a basket full of happiness

"May young minds and hearts here find:
bodily strength for work,
inwardness of soul,
and clarity of spirit."

A basket full of Sunday supplies: lunch, mug, tea, scarf, cardy, scissors, pen and paper. And Bernard Fanning's Tea & Sympathy cd. I was all kitted out and ready for something interesting.
Interesting I found...

near the bush surrounds of Manly dam at a Cordage and Basketry workshop. O warm and pleasant Sunday! I spent the day learning how to weave a cord from natural fibres, raffia to begin with. Would you have imagined cordage to be meditative and a treat for pondering? Well, I did - and I wasn't disappointed.

Next time you have a question that needs an answer, you'd do well to try bringing it to the fibres. First, come to the fibres with a question. Select 2 fibres. Close your eyes and begin the meditation while your fingers start a'twistin'. Twist and walk. Walk and twist. [ask me for more on the meditation sequence we used if you're keen] See what comes to you. And when the meditation is done and dusted, stop your handwork, tie a knot in the cord and there you have it: the healing cord. And maybe, just maybe, the answer you needed.

For the afternoon, we moved on to basket weaving. Creating with jute. Nothing but jute! O how small delights inspire and calm and excite me all at once.

The weaver leading our day was a beautiful man named Lee who had spent many years studying the way of earth-living, living with and from the earth. He was warm of spirit and very generous with his knowledge and time. And he sounded just like my friend Jules when he spoke, which I found just a tad amusing because I've never heard Jules speaking of the plant grandfathers and grandmothers. But, you never know.

Just look at all that woven magic. It takes many hours to create a collection like this. Weaving is rather time consuming. Of course. All beautiful things are.

Sydney winter loving.

Friday afternoon pie and rugby session.

Charlie leaping for joy. God bless Sydney winters.

A little bit of my energy, ready to leave my home and bless 2 fresh little hearts.

My favourite boots. They would only be more perfect if I'd made them myself.

not enough fishin'

How many fishing rods must one possess before it can be said that there are too many fishing rods, and not enough fishin'?

Let me see... there's one ancient, dust covered rod in the laundry. There's another one behind the wine rack in the dining room. There's a broken fishing rod in pieces in our bedroom. There's a fly fishing rod under the bed, a spare fly rod case next to the wardrobe. Keeping that company is the ocean fishing rod, a child's size rod, and perhaps one more, for good luck.

Me thinks that equals 7 rods, and one spare fishing rod case, and I think there may be more in his car. But I can't remember the last time the Zimbabwean went fishing!! Well, he might go fishing tomorrow, but I don't think that counts.

Now really, you don't see me harry-hoarding like that, do you? Hmmm... I guess I do have more than one pair of delicious boots: there's the black boots, brown boots, work boots, yellow gum boots, pink converse boots (nah, they don't count), hiking boots, and most-perfect-new boots. I need all of them.

Tea tins? Um, well I need a few more of those actually. No really, I do. I think you know how much I love my tea (and tins).

Stashes of fabric for a rainy day?

You know, what's a few fishing rods between loved ones? He might go fishing tomorrow.

the good life

So many things to celebrate today!

...the winter sunshine, the freeing of my feet, a walk up to North Head, a new baby boy in our midst (big warm kiss on the head for the leetle one, Gav and Louise), and... a new follower and... my first blog comment!

Mucho loveo, blog followers. May you feel warmly welcomed!

Trit-trotting around the big smoke

I've just enjoyed a rare opportunity to be in the city for 2 consecutive days, pondering the art of thinking well. That is, wellness thinking. As opposed to illness thinking. What a treat... to be learning more about one of my strengths whilst being off duty, "alone", unattached, set free! I went to the toilet many times, just because I could.

As I walked down Hunter St, Sydney, by night, I was presented with another thing to ponder: splattered all over the footpath of the dark, mostly empty city street, like raindrops would splatter on a windscreen, were hundreds of blobs of chewing gum. Smooth and flattened. Dark and disgusting. Giving off a little distasteful shimmer in the city night lights.

Why?? Where do they come from? Really... are that many people chewing gum, and spitting it out onto the ground, as they walk the streets? What am I missing? Why don't I chew gum?

Luckily, there were significantly less splatterings as I turned into Pitt Street. This allowed my mind to turn to the fit of my new jeans. Despite their great colour and good shape these jeans have bothered me slightly because they're one size bigger than the last pair (this must mean that jean makers everywhere are making them smaller. This is the only logical explanation). But O - my - god... these jeans feel great! So they surely look great, oder?

You know, it's like a young Texan once said, in the dodgy corridor of a cheap hotel in Florence, Italy, when I was only 18:

"Slim, if the pants don't fit, buy a bigger pair."

Musings from the kitchen sink

I'd like to share this great recipe for Chicken and Mushroom Pie... With my one blog follower. Yes Lenka, John assures me that you are the only person who reads my blog. I know there are more of you out there. He's deluded. We all know that.

So... you (all of you) will need:
550g chicken thigh fillets, trimmed and chopped
1/3 cup wholemeal flour
70g butter (or olive oil, whatever)
1 medium onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, crushed
275g button mushroooms, halved (or any mushies. I'm not fussy)
1 cup chicken stock
1/4 cup sage leaves and rosemary, finely chopped
sea salt
2-3 sheets ready-rolled puff pastry
1 egg, lightly beaten (or rice milk)

Method:

• preheat oven to 200 degrees C.
• toss the chopped chicken with the flour and it is coated.
• melt half butter in large frying pan and brown chicken well. Remove and set aside.
• melt remaining butter in same pan, add onion and garlic and cook over low-medium heat until the onion is soft. Add mushies and continue cooking until mushies are slightly cooked.
• add the stock and stir until the mixture boils. Return the chicken to the pan, add sage and rosemary and salt to taste, stir with love, then turn the heat down and simmer for 5-10 mins or until mixture thickens. Remove from heat and allow to cool. (I never really wait that long)
  
• grease a large deep pie dish (roughly 20-25cm). Trim the pastry to fit the pie dish. Spoon the chicken mixture into the pie dish and brush the edge of the pastry with egg. Lay another piece of pastry over the top and press the edges firmly together.
• Trim the pastry and make a couple of small cuts in the top for the steam to escape. Let the kids brush the top of the pie with more egg and decorate with pastry shapes if their leetle hearts so desire.
• Place in oven for about 30 mins, or until thet pastry is golden brown and the filling cooked through. If the pie is to be given away, cook until pastry is lightly browned so that pie can be re-heated in an oven without burning the pastry.
• Serve with mashed potato, carrots, beans etc. (serves 6)
  

This recipe comes from the Kamaroi 2009 cookbook, Recipes with Heart and Soul, and really is the bees' bloody knees of chicken pies.

Things got quite hectic in my kitchen...

And here's what the boykies were doing while I was cooking up a storm...

A tad ambitious for a monday night's dinner when I commenced cooking at 5pm?? Perhaps. Let's just say I'm not always as sensible as I look. (!) It was really delicious though.

a sunny Sydney day...

Could winter in Sydney be more glorious? I certainly think not.

O the warmth and delight of a bushwalk on the edge of Sydney harbour on a Friday. Three friends and their collective six children plus one little friend: clambering over rocks, splashing on the harbour's edge. On that particular day last week (the day after the not very blue star day, and actually again today - another winter Friday with nuddy-buddies on the edge of Middle Harbour) we really did feel like very lucky ones. In Lucas's words... "this is the life!"

Fridays with Layney and Lenks have been a long-time delight of mine actually. Never more so than when Layney has just returned from Boston, all of the kiddles get along relatively well and there are no major Mama tantrums (apart from a minor blood boiling moment when I found yet another steak knife in Noah's bag. O yes. I'm still not quite sure what's going on with that). And let's not forget the rare lack of composure, small shriek and jumping up and down on Lenka's part, thanks to a swooping kookaburra who stole her lunch. That was gold.

Our bush walk ended back at Lenka's with just enough time for a quick hip hop disco moment before the day was over. Which reminds me... does anyone have a spare disco ball that I could borrow? Spring-child birthday preparations are getting underway and the boy's requesting a "yo yo hip hop No no" birthday party. Hey... wasn't this the year that he wasn't having a birthday party? Indeed. But I've succumbed to the endless birthday ponderings of a nearly-6-year-old. I may even be so kind as to grant his wish since he was 4... to dye his hair black for the launch of his band, when he turns 6. I admire that boy's determination and persistence.

And just so the Chooch isn't left out, Charlie's quote of the week is: "If you do a wee in Ginger's box, your Mama will be very very angwy." [Ginger being the family white fluffy cat.] [He's right of course. She will indeed.]