Time Warp/School Holidays

I'm writing this completely out of order. But life can be like that (not to mention my mind!!!).

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Anyway, back oh a year ago (or so it seems) in the middle of July we had midyear school holidays. My Little Tree was perfect - even with a cold for the first week (wow) and I didn't want to send him back to school.

We have a holiday planned for later this year. Our first holiday for eight years. Our little autistic son would, in the past, have been far too anxious and distressed for us to consider it. Whenever we want to do something or go somewhere different or if we have people coming to visit, quite a lot of preparation has to be done or we face a meltdown. We have a laminated A3 page that is a weekly calendar and each week I write up the major events such as school, gym, OT, excursions, visits from family or friends etc. For events that I think are guaranteed to send him off the planet I go a bit further e.g. recently we started seeing a new occupational therapist, J. Little Tree is familiar with the hospital but not J or the rooms where she works so I requested that she email her photo and of the rooms. Using these tools I was able to get Little Tree to happily enter the rooms and work with J. Without these I would expect him to refuse to go through the door and any insistence would lead to panic and his withdrawal to a place I can't reach. To any observer unaware of his condition this would appear just like a tantrum of a spoilt child.

(This is Little Tree's calendar for this week. Yes, he has another cold - courtesy of his Dad. Where a change of schedule is required we cross it out and write the new one. When he was younger all this would have been pictures.)

With all this is in mind and to introduce him to sleeping away from home, something he hasn't done since he was a tiny baby, I decided to spend a couple of nights at Grandmama's (my Mum). So for a week beforehand I went through the plan on the calendar. Little Tree is very familiar with her place so we automatically overcame one obstacle. Once it was dark outside he asked to go home - my heart sank, my stomach clenched and with crossed fingers and girded loins I reminded him that we were sleeping there. He was a little nervy but we managed bath, teeth cleaning and bedtime story with no problems. He fell asleep pretty quickly and would have stayed asleep until morning if one of Mum's bloody dogs (Dalmatians) hadn't decided to give one of the local swamp wallabies a good barking to. I should explain that we live close enough to town to have noise from neighbours and traffic whereas Mum's place is in the middle of 10 acres, a little less than half of which is bush and her land is surrounded by other like properties. So it's quiet, really quiet. Any noise bounces around the valley like it's being played through an amplifier. Little Tree naturally woke up to this canine outburst and called for me. Damn. It took less than an hour to get him back to sleep - a huge improvement on the 2 hours it would have taken a couple of years ago. The second night was almost a carbon copy of the first so by the time we left to return home I was beginning to reacquaint myself with sleep deprivation.

He loved the days up there though. We spent a lot of time kicking a "soccer" ball around between us - what is it with boys and balls (and let's keep it clean)!!!! He also had to follow Grandmama to the veggie patch whenever she went out there, he wanted to help feed the goats but their horns frightened him too much. His favourite thing to do, by far, was to feed the chooks and collect the eggs.

Our next step is to have him sleep over at Grandma and Grandad's (Mr I's parents).

My hope is that with enough preparation we will manage a relatively relaxing resort holiday. I am so-o-o-o-o looking forward to my three hours at the day spa while the boys go fishing.

Tick, tock

Oh my goodness, time has flown.

The season has changed. Hurrah. Well not officially and I was sure it had turned quite some time ago but now the sun is proving it. (I was trying to capture the sparkle of sunlight through the glass but the camera did not quite get there. I really must learn how to take better photos too.) What a bleak and seemingly long, dark winter it has been. I cannot begin to tell you how my spirits are lifting with the return of the sun. We are having the most beautiful spring weather. Much as we try to squish our Australian climate into the eurocentric idea of four seasons, in reality it just doesn't work that way. It seems to me we have more like 6 and possibly there are more for someone more sensitive.

At the risk of losing vegies to late frosts, I have begun planting vegies, various lettuce, kale, bok choy, silverbeet, spring onions, snow peas and basil, rocket, continental parsley. Next I want to put in some coriander before it warms up too much and it bolts to seed. I have managed to pick 2 strawberries already!!! However further chances of that happening are greatly reduced as a possum seems to have discovered that, clever as thought I was being, lo there are strawbs to be found among the flowers! I have heard him/her growly cursing out there in the evening. Drat. Postscript: Did I say late frosts? We've just had our hottest August day on record. Phew!

Most of all this spring I want to plant lots and lots of colourful flowers. The daughter of the house owners (who lived here before us) had begun to set up the garden along permaculture lines - lots of productive plants but few flowers. We have tried to maintain it as such. In a system where everything hopefully has more than one purpose, I'm not sure that flowers for the sake of flowers are entirely "allowed". But this year I'm putting my foot down - I'm having flowers just to look at and enjoy. They will however bring bees and other predators into the garden so maybe I can get away with it. To this end I have already planted daisies, jump-up-jacks, polyanthus, pansies, primulas and marigolds. I had alreay planted a chinese lantern shrub and white heliotrope. I need to go back to the nursery and part with more money because I've decided that there is still room for more flowers.

Oh, and I have found my singing voice again. Sometime at the end of last year it decided to go. Well, not literally, I could sing but my feelings of joy in doing so had completely vanished and I was beginning to wonder if they would ever return. But here is the sun and after some deep work on old hurts, I feel a toxic cloud has lifted. Having found a new path on which to set my musical feet I am singing again along with the birds who seem to echo my enthusiasm for this season of renewal (If for a somewhat different reason - wink, wink).

Even though it may seem an odd time of the year to begin knitting - that's exactly what I'm doing. While staying with her over the holidays Mum and I went through all her patterns looking for the woollen cape I know she has...somewhere. We didn't find it but I did discover a book by Liz Gemmell called Knitting for your Home which has patterns for knitted floor rugs. We have a sofa - the original fabric is torn (I mean to recover it some day when I'm feeling more courageous about my ability) so we threw a loose cover over it and now with all the rough treatment from the two boys that in turn has torn on the seat part. At the moment I have placed a cot blanket crocheted by Mum for Little Tree but... and now comes the point I'm trying to make - I have taken a pattern from the book and am in the process of knitting up squares that will eventually be sown together and used as a throw. Here is a photo of the first three squares and the fourth in progress. No, unfortunately it is not wool. For ease of washing I have chosen acrylic yarn.

Happy Birthday to me.

Sunday started clear and cold but by the middle of the day we were stripping off our jumpers and sitting on the verandah soaking up the glorious warm sunshine. Even better, it was my birthday.

We had a quiet day, just Mr I, Little Tree and my Mum with a trip to the in-laws later in the afternoon. Little Tree had to be reminded to wish me happy birthday but having started he kept wishing me a happy birthday for the rest of the day (smile). Both boys put up streamers and balloons and Little Tree helped cook the meal and of course couldn't wait to eat the cake.

My favourite gift was the camera that took these photos. However I haven't yet read all that it can do. With a bit of practice maybe my camera skills can improve.

A Wet Winter Solstice

I am grumpy today. It is raining again.

We were going to celebrate the Solstice today but with a house full of sick people, we will have to postpone it. Little Tree has a nasty cough and cold and Mr I has picked up a tummy bug from somewhere (let's hope he doesn't share it).

I have bought tickets to a film and feast night organised by our Local Food Network. The film is called "Grow Your Own" and sounds very entertaining. But first will be the feast made entirely of locally grown organic produce. Yum! Entertainment by a local band. So that will be my celebration.

This winter has been the wettest I've known here. We are meant to be in our dry season now. Yet the ground is soggy and squelchy as it has not had enough time to dry out from the floods and the air smells foul. The seedlings we put in months ago are struggling and many plants who have an aversion to wet feet have given up the ghost. Our terraced garden out the back resembles paddy fields and I'm sure everyone in this region would join me in shouting "We are sick of the rain". It must seem very unfair to other parts of Australia where they have been experiencing drought for years. To all those people in this area that are visualising abundance - STOP! Please.

In spite of my grumps, wherever you are, dear readers - I wish you an enjoyable solstice.

Blessings to you all.

Masterchef Reject

For weeks I have been reading the blogs of women who seem to be able to cook the most amazing food for their families or quickly run up a set of clothes for their children. So feeling pleasantly domestic and hoping to acheive a similar satisfyingly homey outcome I got out the appropriate paraphenalia. I now wish that, for the short period of time I spent at a particular school attending compulsory Home Economics classes (yes, they even set tests), I had paid close attention instead of yawning my head off, wondering how on earth this was relevant to me and dreaming of being just about anywhere else.(I only lasted 6 months at that school - I begged to be sent to a far more sensible school that thought cooking should be an elective, if anything, and where I could indulge in...oh my gosh, real subjects.)

Mr I once told me of the uncanny ability of the cooking staff at his Uni college to take clearly recognisable and palatable ingredients and turn them into the most unappealing meals. One such, he and his fellow collegians chose to call Chicken Trainsmash.

Hence the title I give to the outcome of abovementioned culinary adventure - a dessert I choose to call Apple and Sultana Trainsmash.

Little Tree was excited about helping me cook a new dish. We started out peeling, coring and chopping apples for stewing. This went quite well although Little Tree did get quite frustrated that the peeler would work for me but not for him. And decided after much trial and error that it would be better if Mum did that bit. He liked cracking the egg and mixing all the ingredients for the dough and was very helpful in instructing me how to use the rolling pin.

Having rolled the dough to the correct thickness and having spread a layer of stewed apples and sultanas over the dough - we proceded to the next step in the recipe book which was to roll it all up and slice into 7 or 8 segments. Had this worked we would have ended up baking something like this.....

Fate intervened. The dough started to stretch and stretch, stick to the floured surface and the fruit started oozing everywhere. At which point Little Tree stated quite categorically that "Mummy is eating that " and definitely not himself. Trying unsuccessfully to rescue everything I eventually decided I had two choices - throw the whole lot in the bin and leave it to more experienced bakers or to pick up the lot and dump it into the greased cake tin and cook it anyway. Well, being someone who hates to waste good food, I chose the latter while thinking that maybe it would still taste okay even if it no longer looked anything like the intended dessert. This was the result....

Having tasted it (very chewy) I know why the book calls for caramel sauce. Anyway, I made a quick call to Mr I to pick up some cream and crossed my fingers that I could at least make a decent caramel sauce.

In hindsight what went wrong? The dough was too wet - "add water to make a soft dough". What is a soft dough supposed to look and feel like? Obviously an assumed level of knowledge was required. The stewed apples still too warm ( I did wonder at the time) and next time, if there's a next time, I will roll out the dough on paper to assist in the rolling up. And maybe I'll stick to singing and shop at the bakery - that way we'll both be doing what we've spent years training for.

Evolution, Wise Friends and Nebulae

I can't believe we are halfway through the month already.

Little Tree is home from school at the moment with a nasty cough and cold. So we have train set, colouring pencils, puzzle books, toy cars, blocks and plastic animals from one side of the living room to the other. Making it somewhat of an obstacle course to get to bookcase/TV/stereo/sofa or just about anywhere. Apart from the sniffles and coughs and wanting to go to bed earlier than usual, you wouldn't know there was anything wrong. He maintains his usual happy, playfull, energetic self which is just delightful. I would find it distressing if he turned into a demanding, sulky, miserable child - that would mean he really was seriously ill.

I was recently lent a book called "The Mayan Calendar and the Transformation of Consciousness" by Dr Carl Johan Calleman. I found it fascinating in many ways. Not least of which the idea that my impression of the speeding up of time is not that I'm getting older but rather the increasing frequency of creative events occurring now (and has been increasing since "the big bang"). The idea that we are on the verge of moving away from the dualist mind to unity and co-creation seems to go hand in hand with the move by so many people this year (including me) to find a new path or approach to life as the old one no longer seems relevant.

Isn't it funny how things come to you out of the blue that support your journey.

Wednesday last week was one of those days when a quick walk into the village turned into a three hour sojourn into wisdom. Firstly, I bumped into a friend and her daughter and was invited to join them for chai. Daughter spoke about a dream and Simone, while trying to help daughter interpret it, reminded me that if I find my life not to my liking at the moment, the obstacle/s to finding it otherwise are in my mind. Later I bumped into another couple of friends who were talking about the holographic universe and how we are connected to everything else but our dualist minds cannot see this. Having left them to their shopping, I quickly came face to face with another friend who helped me reconnect with the truth that I am (as we all are) much bigger than the life in which I find myself . All these interactions put everything into a broader, deeper and richer perspective and I walked home feeling more profoundly "true" than when I left. That evening I found, quite by accident (or was it?), a programme on SBS called Cracking the Colour Code. It talked about colour and how we are able to see colour. What really touched me was the images of stars and nebulae and the knowledge that I am made of the same stuff. So there I was sitting on the sofa in profound awe knowing I am materially and energetically connected to those stunningly beautiful nebulae.

On another note. Last night I watched the second half of an interview with Sir Ken Robinson, an expert in creativity and innovation, speak about how we are letting our children and our society down with our current education system. He advocates a radical review of the system in order to nuture creativity in our children. To enable them to find that place in themselves where interest/talent/passion intersect and to support them on their unique educational journey. This does not happen with a standardised curriculum and assessment system and where different modes of learning i.e. visual, auditory or kinesthetic are ignored. Where maths, sciences and languages have more status and quite often more funding over humanities, art, music, dance.

I'm hoping to obtain a copy of his book "The Element: Finding Your Passion Changes Everything". I would love to find an alternative education for Little Tree. Unfornately, independent schools do not get the same level of funding for aides as government run schools and Little Tree needs an aide or I would have liked to see how he managed in the Steiner system. If I thought I was up to it, I may have considered home-schooling - provided he was able to socialise often with other children being home schooled. I just think a lot more lateral thinking and creativity could be used in teaching these special needs children - something further on which to ponder.

Love and blessings to all on your unique and wonder filled journeys.

First Day of Winter

This is what I like about Winter - the skeletal frames of unclothed trees, accessorised only by filigree seed chandeliers yet to be dislodged by the wind.

Winter greeted us with a shower of rain this morning and given the frequency of floods over the last months I started feeling a little paranoid. However, the clouds parted and for a little while - long enough to walk into the village shops and back again - we had lovely sunshine. So, in honour of Winter I have included a poem written by fellow blogger Mark Williams.

Charm for a garden at the end of Summer

This hop-lapped vessel
a green lion
fiercely prowls.

Man-legged, leaf-shanked one,
hear! Stride bone-shards,
smoke-briars,

repent your sway
of moss and fern.
Cast off your herb-pelt

and with your roar, shiver
this sealed alembic:
let outside in utterly.

Call pear and apple,
bid them bare their breasts
to wasp's bite. Call swallows

to stitch up the wounds
with thread of shadow. Call night,
call winnower, eat ashes

and underglow. Set down clay too
for you, death,
bread's sunbrowned echo.

Pigeon and blackbird, hush.
Hold the curved silence
you remember from the egg.

O blood, thicken in the vein
sink down. O root beneath,
sing for the frost lode.