Garden Bed

PJ's parents are staying with us this weekend, so we used their visit and the onset of sunny weather to have a pre-spring spring clean. We had three mattresses that were rather old and smelly so we cut them up. We used the wool from the futons as mulch along our east boundary

and when we've decided where to put this bed skeleton, we'll grow some kind of vine or cane up through it. Mmmm raspberries, maybe. Breakfast in bed??

Lesbian Woolcraft Show

I went this morning, with some of my knitting group friends, to The Annual Yandoit Lesbian Knitting and Woolcraft Show.

Outside the small hall were some gorgeous alpacas who were there to show off their wool. They were so placid and soft, I thought I might skip the show altogether and just spend the morning patting and cooing.

But when I saw this sign, I knew I had to go inside.

And I'm so pleased I did. I have wanted to knit a cosy for a chair like this, but all in red, for quite a while. Dear Meg Later, I am blogging this image as a reminder for you to do it.

I felt like a bit of a cheat, not being a lesbian and not knowing how to knit, but when I saw this knitting nancy, which is all I know how to do, I felt a lot better about being there.

My favourite craft of the day, and the item that received my Best in Show vote, was the Goodnight Darling banner above the kitchen. You can't really see from this photo, but each letter has been hand-sewn onto a rectangle cut out of a blanket and then pegged onto a string-line.

The tea and cake I bought from under it got my vote too.

Self-Portrait With Squirrel

From Abroath:

Melissa Brandts and her husband were exploring Lake Minnewanka in Banff National Park, Canada, when they stopped to take a timed photograph of themselves.

They had their camera set up on some rocks and were getting ready to take the picture when this curious little ground squirrel appeared, became intrigued with the sound of the focusing camera and popped right into the shot.

Rubbed Out

I have a lot of red things - found, bought, stolen, gleaned, acquired, gathered. For some reason, I am avoiding the word collected. Collected to me involves some kind of purpose - one does it actively. I collect my chickens' eggs, I collect Z from school and I am collecting stepmothers to interview.

I used to collect rubbers. I still have them, in a bag in a carton in a box. Since I stopped collecting them I must have opened the box, the carton and the bag maybe half a dozen times.

I picked my niece Indigo up from school yesterday. She has just started collecting rubbers. All day I had the Ghostbusters feeling that I was going to blow her mind with my collection. I couldn't wait!

But when I had finally emptied the bag onto the table where she and Z sat, instead of bits of wowed brains splattered everywhere, there were just two underwhelmed kids, and me, the very very grown up, grown up.

Rednesday: Pot

Two Hours Late

From here.

Ghostbusters

This is one of the postcards on PostSecret this week.

I was eleven years old when Ghostbusters first came out in Australia. It was one of the first movies I can remember reading about and counting down the days till its release.

I remember coming home from school camp to learn that my mum had taken my sisters to see it without me. I was devastated. She told me she enjoyed the film so much she was happy to see it again.

I remember sitting beside her in the theatre as the lights were going down, my legs sweaty on the big vinyl seat. I was so overwhelmingly excited, I can still remember what I was thinking:

I. Am. Just. About. To. See. Ghostbusters.

I still have those enormous rushes of excitement. They have nothing to do with the film, but precede occasions that I am looking forward to enormously. My Ghostbuster moments.

Our Own Drum

In Real Life

When I sat down to blog yesterday, I hadn't intended to write about Pookie and winter, I had wanted to write about the first time I read the book to Z. It was his bedtime and we were snuggled up together while I read him the story about all the woodland animals and Pookie the rabbit who told winter to go away and then come back again.

Even though I was brought up Jewish, I am OK that Z still believes in Santa. "But Santa goes over land to every house – reindeer can't fly!" He recently assured me.

The first time I read him the tale of Pookie, he asked me if the story happened in real life. It amazed me that Z is 7 and thought that a story about talking animals could be true. I guess if he straight out asked me if Santa is real, I would say no, but he has never asked me. Which is why I told him the truth when he asked me about Pookie and his friends.

As soon as I'd said no, I didn't regret it, though I did feel as though I had taken something pure and oh so lovely from him, that he'll never be able to have back.

Pookie

Z loves this book. It was a gift from our friend Vivienne who had it when she was a girl.

Pookie is a little white rabbit who, after a nasty storm, tells Winter to go away and never come back. But then, when Winter shows no sign of returning, and Autumn is followed by Spring, "the Woodland Folk realised what trouble they were in."

"Who will wash away all last year's old leaves and rubbish?" they asked each other anxiously. "Who will spread a blanket of snow so that we can sleep snugly underneath in our cosy homes? We cannot manage with just Spring, Summer, Autumn... and then Spring again! Flowers cannot get ready to flower again without a rest during the Winter! Hedgehogs and Dormice and Squirrels and lots of other Animals must have their winter sleep!"

I used to be like that. If Winter wasn't going to go away, I would fantasise about migrating to some place tropical for a few months. But now that our plum tree is starting to bud and the time we have to lock the chooks up is getting later and later each night, I am sad that Winter is leaving, and that the bushfire season will be upon us so soon.

In this illustration Pookie is asking Winter to please come back to the woodlands, because the animals have realised that they need him. I don't know that I would go so far as to ask Winter to stay longer, but I am surely going to miss him when he leaves.