Our Sister Chickens

PJ and I were in our local paper this week, talking about our solar panels. This is the photo they included, of me holding our chicken Bridezilla in one hand and a shovel in the other; photovoltaic panels above, a pile of mulch below.

Z calls my sister Kate's three daughters his sister cousins, and the hens they gave us from their brood, the sister chickens.

Hanging out in the garden with our chickens today, it suddenly dawned on me that by golly, our chickens really are our sisters. They are alive at the same time on Earth as us, they are living within the same environment as us, but much more significantly, didn't we all evolve from the same primordial soup?

A Pile of Shit

There's a horse riding ranch two minutes away, where I used to go riding as a kid, and where Z had his birthday party a few years back. PJ and I drove out there first thing this morning.

'Is it OK if we collect some of your poo?' I asked one of the owners when we arrived.

'You can't collect mine, but you can collect the horses',' he told me, straight-faced.

And so we got to shovellin'. It was cold out and the shit was hot and steaming, and filled with worms our chickens dined on each of the three times we returned home with a car-load.

I've never been a red roses kinda gal and I've never been one for posed photos in a nice frame up on the mantle from holidays gone by. But I would never have described shovelling shit as a romantic pastime until today either.

But boy was it! The cool air, the steaming dung, no-one in the field except my beloved and I, working hard side-by-side to move the fecund waste so it can turn our clay earth into rich soil to grow good food for our family.

Dinner and movie? Chocolates in the shape of a heart? Give me a shovel, my man and a pile of shit any day.

The Honey

This is our honey jar. Every Sunday morning we take it to the local market and have it filled with a local Yellow Box honey.

This is Des. He sells us our honey every week. The honey is made by the bees he keeps.

Tonight we had some friends over for a Jewish New Year feast. For those of you who don't know, traditionally during Jewish New Year you are supposed to eat apple dipped in honey to symbolise a healthy and a sweet new year. That's what we did at the end of our meal tonight.

I hope you have a great new year too, whether you are celebrating a new beginning, a new ending, or a new bit in the middle that is sandwiched between what you know and what's still to be discovered.

The Little Roman

Most of the local primary schools in this district teach their students Italian. To celebrate, yesterday was declared Roman Day; a whole day of activities dedicated to all the wonders of ancient Rome.

Here is Z, calling out buongiorno yesterday morning, in his homemade get-up.

Rednesday: 3 Thank Yous

Kate, thank you for my handmade washer that was christened by Z in the bath after a day of outdoor play.

Eddy, thank you for my hand-sewn text message that I biked up to the post office to collect.

And thank you Clare, for this bread bin that we are going to sit out on the deck and plant with herbs.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Bird Head

It's interesting to notice as we age, what we become desensitised to and what we don't.

I'm 35 and it still makes me laugh when I see a statue with a bird on its head. For some reason I keep waiting to outgrow this. I wonder if I will.

Fancy Nancies

This is my everyday, Knitting Nancy. She and I have been going steady since she was handmade by a friend's dad and given to me in 2003.

Then about two months ago I was kindly given these Fancy Nancies by another friend's sister. At first I had no idea what to do. I thought they all had to be used at the same time. I seriously had no idea how to even begin. It's true I could have googled or asked around some seasoned crafty types, but I never quite got around to it.

Then when my friend Vivienne very generously gave me her red case of knitting goodies, inspiration struck. Ta da!

I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do with it. Maybe a snood, maybe a skirt. My knitting group is coming here tonight and I look forward to talking through my ideas with them. I'll let you know what they say.

The Best Thing

This is our friend Jeff. I have blogged about him before and he has blogged for us before. One of the best part of our Sundays is seeing him at our local market and buying a loaf of Redbeard organic sourdough from him, as we did this morning. Buying bread is always a special occasion.

And so is eating it. Which is why, when something really terrific happens, PJ often says: "That's the best thing since the return to unsliced bread."

Fig.173

From here.

The World's Best Worst

Cricket, swimming, tennis, music, fashion, design. Whatever activity your country can do, Australia can do it better. I wouldn't call it nationalism, but the flexing of our toned competitive muscles.

And so it was really no surprise to read this morning that Australia has the world's highest per capita carbon dioxide emissions from energy use.

Go Aussies, go!

You think your country likes burning coal and filling the atmosphere with carbon dioxide? Get in line!

On the CO2 Energy Emissions Index, Canada has come in third, while Australia has overtaken the US - responsible for 19.78 tonnes per head - as the worst per capita emitter.

The risk assessment company who conducted the study found Australia's overwhelmingly coal-based electricity supply meant the average person emitted 20.58 tonnes of carbon dioxide a year.

20.58 tonnes baby!!

Plastic bags? We love them! Water bottled in plastic and transported in big trucks around the country? Oh yeah! Solar panels and wind turbines? For losers!

A spokeswoman for our Climate Change Minister Penny Wong said:

"As one of the hottest and driest continents on earth, Australia will be among the hardest and fastest-hit by climate change if we don't act now."

But why would we bother to act at all? Global warming and peak oil? bring it on! Environmentalism and eco-consciousness is for sissies.