There are some things about our world that probably sound so foreign to some people, like the fact that we have a mob of about 50 kangaroos that live on our property and most of the time don't bother us, but sometimes tear the nets in the orchards and eat all the apples. I'm sure there are koalas here too, although I've only ever seen one.

And lots of things I do feel terribly ordinary, like looking at my phone too much, trying to problem-solve for my kids a lot, and boring old housework (only ever the minimum I can get away with though).

I don't actually know what this is all about. My head's a bit cloudy today. I guess what Bren said, plus the messages you guys send me often telling me how different my world is to yours, reminds me to notice the special bits, encourages me to remember the choices we've made, and allows me to see the beauty.

I think that's enough words for today. I'll let the pictures tell the story.


















I'd love you to tell me a bit about how your world differs from mine, or from those around you. It doesn't need to be big, just anything really.

Wishing you a happy International Women's Day!

And a fabulous weekend.

See you next week.

Love, Kate x

Hello lovelies,

Last week as my mum sat on my chair and edited my commas, and tenses, and hyphens, she told me that she always wants to delete the part of my blog where I discuss the writing of the blog. She thinks it's a means to getting into the writing of the blog but unnecessary to the actual blog itself. So with that in mind I'm not going to start with a discussion about my process, instead I'm going to start somewhere else entirely.

I'm going to start with the word empty.

For our past few gym sessions, we've made a point of sitting down at the start when we first arrive, to set the intention of the class. On Monday we let go of the fear and today we used the word empty. We emptied out everything that we brought in with us and started afresh.

I emptied out the apples being eaten by the birds, the school dramas, the washing in the machine since yesterday, the period pain, the phone calls I have to make, the emails I have to return, my messy mind, Pepper's tummy ache, my to-do list and all sorts of other rambly etceteras and made an effort to be present in my body.

A few days ago we made sauerkraut. And I took a few photos inside. Which I never do because we live in the forest and it is often too dark in here. I love growing cabbages, and I love eating sauerkraut, and recently after listening to Richard Fidler's interview with Giulia Enders about The powerful impact of gut health on our bodies and brains and Lynne Malcolm and Olivia Willis's report on the intricate relationship between the gut micro biome and the brain - The second brain - on All In The Mind, I've started viewing it as medicine too.


I've been watching all those dangly beans fade from green to brown and waiting for their pods to rattle so I can pick them and fill jars with them, and winter soups and stews full of them, and later on come spring time, plant them all over again.


I've been watching as parts of our garden fade and die off.




Parts of our garden reach their autumnal peak.

And some parts of our garden lie empty and ready to be filled.

I knitted leisurely rows of Emily's birthday Bulldogs socks until I found out that the AFL men's competition starts again tonight. TONIGHT!! Better get a wriggle on, hey.


I watched Bren spend every spare second outside working with wood.



We squished and bottled jars of tomato sauce.

We made semi dried tomatoes in the oven using my old recipe from here.




And I've left the best to last. Over the past week Bren has started making bowls on his pole lathe from wood that he's found around our farm.

I should rephrase that: over the past week Bren has been thinking, speaking, watching YouTube clips, reading, dreaming and obsessing about wooden, pole-lathe-turned bowls. The making has been somewhat limited due to the weather and the busy season. But holy moly you guys, BOWLS!!!

I am beyond excited at these beautiful creations and the potential ahead. I am so very inspired watching his process, his need to learn and itch to create. And truthfully I'm a bit jealous of his obsession. I'm feeling so stuck creatively and would so love a dose of that excitement that comes with learning a new craft.

So I guess having started this post with the word empty, it's quite fitting to finish it with a photo of a bowl. A vessel waiting to be filled - with apples, with little love notes, with the treasures I find when I empty the pockets for the wash, I guess time will tell. And in fact I quite love them empty because it means you can see the beautiful grain and chisel marks inside.

And with that I'm out of photos, which must mean it's the end of the blog.

But first tell me about you - are you a sauerkrauter? A preserver? A lover of hot or cold weather? Fiction or non fiction? Happy or sad movies?

Me? - yes, yes, hot, fiction, sad with happy endings.

Happy weekend you guys.

Love Kate xx

Last night Autumn broke and now winter is on her way.

It's funny but although Autumn always makes me feel a bit melancholy about the loss of sunshine and the cold to come, Autumn also seems like the time of year that I am most sure of who I am. In Autumn I feel the most me.

In Autumn there are heads and hands to keep warm. Knitting becomes less of a hobby and more of a necessity. Patterns are chosen, baskets of wool are brought out and considered and a queue is made. As soon as I cast off something it is grabbed and worn and I cast on the next.

Ravelry details here.
 
I love how in Autumn we can go from - there's nothing for dinner - to a table full of freshly picked tomatoes - to a saucepan full of passata - to the most delicious tomato and noodle soup ever. And all in the space of an hour.

In Autumn we try to spend as much time outside while we still can. We walk to do the farm chores and sometimes we find little friends in the egg trailer.

In Autumn we pick up sticks for the wood stove wherever we go. We stockpile them in the kitchen basket and in the wood shed. It wont be long before dry sticks will be hard to find.

In Autumn there are always crates of fruit everywhere I look, the floor is sticky, the stove top is full and the sink is full of jam pots. In Autumn there are always rubber bands soaking, jars warming and the Fowlers machine gurgling.

In Autumn the shelves start groaning under the weight of filled bottles and jars and containers. We come to the end of what we preserved last year and put away what we have for next.


In Autumn every year I think of this fruit and veg grown with love, with no nasties, by us or by people we know and know love what they do and I know that we couldn't do this any other way. It makes a difference to the flavour and how good it is for us - I'm sure of it.

In Autumn the garden changes again, everything looks lush and green and stands up tall. Out with the old, in with the new.

This year I've been making wreaths on wisteria hoops to dry the seeds and roots for later. The world looks pretty good through coriander glasses don't you think?

In Autumn I feel confident that I'm where I need to be. I am busier than at any other time of the year, but as each job gets ticked off my mental list; as each tree in the orchard is stripped, as each crate of fruit gets emptied, as each pile of fire wood is covered, I feel that we are getting closer to being ready for winter. Autumn brings with it a sense of achievement. It is the end of one cycle and the beginning of another.

Ours is a slow way of living but it sure is beautiful and it tastes delicious too.


Go gently friends.

xx

ps this one's for you Heike - thanks for being so patient. x