to really make the most of the boating at night experience. Once I'd delivered my passenger, it was just me and that vast, dark space. 

I love boating alone, when I can go as fast or as slow as I desire. It feels brave, and adventurous, and free. It's not really though. Really, I am just coming home, and it usually takes less than 10 minutes. Still, there is rarely anyone else near me on the water, and if another boat is seen it is anonymous. The darkness blankets the faces in the other boat so I don't notice if it was someone I know. Very different to boating in the sunshine... when you might spend as much time waving at familiar boats as you do looking ahead.

The blanket of darkness can feel lonely or lovely, depending on my mood and how I've perceived my day. Yesterday was a good day. I was tired but light - happy with a good grade on my most recent philosophy essay. The evening was beautiful. Shimmering water. There were stars above me, a glowing moon above the hilly landscape, wispy-wide clouds. The air was clear and very very crisp (it is nearly winter). The watery stillness, which is never really still, becomes exquisite once the sound of the engine goes and the boat has been tied up for the night. Then I have just a short walk up a dirt road to our home. No street lights. Glowing windows coming from our house, if I'm lucky. Sounds of the bush at night.

Many people look at me sideways when I say that I live here. They ask what there is to like about it. Some even give a little shudder and a shake of the head. 

My heart sings when I cross those waters, under sun or stars. 

A better photographer than me would have a magical picture to share with you, but you'll need to use your imagination. It looks something like this...

Time to smile

Life is a struggle for my child. Not in any physical sense of the word 'struggle'. He can run, skid, jump, swim. He reads well, he understands mathematical concepts. He even has fairly good intuition when it comes to observing people and certain situations. 

But he carries a cloud around with him, sitting somewhere near his heart. Sometimes he hides behind it. Sometimes he's engulfed by it. Sometimes I think maybe he even forgets it's there. Most of the time he just brings it with him, like a trusted blanket.

I'm not fond of the cloud. I never have been. I find it difficult to live with, at best. Other times I find it utterly annoying. Most of the time it's this irritation that gets up my nose and under my skin. Sometimes, on days like today, his cloud makes it difficult for me to find his light. And then I can't find mine either. The irritation becomes words leaving my mouth, trying to get a reaction from him. Not kind, loving mama words. My brain switches off, my heart sinks within the depths of me and only the stinging of his latest gripe is present. Each word that comes from me only thickens his cloud, makes it a bit darker, reminds him that he needs it - to carry it around, like a trusted blanket.

So, what lifts his cloud? 

Two things lift his cloud. Being around water certainly thins it. Cleansing, dynamic, powerful and gentle water. Lucky for him, he's learning to be Boat Boy. The only other thing that has lifted his cloud is homoeopathic medicine. Our family homoeopath, Peter Tumminello, has understood him from their first meeting, and his remedies have profoundly influenced me and the boy with the cloud, more than once. I kiss the ground Peter walks on, and feel deep gratitude for his commitment to his work.

I have 8 hours to soften my hard edges. Hmmmm, what shall I do with them? Let the tears escape down the hill to the water. Fill my cup up with some Xavier Rudd. Take a walk with my dog in the sunshine. Apply my mind to an online lecture or two, a bit of work on an assignment, some readings on Liberalism and Justice. Hang clothes to dry in the sun. Meditate. Chant. Bake.

Be brave mama, life is joyous.

Post Script: Life did not turn out to be quite so joyous today afterall. After our rocky start to the morning, I heard from a friend that a 2 year old boy had drowned in a back yard pool in Armidale NSW, next to my friend's parents' house. My friend's Dad had found the little boy and pulled him from the pool. He didn't survive the night.

The pool was in a backyard that wasn't fenced. Apparently neighbours had been fighting with the pool owners to fence the pool - which is the law in this country, well, in NSW at least. All backyard swimming pools must be fenced with child-proof gates. Who was enforcing that law in that particular backyard? Liberalism and Justice indeed.

My heart goes out to those parents who have lost their child. It wasn't their swimming pool. They live 2 houses away from the backyard in question. Community carelessness with the highest cost.

May day may day

Philosophy essays and Academic Cultures group assignments have been using up all of my spare time. However, this morning I found a spare 30 seconds, so of course I decided to try out the Polish Plum Cake recipe I've had sitting on my kitchen bench for 4 weeks. But I didn't have any plums, so it's a Polish Boysenberry cake... which looks delicious. If it goes well, I'll share the recipe next time I pop in.

I was recently tapping away at my iMac (are you listening Apple? I already give you free plugs... what will you do for me?), burning wood in the head (that means: thinking very very hard!), when I heard cries for help coming over the side fence. O dear... one of the chookies (I think it was Sugarplum) was not looking good. She was crouching and panting and looking very faint (you'll have to imagine that look on a chook - it's more of an essence/vibrational thing. Perhaps if you have chooks, you'll get it) and my next door neighbour was needing some moral support to cope with the act which we deemed necessary. On went the rubber gloves, out came a bowl of oil, upside-down went the chook. I tried to be gentle... really, I did. But somewhere between being held upside down and my finger being inserted into her egg-exit, the chook did expire. 

Poor lady. I tell you, if I'm ever in a lot of pain, crouching and feeling faint and looking poorly, and someone shoves their finger up my backside, I too will expire. So you can imagine, I was very sympathetic. The thought of it makes me feel a bit queasy.

That brings our chook count down to 7: Rhodey, Bluey, Chalkey, Banana, Ruby Tuesday, Crayon, and Fido.

I'm not always as delicate as I look though(!). I brushed myself off, removed the rubber gloves, retreated to my honey-coloured kitchen and made myself a cup o' tea. And then got back to the essay at hand. 

The may day proceeded - with a flat tyre and a child falling into the water on the way home. Wet child was not as drastic as it sounds... between the ferry and home he willfully played on the beach and kind of accidentally/deliberately got very wet. Perhaps if you have children, you'll get that. And as for the flat tyre, well that really is a lovely way to get to know your locals. There is a certain kind of man who can't walk passed a woman with 2 children, a car which has been unloaded onto the side of the road, and a flat tyre. He just can't. And I find that helpful spirit very endearing.

I'm enjoying May. Sunny, crisp, clear, chilly May.

Autumn randoms

A little Autumn visual diary...

Why do I love hooks? If somebody would let me (I won't mention any names) I would happily add hooks to the walls and doors of every single room in our house.

Hooks on my favourite piece of furniture are pleasing me no end, and have made said piece even more perfect.

 

 "Introspection": my lovely friend Gillian thinks this is just the tea towel for a girl studying philosophy. So do I. 

 Island kids on a grey Sunday afternoon.

 Do you like my new herbal medicine dispensary cabinet? I think we were meant to be together.

 the sick little dog. Our beloved Banjo has a sensitive stomach. Unfortunately, that doesn't stop him from digging through other people's rubbish or eating dead fish. Sometimes he needs some extra looking after.

 the Coconut husk and felt Haus-schuhe. The bee's knees of indoor wear this winter.

 an inviting cafe entry... as if the smells, young male waiters with exceptionally friendly service, and the view weren't enough!

Kids peering north. After taking this photo we took a bit more notice of those looming dark clouds. We scaddled down the headland and still managed to fit in a quick Autumn swim before being blown home.

Where's the love Y'all?

My eight year old No-no has been dancing around the house to the Black Eyed Peas. For a kid who, supposedly, has minimal exposure to electronic devices, that boy sure can work an iPod (and an iPhone).

Next time you need to make a big batch of muffins (some for your family, some for your favourite family of 9 and some for another family favourite with a brand new cherub - making them 6!), I would suggest that you follow this... my muesli muffin recipe. It is dubious to ever claim a recipe as your own however, I don't remember where this came from originally. I've changed it so much that I think I can safely say "my" muesli muffin recipe.

Using two very large mixing bowls, chuck in to each one:
1 cup rye flour
1/3 cup coconut flour
1/3 cup tapioca flour
1/3 potato flour
(if you don't happen to keep 7 different flours in your pantry [why don't you?], you can just use plain flour. Try to at least make it wholemeal plain flour!)
2/3 cup sugar
1/2 tsp salt
4 tsp ground cinnamon

Add to bowl one:
1 cup rolled oats
1 cored, peeled and chopped apple
1/2 cup sultanas
1/2 cup sunflower seeds - chopped in food processor
1/2 cup pepitas - chopped in food processor
1 grated zucchini
1/2 cup choc chips
1 cup frozen berries

To the second bowl, add:
1 cup rolled barley
1 cored, peeled and chopped apple
1/2 cup raisins
1/2 cup sunflower seeds - chopped in food processor
1/2 cup pepitas - chopped in food processor
2 grated carrots
1 cup frozen berries

Then, in a separate smaller bowl, combine :
2/3 cup olive oil
1 cup soy milk
4 tsp vanilla
2 eggs - lightly beaten.
Add this liquid mixture to one of your muesli mixes above. Mix with a fork until all ingredients are just combined. Spoon into muffin trays (this makes 12 normal sized muffins plus 24 small muffins).
Bake at 190 degrees C for 25 - 30 mins.

When those are done, add the same liquid combo (olive oil, soy milk, vanilla essence, eggs) to the second large bowl, and follow the same instructions. Unless you have a mammoth-sized oven and many many muffin trays... then go for your life: mix them all up and spoon them out to bake all at the same time.

These muffins freeze well in small batches, to use in lunch boxes. But you know, really, they are best eaten when still warm from the oven, while dancing to the Black Eyed Peas in the kitchen.

Where's the love y'all?

A noisy brushy

Thanks to my friend and neighbour Betsi, an island mystery has been solved.

For 18 months we've been trying to figure out just what is making that very strange noise outside our house late at night. We hear it nearly every night when all else is quiet, usually after 11pm. Sometimes it's coming from out the back, near the front door, or under the floor of the Zimbabwean's study.

I think it sounds like a small body scraping on gravel stones. So I thought it may have been a snake sliding around. Then I thought it was a bit of a hiss. So I googled 'blue tongue lizard sound' and thought that may have been it, but wasn't convinced. Maybe it was a door hinge, opening and closing at odd locations around the house. Hmmm, what else could it be?

We see a few possies: on the top deck, walking along the railings, in the chook yard at night, in the eucalyptus trees out the front, or in the mulberry tree. They are usually brushtail possums and are very cute and look well-fed. I certainly didn't know that possums made this noise!

We also hear this one. And then usually see a little head peep over a door, looking for his or her mama, who is probably out looking for food.

Problem solved.

darkness awaits

In small cracks and crevices, darkness awaits.
Behind opague clouds, in the shadows of Autumn, darkness awaits.
O rest assured, I do revel in it. I know it sometimes will come and that is the way it should be.

On this chilly afternoon, darkness has arrived. I have received the sweet phone call delivering bitter news. I hear it and accept it peaceably, surrendering with dignity. It is as it should be.

And now I wallow in the moment of it. I dig out my favourite dark melodies...
The Smiths What difference does it make; and Stop me if you've heard this one before... that's a goodie.
The Cure Fascination Street. O that one is thorough and good. Really. It hits the nail on the head.
the Beastie Boys - that's a bit of naughty fun when the kids aren't listening,
Ani di Franco Untouchable face - so is that,
Sinead O'Connor You cause as much sorrow
U2 So Cruel.

Of course these dark tunes are not holding a message of truth. I don't feel animosity or resentment or any bitterness to the bearers of my disappointing news. I'm simply disappointed for myself. I allow myself to be. I was aiming high, but this time I didn't quite reach. I will in the future though.

So when I've had my time of wallowing moments, I will again fill up my cup. That's when the rejuvenating sounds will fill my home and infuse my soul with love and wellbeing, just in time for my boykaloiks to return home after a day of (hopefully) fun activity.

All is as it should be. All experiences shall be honoured for what they bring to us.