My gorgeous friend Libby dropped around this afternoon with a care package for me, as I’ve got the flu and been stuck at home for a week. It’s always lovely to see her, but particularly so since I haven’t seen anyone since Monday. We chatted for a while with the window open, me inside the house and Libby on the veranda. It really is the little things that keep the heart happy.
My street has a couple of well-tended gardens and some magnificent plants (remember the pink magnolia I posted a while ago?), but in the main most of us are not up to much. Along my driveway fence, however, the neighbours have been so lovely as to plant a row of wonderful and varied roses. I wandered out to check the mail today and was greeted by this peach beauty, basking in the sunshine. Her perfume is as divine as her colour.
27 minutes of cute and witty kids animation put a smile on face tonight. The little brown mouse, with his back against up against a rock, finds he’s actually quite smart under pressure. Ah, the power of stories to defeat even the grizzliest of enemies! I’m sure this learning will come in handy when dealing with people. You can watch it for free on ABC iview.
I’ve been a voracious reader since I was small. At uni I had a self-imposed ban on novels during term time, otherwise I wouldn’t get my assignments done. When I had a tiny baby who took forever to feed, I started listening to talking books while I sat on the couch for hours. Now I’m stuck in bed with a virus (I’d much rather be stuck in bed with as human) and a talking book is saving my sanity – a biography of Paul Simon.
These are tricky times. Lucky we have music to save us from the madness. If you see me singing as I go about my business it’s because it keeps the anxiety at bay and my feet on the ground. And of course, there’s nothing like a happy song played by wonderful musicians to lift spirits. Here’s Esperanza Spalding playing Sunny Side of the Street for the Obamas.
Kangaroos were a daily feature of growing up in the bush, but they still delight me when I see them. This mob were having a bite to eat as I headed to my parents’ place for dinner tonight. They were keeping a keen eye on me, but weren’t concerned enough to hop off. Beautiful day for a grassy entrée!
It is always a pleasure to play the Melbourne Ukulele Festival. I wondered as I headed down to the city on Friday whether it was a good idea or not, given there’s a nasty little virus high-speed globetrotting right now. I guess I’ll never know the answer to that question, but I am awfully glad I went. I played a lovely set of Leonard Cohen with Pete Daffy, gave a workshop to a room full of delightful and appreciative people, heard some great bands, was billeted with a lovely family, and most importantly, felt the love of the beautiful ukulele world. Thanks for sharing the music and the love! It makes me very happy that the last gig I’ll play for a while was so warm.
I’m not a big beer drinker, but when there isn’t any cider on tap I’m always open to try something new. This was precisely the situation that presented itself today at the Wesley Anne in Northcote. Enter the Citray Sour, like a hopped up lemon juice, it is very refreshing, quite sour, and the perfect beer for when you feel like a cider. Produced by Melbourne based wild ale brewers, La Sirène, the Citray Sour is not the first of their brews to pass my lips and it certainly won’t be the last.
Nigella says to eject the seeds from a pomegranate you just cut it in half and tap it with a wooden spoon. My experience says you have to whack the hell out of it for at least five minutes in order to dislodge a tiny handful. Nevertheless, I am always stopped in my tracks by the fruit hanging on the tree, like a Christmas bauble. The stunning orange globes set against the backdrop of remarkably small leaves.
This one caught my eye in the forecourt of the Northcote Uniting Church as I wandered into a Melbourne Ukulele Festival gig.
The season is a strange one this year on many levels. The tomatoes are late and not very prolific, but the ones I have managed to coax into existence are quite delicious. Sweet, juicy, and zingy, the little red orbs hang like jewels from the dying branches. They shout their tiny victory over the weather in aesthetic defiance.