Saturday and Sunday were nothing short of glorious.
The kind of early spring days that make one wax all Wordsworthian-lyrical about nodding daffodils and suchlike.
We had visitors from Melbourne on Saturday who were, I trust, suitably impressed by the halcyon country experience laid on for their gratification. There was dam-admiring, bush rambling, and goat patting-and-photographing.[ They certainly approved the hundreds-and-thousands pikelets produced for afternoon tea, and the repeat of same which became necessary when Chris got home from work just as we were wiping the last of the evidence from our lips ]
Sunday was Dave’s birthday.
Jessie and Robyn joined us for a small but select afternoon tea
There were balloons, streamers, cupcakes and a birthday cake … and sprinkles … and candles … and mini marshmallows.
Ergo to David and Jess it was a party.
Thanks to some inattention on my part, and the mad ninja skills of MissC, the first lot of cake batter ended up as animal fodder.
As a result – given a distinct lack in the eggs department, after all the pikelet and pancake making [and not being in the vicinity of a 24hour supermarket ] – half of the cupcake batter was partially repurposed to become the world’s second smallest birthday cake.
I don’t think cupcake batter is quite the same as full sized birthday cake – certainly couldn’t have been anything wrong with my baking skills after all – because the result was a little bit
tough chewy … but that was cleverly and cunningly disguised by mega levels of icing, hundreds-and-thousands, marshmallows and a tacky colourful bunch of plastic balloons in the middle.
After presents, we adjourned outside for post-prandial bubble blowing, which totally freaked out the goats [ who refused to repeat their synchronised gallop-madly-in-the-opposit-direction for the camera … buggerit ]
so here’s a perfect rainbow bubble instead
Still later, there were more presents and something that only vaguely resembled dinner, given our sugar and junkfood saturated state.
Take the post-dinner knitting and tv watching as a given, okay?
which brings us to yesterday morning:
When I woke up, it looked to be just as glorious as the days preceding
So why were my toes insisting [ vehemently ] that it was about to rain ?
Ignoring my nether extremities, I spent the next several hours alternating between periods of raking-piling-and-burning, and sitting-with-a-dog-a-book-and-a-cuppa-supervising-the-bonnies.
The temp reached 28C
Another day in paradise
The skies darkened.
Savage wind gusts came out of nowhere
and we spent the rest of the day/night listening to the sound of rain on the tin roof
… and now?
apart from a whole new layer of bark and leaf detritus obscuring all evidence of yesterday’s raking, and some general dampness, you’d never know that Monday’s 100+ kph wind-and-rain ever happened.
but I know
and my ever so smug toes are resting there at the end of my footsies with a distinct ‘we told you so’ air.
I will never doubt their veracity again!