Hen Whisperers

At one stage, we had over 50 ex battery hens.  They were so gentle, and I admit - I talked to them.  The Machinist took over my role as Chief  Hen Feeder and he, too, began talking to them. Nowadays, we have one Rhode Island hen, and she is scraggly looking, seeing as it is time for her moult. I cannot bare to leave her alone in her (Rolls Royce) hen house, so I let her stroll the garden.  She loves to climb the steps to the back deck and resume her roll as top of the pecking order.  No more thieving magpies and no more kitties;; - they've migrated to the front of the house and guard it with a passion. 

There are so many detailed things one has to do in the morning, sometimes, too petty to even mention.  One that always makes me smile, however, is the ice-cracking of the water in the communal bowl.  The dogs and the hen drink thirstily and peacefully together when the ice is removed or we've exchanged the cold water for luke warm.  The hen then has first dibs on the dog food, throwing her scrawny neck back at each picking.

The Machinist asked me the other day if I thought we should get some more hens.  Knowing us, I replied that it would be better to wait and allow the Lone Hen to savour her days without the introduction of potentially new upstarts.  When we have a large flock, producing more work and cost we declare we shall have no more, but again, knowing us, we never do anything in halves.

Hmmmm.....

His Lady

I didn't think it that important. I wasn't going to go.  But I'm sure glad I did.

The ultrasound revealed I had a 20cm (8 inch) ovarian tumour.

"When did that happen?"  "How?"

To cut a long story short, and not to downplay a major abdominal surgery, the tumour was benign and I'm now recuperating very well.  (Thanks so much for asking!) 12 days after my surgery, our first grand-baby - the beautiful, gorgeous Keiralea Anne De Bruin joined our family.

I simply cannot describe the love.  I tear up when I think of her, and sometimes - even - when I'm holding her, as I kiss her and feel her baba-soft cheek skin.

The Machinist insists I am now his Lady.  His Lady of Leisure.  I am his 'delicate' English rose.  Sometimes, he calls me "... the Ruby he found and claimed from that small country town in Africa, never to return..."

I am currently in limbo.  I am seeking projects.  I have plans.....

Thankyou so much for reading!

xxx

My Valentine

My daughter, Sarah, invited me to be one of her guest bloggers and to write about my love story in the lead up to Valentine's day.  Why not pop over to Sarah's Blog, "Middlepaw" and see why the Machinist will always be my Valentine

Tying Loose Ends

I can hear the gentle wooshing of the rain as I sit and type.  The Machinist has finished watching his favourite program and has just walked through to the lounge, where I sit behind my desk with a dim lamp light.  He draws the curtains.  It is part of his evening routine, as he is such a creature of habit.  He draws the curtains, locks the front door, goes to the bathroom, then takes his supplements.  He's like clockwork and I love him for it, as he is a great support, dependable and reliable.  He is steadfast and comforting and assuring even- especially in these times of uncertainty.

I find that there are so many projects that I want to complete, both in the house and also in the garden.  Before I can whole-heartedly throw myself into these projects, however, I have to finish packing up the shop.  My brother has bought most of our equipment, but there is always so much of the smaller items to deal with: glasses, crockery, cutlery, small appliances, stationary, table signs and numbers, menus, left over giftware, jams, sauces, honey and small quantities of dry goods like peppers, specialised flours, spices etc.

During the days of packing up The Daily Pie, I am also 'flirting' with a HUGE decluttering at home.  Some days, I take things from home to the shop, and others - I take things from the shop - home.  The rest goes into a huge trailer parked outside, ready to be towed to the local tip.  Some days, it feels like I am getting "nowhere", as while I spend so much time in each day repeating this routine, I am not doing the regular chores like washing, cleaning, and even - shopping.  We have plenty of stock in our home pantry, but lack fresh fruit and vegetables and other perishable items.  Hence, we're still not eating as healthy as I would like us to eat.  My waistline proves it!

And although we are still saddened by our elective closure of the Cafe, we are all excited about the future...

Galavanting

The Machinist and I did a lot of gadding about during our Christmas break.  We went on a few day trips around our region.  I'm still grazing on the memories of drives we took in the new Land Rover Discovery.  This is what it looks like:

What a pleasure to travel on hot days in a beautifully airconditioned car!

We went to the National Gallery of Australia:

h

The War Memorial:

 The National Zoo and Aquarium:

We took a trip to the beach.  Some of us swam, some paddled, some frolicked in rock pools and some, well - they just got sun burned.

Later in the Christmas break, the Machinist and I took a trip to Cooma, which is a town in the Snowy Mountains.

It wasn't snowing when we were there (ha!), and after passing through we descended the Brown Mountain, and spent the night at a quaint Bed and Breakfast, which was and still is the General store and Post office called The Two Storey B & B at Central Tilba

But... the one place that I truly adore and even dream about was the culmination of our travels, namely, the one and only Foxglove Spires Garden at Tilba Tilba. 

What can I say?  You can read more here. 

I am truly besotted, especially as I read the creator and owner of the garden, Sue Southam's book: Velvet Pears. 

And so, to bed!  Where I can read more of these beautiful pages, and perhaps even dream of them!

Bittersweet

Life is oftentimes bittersweet.  The realisation that we had to close our beloved Pie Shop, The Daily Pie was one of those bitter times.  While we packed and cleaned we had a constant knot in our throats.   One day, Sarah and I went up to the shop, intending to take pictures and write descriptions for the sale of equipment.  (I had been up there previously, alone on a few occasions, just wanting to 'think'.  I was adjusting myself to the prospect of no longer having the shop). As she approached the pie display fridge, (which we endeavoured to keep choc-full of ample pies, beautifully arranged) she took a step back and declared "...it feels like I'm selling my soul.." 

This little heart-declaration caused us to postpone the photo session until... well.....we still haven't returned for that, but we will.

There is so much that goes on behind the scenes in the hospitality industry.   I knew straight from the start, that we would never have been as successful if it wasn't for the help of a VERY DEAR FRIEND of ours, fondly known as "Cheffy".  He helped us regularly, without return or promise of return. He is generous of heart, methodical, punctual, reliable - a perfectionist and a true gentleman. The unsung hero (to us, anyway).

And so, it is farewell to the old, as the promise of something new breeds unpredicted, yet sweet excitement!