The Toes Never Lie

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 ?

Nonsense

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

and then:

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!


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A purrfect day

Sometimes winter is grey, dreary, dismal, and seems to drag on forever

and then there are the days like today.

moderately warm, not a cloud in the sky … nothing but trees and birdsong and the chirruping of various amd sundry bugs

so of course I decided to sully all that wonderful fresh air with a major bout of my favourite winter activity … the ritual raking, piling and sacrificial bonfiring

and now I should clarify for those of you that haven’t been with me since the last bout of winter pyromania.

When one lives in the middle of acres of australian bush, producing vast amounts of leaf and bark detritus – in the most bushfire prone country in the world – it is not only acceptable but actually officially encouraged and actively sanctioned, that the fuel load be reduced in winter.

The raking and piling, bending, and toting part isn’t so much fun

but the bit where you get to set fire to things [in a safe and carefully controlled environment],
the inner pyro just loves that bit

and the tending of the fire … that bit is good too.

chair

book

cuppa

companion animals

[ taking a break from fire watching to indulge a keen interest in the multitude of  insect larvae, frogspawn and teeny tadpoles currently inhabiting the dam ]

all good

except for the part where I cannot now move certain parts of my anatomy

but you can’t have everything