Spring and Gratitude

We are almost one month into Spring and I am loving all the colour in gardens and bushland, the sound of birdcall as the fledglings prepare to leave their nests, and the baby possums clinging to their mothers’ backs when they visit early each evening for sliced fruit. The wallabies have joeys in their pouches and my tomato plants are bearing enough fruit for weekly charcuterie boards, bruschetta and to be thrown whole into pasta dishes. Tomatoes go so well with a chilled chardonnay, don’t you find?

A new friend

Last weekend I sold passionfruit saplings to raise funds for Wounded Heroes, an organisation that assists veterans at a grassroots level. I’ve been dining alfresco which is simply delightful and the feel of sun on the old bod is just so good.

Spring means a weekly morning walking club where we investigate new parklands, nature reserves ……..and coffee shops. The morning air is fresh and it is a time to be reinvigorated.

With all the negative media insinuations about an imminent Lockdown – after a football grand final on the weekend ( can you detect the dripping sarcasm?) – I have to remind myself of all for which I am grateful. I can deal with Lockdown, I can deal with the prospect of no ham for Christmas ( really, Australia, this is just pay back for our own stupidity) and I don’t give a rats if boat loads of plastic toys don’t arrive from China. *

The local church turned an unused building into an Op Shop during the first Lockdown last year in an endeavour to create some “community” in the area. They have since added a coffee cart and hold monthly markets to support local creatives. I will walk up there shortly for $5 coffee and cake of the day and to donate some books.

I have no religious affiliations or convictions whatsoever, though do live by the ten commandments – you just do – though fully support the efforts that this non-mainstream group go to in order to bring people together at a time when their is so much isolation. And so much fear.

I picked up a DVD from there for 50c last week, an Australian flick I wanted to see in the cinema but masks indoors ruined that idea. Palm Beach is geared to the Baby Boomer set and tells the story of three aging boomers, all in a rock group together back in the day, who reunite for a birthday weekend in Palm Beach, on Sydney’s northern beaches.

The movie stars Palm Beach and if you’re interested in checking out the lifestyle that Aussie’s aspire too this alone makes the movie worth watching. Actors include Bryan Brown, Richard E Grant, Sam Neill and Greta Scacchi.

I adored Bryan Brown in A Town Like Alice and The Thorn Birds. He was tall, laconic, and blokey and looked damn fine in a singlet. ( I digress, but what happened to singlets?) He lived only a few kms from me though from ” the wrong side of the tracks” as my mother would put it. Only a few years older than me loved him, loved him, loved him.

Finally, this movie reminded me that I am ever so grateful to still have my own teeth. ( Sorry, Brownie, but your Dentist owes you a refund.)

*I’ve been collecting the fallen paper bark from local bushland, soaking it, and using it to line hanging baskets. This weekend I will plant up the baskets with herb seeds and/or baby tomatoes. Children are being gifted books and clothes and for their parents a gift voucher to keep a local business alive, such as a hair salon, dinner at the pub etc. How bloody hard is it people?

The Colour Of My Life

I failed art at high school. It harks back to those first years of formal education back in the early 60’s when teachers would rap you on the knuckles with a ruler for colouring outside the lines. This torture continued as I progressed to learning cursive writing using a slope card. Do you remember them? If you failed to negotiate the appropriate guidelines you copped another slap on the wrist. Add this to learning to write using an inkwell and having to earn your “pen licence” and I was petrified throughout most of years at primary school. No wonder I never took to art…….(Don’t even ask how arithmetic classes affected my mental wellbeing, especially with an overachiever accountant as a father.)

Slope Card

Years later in my own home I rebelled and let loose developing a keen eye for colour : colour and art works by developing creatives. Treated myself to a piece of art every year for years. Lost them all in the divorce from a man who only liked the interior walls of a house to be beige.  Beige is Boring especially in the days when Mission Brown was splattered across every neighbourhood in Australia.

So I celebrated by painting my house feel good colours, colours that added warmth to my life, such as Sunflower Yellow and Budgie Green. Real Estate Agents laughed at my colour scheme, but it was I who had the last laugh.

Paint By Numbers and Still unable to paint between the lines.

In retirement, and with these days of Covid isolation and reflection, I have rediscovered the benefits of art. I still lack any artistic talent but creating something tangible and playing with colour has kept me sane. I’ve completed a couple of Paint By Number Kits ( never again, thankyou, fruit of my loins ) and successfully completed two Art Therapy study programs. 

Courtesy of Creative Therapy College

Last week we attended a guided paint workshop under the marketing umbrella of Paint And Sip. All very casual and social where you receive instructions on how and what to paint whilst grazing on BYO nibbles. Loved playing with the paints and mixing colours so much so that I will investigate local classes. It was also interesting to see that although everyone received the same instructions all results were different. Here’s a case in point : 

Pablo Picasso once said ” Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.”   I’ve got a damn lot of dust to get rid of yet………

To end, here are five fun facts about colour:

1. Mosquitoes are attracted to blue
2. There’s a name for the colour you see when you turn the lights off, just before it turns dark – eigengrau

   3.  Red is the first colour a baby sees.

   4.  Pink can curb anger. Pink prisons, do you think?

   5. Colour can affect taste.

And from my very own Natural Therapist, did you know that there are 66 different shades of green and that the state of your health can be determined by the number of greens you can see?

Kultya At Last.

I was planning on sharing my pleasure having attended several live performances in the past fortnight. You can tell that everyone is as pleased as punch to be out and about when a capacity crowd sings along with an Irish pipe band…..

Margaret Fulton The Musical was great fun, probably more so because the young performers were obviously overjoyed to be back on stage, which rubbed off on the audience. Who was Margaret Fulton? She was the cook who taught a generation of women that meals did not have to consist of meat and three veg. She introduced Paprika and other spices to the palates of Australian women as well as the Pressure Cooker. ( Never used one as I remember as a young child a catastrophe in my mother’s kitchen).

The local Community Theatre put on a production, Women Of Their Word, featuring the writings of Australian women such as Judith Wright, Dorothy Hewitt, Mary Gilmore and others, who were not only poets but activists. Wonderful stuff and included Devonshire Tea.

And an Irish pub band had everyone in fine spirits with their songs of rebels and treason. Nothing warms the heart like the odd rebel or two.

Yes, I was going to tell you all about these events which reignited an old girls spirit. Unfortunately, South East Queensland has just gone back into a hard three day Lockdown. Hoo-bloody-ray.

Just as well I managed to pick up a few books and DVDs on the weekend……

PS. Stay courageous fellow Brisbanites. It was time to start on a new project anyway.

The Letterbox Project

Still reflecting on some of the positives that came out of 2020 one of my favourite initiatives is The Letterbox Project.

The Letterbox Project sends handwritten letters from all across Australia to people experiencing isolation and loneliness. They source writers, manage and approve all letters, and deliver them safety to vulnerable people.

The Letterbox Project quickly become a national service supporting tens of thousands of people. With over 13,000 writers they are averaging over 500 letters being sent each week into nursing homes, disability services, and to lonely people across the country. There are over 270 schools participating, and a growing list of large corporations getting involved.

Why did this all come about ?

1. There are up to 240,000 Australians in residential care and 40% receive no visitors.
2. 1 in 8 adults with a disability get less than 30 minutes a day interaction with another person.
3. 2.5 million Australians are not connected to the internet.
4. There are more than 6,000 young people with disabilities in permanent residential care.
5. Loneliness and Isolation are major predictors of mental health issues.

For further information about Why see here: https://www.connectedau.com.au/the-letterbox

I signed up early in the piece and have been corresponding with a nonagenarian in a nursing home in Tasmania with a passion for cats. It’s surprisingly difficult to write enthusiastically pages and pages about felines and indeed a handwritten letter takes effort after many years on a word processor. ( as long term victims of my annual Christmas letter will confirm).

This task is rolling over as a 21 project.

A Rollercoaster Of A Week

What a rollercoaster ride we all experienced last week and that does not even include events on the other side of our world. Two of our most important sporting events were held according to our new Covid World and OMG it was ……….different.

 These were followed by The Junior Master Chef Semi Finals last night. The cooks are aged between 9 and 14 years and lets just say that they decimate my confidence in the kitchen. Grand Final tonight so I’m expecting tears. That’s me – not the contestants.

Take these cooks for example :

Mirror Glazed Carrot Mousse with Carrot Jelly and Biscuit courtesy of 10 play.com

Brownies with Candied Beetroot, White Chocolate and Beetroot Rocks courtesy of 10 play.com

One sweet little thing in pigtails cooked a pumpkin tart with a parsnip flavoured ice-cream. Who eats parsnip flavoured ice cream? Why would you even think of such a flavour? I don’t get it. My favourite contestant, a lad aged 10 whose favourite snack is Pate and Blue Vein Cheese has since been eliminated, though I see he is now giving online cooking classes…..OMG

On a more personal level last week I experienced a couple of Epic Fails.

My attempt at making clay wind chimes, without a lie, almost burnt the house down. Who was the imbecile that declared that creating home made gifts was a positive mindfulness experience ? Unless mindfulness includes a heap of expletives…..

And I had a death in the family. My favourite Rosemary bush carked it, requiring a massive effort for its removal. There’s more to the story including sewerage pipes, Grevillea trees, and several trips to the Dump but you get the gist.

The books by my bedside grew yet again. I’m drowning in them, I tell you.

And then there was this. Bless my cotton pickin’ socks.

A Vent. Sorry…………

I downsized prior to my retirement from a 1300 sq metre property with a pool to something less than half that size with less maintenance yet enough room to enjoy a garden. It’s a lovely position which affords me my independence and backs onto a nature reserve with far less work and expense. Isn’t that what retirement is all about?

With COVID my neighbours have been working from home even though in Queensland our borders are now slowly reopening and our infection rate is low. ( 6 deaths. Too many but ?) Half their luck.

Earlier this week the neighbour baled me up whilst in the back garden. When I say baled me up, I couldn’t see him behind the fence because we’re both short but I could most certainly hear him screaming at me.

For the second time of late I was reminded that they are “both gainfully employed whilst I am retired” with the inference that I sit around on my backside and watch The Bold And The Beautiful all day long.

I received a five minute scolding about :
⁃ talking to the wildlife
⁃ just talking in general
⁃ making funny noises whilst working ( sorry, carrying 30 kilos isn’t as easy as it used to be and there may be the odd groan)
⁃ and saying good morning to the garden each day really pisses him off apparently.

Meet Skippy and Swampy

The conversation ended with a “you’ve been warned”. In capital letters.

Firstly, I am retired, not dead.

The reason I retired young was because I worked hard for forty years and lived simply. I earned it in sweat, blood and tears.

I am busy most days which requires no further detail. Let’s just say that I believe retired folk are undervalued. Without their contributions many organisations would not exist, so lets start reframing the language and calling it what it is : pro bono work.

I would spend only an hour a day in the garden, perhaps double that when I mow the lawn.

My noise output is minimal. There is no motorbike in my garage nor do I have teenagers coming in and out at all times of the day and night. No pool, dogs, nor kids. I don’t even have a leaf blower. Old school, I use a broom.

I do have a courtyard that I look forward to using for entertainment purposes during Spring and Summer. Does this mean I should not be entertaining friends during the week, but only on weekends when the neighbours aren’t working? I’m not sure how to navigate these new living arrangements……….

Moving pot plants around is hard yakka

What really irked me was :

1. You gonna bitch don’t do it hiding behind a fence. Wuss.
2. Employment status doesn’t make you a better person than the next.
3. Don’t even start me on Agism
4. The old bod has worked hard in its day. I can’t physically do what I used to do thirty years ago but I give it a try. This is not Russia. You just can’t shoot me.
5. My property. My house. Not ladylike but **** Off.

My apologies for the vent.

Tomorrow I will wake up feeling much better and say good morning to the garden as usual. Pity I recently sold the daughter’s drum kit………..

Food and Music Save The Day.

The times they are a changin’. – Sir Bobness

Music from the 70’s has been my companion this week. When I downsized I tossed the Wedgewood and retained my vinyl collection. When I divorced I tossed the bloke and retained the music. Best decisions I made in years.

The music has kept me sane after having had our Prime Minister declare that there would be no overseas travel until 2024 – by which time, I wailed, that I would be dead- and the Northern Territory will keep its borders closed for eighteen months ( to provide biosecurity for the Indigenous population). I have no issues with being realistic but holy guacamole, a little hope goes a long way.

So lots of Donovan, Carpenters, Carly and Sir Bobness. In a different lifetime Sir Bobness ruled my house. I remember seeing him perform at the Sydney Opera House, one of those dreadful concerts for which he is renowned. I was decked out in smart work clobber, he and the rest of the audience wore cheese cloth. Some months later, having learned my lesson, I wore cheesecloth and little else to the Opera House to enjoy an evening with Donovan. He performed in a three piece suit.

So of course I’ve been cooking 70s style to go with the music. No fondues because I use that these days as a peg basket, though meatloaf stuffed with hardboiled eggs and plenty of stuffed cauliflower. My daughters don’t know whether to be appalled, impressed or alarmed.

No recipe books required – it’s all there in the wings which is a bit of a worry.

Next week we’ll move on to the 80’s. You’ll be pleased to learn I skipped the 90’s.

How I Know Life Is On The Improve

Yes, I have enjoyed a Chicken Schnitzel at the local pub, and yes, I’ve finally had a hair cut.

But here’s the biggie. The Real M’Coy. The Cat’s Pyjamas. The BIGGIE that makes things feel like we are at last getting back on an even keel after bushfire, drought and a pandemic. Or at the very least to some semblance of normality……

The local Rotary Club is holding a sale of preloved books as a fundraiser for both national and international projects. It’s not the usual version with books laid out for your selection but more of a Pot Luck affair because of limited numbers and self distancing rules. No matter ; a box of adult fiction for $20 or a bundle of kids books for $10 reminds me of fossicking through a show-bag from the Royal Easter Show in Sydney when I was a child many, many moons ago. ( My personal favourite was always the Liquorice Bag).

Anything SciFi , Dystopian or with a Dragon on the cover will be shared amongst friends or end up at the Little Community Library. Afterall the one thing this pandemic has achieved is to remind us to be a little kinder to each other. Touch wood.

These were a recent donation to the Little Library by a local pensioner.

A New Cookbook In The Works.

Following weeks of Self Isolation I was anxious about the results of my 6 monthly blood tests and was fully prepared for a lecture from my General Practitioner.

You know, weeks of channelling Nigella Lawson cooking comfort food with a wine in hand, scones for morning and afternoon tea, and outdoor activities reduced to picnics by the water and gardening. (I planted vegetables like a madman in case carrots and spuds went the way of toilet paper…..)

It was good to get frocked up for the appointment though I was feeling decidedly blobby. Putting make up on felt really strange and I hadn’t had a hair cut since the week before Christmas. If there’s a remake of The Adams Family on the cards I’m a shoe in for the part of Cousin It.

Plus I was nervous about the pending lecture.

Well blow me down with a feather all test results were damn fine. *Kidneys, Liver, Sugars, Cholesterol, Blood Pressure and I’ve dropped 5 kilos.

Repeat :

Lost 5 kilos in Lockdown.

Forget the Paleo, Keto, Atkins, and Israeli Diets. I’m working on a Covid Recipe Book which highly features Brie and Bordeaux, Shiraz and Salami, and Crackers with Chardonnay.

*Thank goodness there is no test for Brain Cells. That may have been a totally different matter.

Note:

With the easing of restrictions in Queensland enjoyed a Chicken Schnitty at the local this week. Starting to feel human again.

Still need a haircut.