Food Miles

I've got a bit of a 'bee in my bonnet' about the latest global warming catch cry....... food miles. Most people know that this means how far the food travels before it reaches your table.

If we read the labels on packaging in the supermarkets, we will discover that in Australia, we are eating simple foods like jams and sweet corn, dates and dried apricots from far away places such as Turkey, Poland and Thailand.

I've had a few shopping expeditions at ALDI recently, where all the labels are strange, and packed under the vast ALDI umbrella. I bought some peanut butter and was horrified to read on the label it was from China! Safeway (Woolworths) is the same.

China has recently earned the reputation for poor quality control on its products, with lead paint on children's toys, and chemicals in its foods. Who knows how the peanuts are grown for that peanut butter? The Chinese are know to use human waste for fertiliser, and ground grown peanuts could be bathing in it. Thailand could well be the same.

I like to know how my food is grown, and though it's cheap to buy imported food, it could well be bad for our health.

Australia is becoming inundated with imported foods, when we used to grow everything we needed. Local growers have been put under huge pressure with cheaper imports, and are closing down their operations.

I heard recently talk about fuel costs becoming so high, it will be prohibitive to cart food from one side of the world to the other.

Our household is trying to produce as much of our own food as we can, and our health has improved markedly with no herbicides or insecticides. I have hardly bought any vegetables for the past three years and our savings have been obvious.

The pleasure we derive from walking outside for food for our table never lessens.

We buy very little processed foods, but I have promised myself to read the labels, and spend a little more to buy locally grown food where I can.

............................................

Following on from that ramble, for the past three years, I have collected wild cherry plums that grow along many of our roads nearby. Spread by birds who revel in this annual fruit bonanza, they are easily accessible from the roadside.

I usually pick a couple of buckets, and cook them up for jam.

It is a real pain to pick all the pips out. I used to mash them up and do it with a teaspoon, which is very time consuming, but yesterday I waited for it to cool a little and got the hands in, which is much quicker.

I make the jam in the microwave in a huge casserole dish, and it's done in forty minutes. Apart from buying the sugar, we have delicious jam for nothing!

............................................

I think our new beehive is up and functioning, though I doubted it for the first few days. There were few bees around the front entry, and I hoped they all hadn't defected back to the old hive.

I tapped on the side yesterday morning, and it began to buzz furiously inside, so I think all is well.

We went to pick up a motorized honey extractor from a retiring beekeeper the other night. Although we are far from needing such a unit, it seemed too good an opportunity to pass up. Buying one new is a very expensive process.

My man hadn't seen it before, and his jaw dropped when we called to pick it up.

It is a real old dinosaur, with lovely cast iron mechanism. We were told he bought it from an 80 year old beekeeper. The motor runs smoothly, and the seller showed us all the tricks he has learned so it extracts efficiently, with little damage to the honeycomb.

We bought 6 used hives as well, complete with frames, so we can expand at our leisure.

"History is a kind of introduction to more interesting people than we can possibly meet in our restricted lives; let us not neglect the opportunity."
... Dexter Perkins

Roasted Vegies and Queen Bees

At 40 degrees Celcius it's a roasting day today! I have just been out to look at the veggie garden and many of the plants are seriously wilted. I have heard you shouldn't water your plants during the heat of the day, but being under a griller like our sun today, they don't have much chance either. I have even put an old umbrella over the cucumbers to try to restore them a bit. I have never grown cucumbers before, and they were developing quite nicely until the heat of the past week.

Next year, I am going to get a huge blind made that can be rolled out from the house eaves and over the whole thing. Then they might survive summer a little better. Our garden is our household's main source of vegetables; I rarely buy anything, so it's worth while putting in the investment.

We have another 40 degree day predicted for tomorrow, and everyone is bracing for the expected bushfires. This time of the year, we live bushfires, as my man works for the Dept of Primary Industries, and goes away to help fight them each year. He has not been called away yet, but could well do at any moment.

.............................................

I ordered a new queen bee recently, so I can split our one large hive into two. She came this morning via express post in a small box with four attendant workers. The postman tooted her horn as she put the parcel in the letterbox so I would know not to leave her there to roast.

I have never done this before, but have read up on the internet and my 'Beekeeping for Dummies' book. I also went to look at buying some secondhand hives, a hot knife and an electric honey extractor yesterday.

The man was a retired beekeeper, and had heaps of equipment to choose from, so we will pick up everything next weekend. He was full of information, so I picked his brain as much as I could.

I ordered a 'marked' queen, so she has a white dot on her back for easy identification. I mixed up some sugar syrup and wiped it across the wire, and they all had a feed, so all seems well.

I might not install her until the cool tomorrow night, because settling into a red hot new hive might finish her off.

We need to open the other hive, find the queen, then choose some frames with brood, honey and no queen to put into the new one. Next, the workers chew through the candy plug in the little box and release the queen. The few days it takes allows the hive to get used to the newcomers. Very 'political' and interesting.

“The bee is more honored than other animals, not because she labors, but because she labors for others”

...St John Chrystostom

"Mon Petit Chou"

I have sown some Ornamental Kale Cabbage seeds a few weeks ago, and am waiting impatiently for the tiny seedlings to grow bigger.

I bought some in a punnet two years ago, and had so much pleasure out of those four plants, I want more!. I even left them over winter and on into the next summer to grow into spires. These grew upwards into Christmas tree shapes for just the right time of the year.

When they finally went to seed, flowering in lots of soft yellow spikes, I collected them, tucking them away into an envelope and forgetting them until a few weeks ago.

I used the same method I did for carrots (which worked a treat), and mixed up a cup of flour glue, then got a matchstick and dabbed each seed onto toilet paper cut into long narrow strips, and drying them. Then I planted them into a seed tray of sand and compost.

Now I can't wait for them to grow big enough to plant out!

Looking up on the Net, I discovered that they can also be cooked, so I might save a couple for the pot as well.

" Mon Petit Chou"... A french term of endearment , literally translated as 'My Little Cabbage'

Down Where the Bugs Live.

I love nasturtiums. I love their intense colours, their shapes, and their determination to survive. I pull them out and they germinate and return. I go to pull them out again and fall in love with them all over.

I especially love views like this - down where the bugs live.........

This rose came from a hundred year old garden I helped to renovate 14 years ago. It is intensely perfumed, flowers profusely and changes colour as it opens and ages.

A pastel I have done of this rose.

"When God measures a man, he puts a tape around his heart and not his head"
... Funeral notice for James E. Robinson

Bits and Pieces

My early Christmas present is a 9ft Golden Elm tree.

Today we went out to Neerim South to the Blerick Tree Farm to view an amazing array of trees (over 2000). He offered to 'tree sit' until February, so it can reach it's optimum growth by autumn. He will water and feed it and check it for Elm Beetle.


Lovely! I am really excited, because I have wanted one for such a long time. My grandmother had a huge one out in her garden at Olinda when I was a child. I used to climb up into its branches and look up into its lime green canopy. I had to have one to recapture that lovely memory, and now it's done! Even standing amongst the young trees took me right back to those innocent days.

My wonderful tree will go down below my studio, where it can throw shade on the hydrangea walk I have built there. They need the shade and the blues will be beautiful with the lime green.

I am probably a bit past climbing up into the branches, especially by the time it begins to spread sideways. I'll leave that to the grandkids.

.................................................................................................................

I love rain like this, overflowing the gutters and pouring down the driveway. It didn't last for long though, and now the water's in our phone line and gives a loud irritating static while trying to talk. It happens every time we get a serious downpour.

.................................................................................................................

Who would believe our cute little lambies are now tubby sheepies in just three months? Some are developing the Cheviot roman nose that gorgeous dad Herbie gave them. They're great little people now, and spend most of their days sleeping, playing and stuffing their boofy little faces.

.................................................................................................................

My knee surgery for cartilage damage and whatever else needed will be scheduled by the surgeon on 23rd January 2008. Hopefully the plate in my wrist will come out as well. I may as well get it all over in one hit, then get on with my life.

I just have to stay out of trouble until then and that's the hard part.

.................................................................................................................

"I think I've discovered the secret of life - you just hang around until you get used to it."

... Charles Schulz

Ongoing

I went to visit my Harley yesterday to see how the repairs are going. It is almost back together again; just waiting on the fuel tank paint job, and the front brakes re-installed.

Robbie pulled it out of the line of bikes so I could have a go at pulling the clutch in, which I did, with difficulty, but I did succeed. Maybe I will be able to ride again.

I have decided to make closing the clutch in when the bike is back home my daily exercise!

I was chatting with a friend yesterday and telling her of the absolute exhilaration I get from riding my bike, and how closing the clutch in was such an achievement. She said, "You've got to get back on, Robyn!"

I will try. I don't know how I will feel being so exposed to injury again, but then I could get hit by a bus crossing the road. Indeed, driving back from dropping my man off at work this morning, I met the huge school bus coming round the steep winding roads we live on, and nearly had a 'confrontation'. Our corners are so tight that a large vehicle that doesn't bend in the middle can be a huge danger. I only remembered that the bus would be on its way 30 seconds before I met it, so was prepared to pull over in a hurry. It stopped, and I stopped, then we negotiated our way safely past each other.

Many residents report similar close calls, and we mumble about petitioning to get it downgraded to a smaller, safer vehicle, but never quite get around to doing it.

But, back to my original point, I could be hit by a bus!

................................................

I have an MRI on my wrecked knee tomorrow morning, which will be an interesting experience. My physiotherapist tells me it should only take about 20 minutes for a knee, so it shouldn't be too difficult. We are invited to bring our own music CDs to block out the apparently loud noises, so some Handel arias and similarly calming pieces will go too.

Always wanting to know more, I looked up MRI on Wikipedia. Bypassing all the technical blurb on how it works, I discovered it operated on a giant magnet, which could rattle any metal implants in your body. I don't know how it will affect my plate in my wrist, but they know I have that. My rings won't come off, so I should ring them today to see what to do about that. Further on in Wikipedia, I discovered a link to a You Tube that showed what effect the magnet had on a large oxygen bottle which was put on the table and run into the tunnel. It sucked the thing in with a crash, then banged it around like crazy.

Scary stuff! I might leave my oxygen bottle at home.........

I find that a great part of the information I have was acquired by looking up something and finding something else on the way.
... Franklin P. Adams

Retail Therapy

With my man hooning off up the highway to the annual Bombala Motorcycle Show and Shine, and me too broken to ride, I told him I was going to do 'retail therapy' and buy a worm farm. "Go for it!" he said, as he always does, never denying me anything. So I did.

I had a funeral to attend first for a lovely friend whose mother had died on Tuesday (at 94!). We 'don't do funerals' as my man states firmly, but she's a special lady, and it was also conducted by a celebrant I knew.

I was the first to arrive and sat on a couch watching people come in, noticing a tall man immaculate in a kilt, with his thick calves encased in knee high white socks. The old mum who had passed on hailed from Scotland originally, and had come out to Australia as a 'Ten Pound Pom', so I hoped this handsome man might play the bagpipes. He did, halfway through the service, and it was very haunting and emotional.

The celebrant did a great job, and, apart from the granddaughter having a sob through part of the service, it was a gentle celebration of her life..... as it should be. I sat quietly on my own, in the sun coming through the window, listening to the music Maggie had chosen, and watching a small jumping spider wandering towards me on the window sill. Great little spiders. I love them. They are the most entertaining creatures, appearing very inquisitive and can jump great distances. I resisted the impulse to poke at him, just watched him checking out the world. I recalled the documentaries where the spiders are magnified to a huge size, and pictured his many eyes, his busy little mouth, and all those legs working together, high at the front and low at back.

There was a clipped green hedge bordering green shrubbery through the glass at my elbow, so it was really pleasant with the music, the recounting of her life.

Leaving the funeral parlor, I kissed my stressed friend as she took off to the crematorium for a private send-off, and escaped. Sitting alone, politely eating sandwiches and having a cuppa until she returned was not on my agenda. She had all those relatives to attend to.

Off to Bunnings, where I picked up a few veggie seedlings, a gorgeous port wine ivy geranium, a tub carry-all, and my worm farm. I had spotted the carry-all on an ad on TV.... just the end of it, so I just had a rough image of what it was. With the limitations my weakened arm causes, to have something to carry mulch, wood, and anything else awkward in really appealed to me. The lady at the checkout says her old dad uses it to bring in his shopping! Wow! So will I......

So, back home, I planted my seedlings and other treasures, put my purchased ten kilo bag of spuds in my new carry-all (I love it!), and unpacked my worm farm.

I bought 500 worms, which was a bit stingy of me...... they say we need 1000, but who is in a hurry? The instructions are very clear, and here is the process.....

Set up the legs into the solid base and tap for the 'worm pee'. You dilute that with water and fertilise your plants. Then place a level with drainage holes on top and line it with the packing cardboard.

Soak the provided block of 'coir' in 3/4 bucket of water and break it up until all is absorbed.

Spread it over the cardboard packing from the outside of the worm farm pack.

Put your bag of purchased wormies in, spreading over the wet coir. Don't use worms from the garden; they must be compost worms, not earth worms, and would apparently die in normal earthy/drier situations. They need moist, composty conditions.

Cover with wet newspaper and kiss them all 'goodnight'!

Lid on, job's done!

Let them feed and breed, and as they expand, put more of the three provided levels on top one by one, and offer food on that next layer. the worms will crawl up to that to feed. When nearly all worms vacate the bottom one, that goes on your garden. Simple!

No onions, or citrus, they don't like that, or offer some neutralising fire ash to improve the balance .....

"Man cannot make a worm, yet he will make gods by the dozen"

...Michel De Montaigne

A Vase Full

There's nothing like fresh roses everyday. This is the first year my rose bushes have been big enough to just keep producing, and producing......

Her Garden is her Canvas

I have an artist friend who paints beautiful paintings, but sadly not very often. She also has a glorious garden, which reflects her creative and artistic talent.

I went for a visit yesterday, and we rejoiced in the beautiful drenching rain that was falling after a few hot days. The bigger the garden gets, the more water it needs, so this day of replenishment takes the pressure off for a while as summer heat approaches.

Each year I kick myself that I don't get down there for a viewing when it's in full spring bloom. It's a predominately green garden, which I love, where mine is a wild pallet of colours.

She has put in a lot of shade trees which throw dappled sunlight on all beneath, and create pockets of deep shadowed areas where interesting plants nestle.

Due to the rain I couldn't photograph too much, but while I waited for her I took a few snaps. The rest are from last year when she put on a fabulous lunch for our friend's and my birthday.

A truly magnificent garden..........

A King Parrot at a feeding station.

A constructed waterway.

Beautiful clematis and climbing rose.

Dear old Buddy enjoying a laze on the lawn.

Shallow pool outside the kitchen.

Close up of the rose above.

"Weather means more when you have a garden. There's nothing like listening to a shower and thinking how it is soaking in around your green beans."
... Marcelene Cox

Repercussions

Last week saw my damaged knee go out from under me and a clumsy slide down a steep slope with that leg tucked underneath. This ridiculous attempt at acrobatics has left me with my injury ramped up to pretty unbearable. By Thursday, and under the not so gentle hands of my physiotherapist, I was asked whether I might have broken something? That had never occurred to me, but as the day progressed and the pain escalated, I took my unused x-ray request from two weeks before and had it done.

Outside in the car afterwards, I peered at the films to see if there was anything obvious. Apart from what looked like some abraded bone surface where one bone could have twisted on the other, there were no obvious crack lines. I called in for a wait-for-it appointment and the doctor agreed with me, telling me to rest and take my anti-inflammatories.

The next day I was desperate, so much so I moved the surgeon's appointment forward two weeks, and went to see him yesterday. He was annoyingly uncommunicative as he twisted my leg up and down, causing me to really yelp with pain. He said he didn't know what the problem was, but wanted an MRI scan done, and was I happy to have an arthroscope done if necessary to tidy up the cartilage? "Anything!" I said, so long as it felt better.

So, the saga goes on. I constantly remind myself how lucky I was to get out with so few injuries, and as we see more road trauma accidents with horrific damage, I am grateful .... enormously so. An ad for a current affair show tonight shows a poor girl with what looks like a broken glass stab injury to her face, and tell myself 'there but for the grace of God go I........'

Soft bodies and hard surfaces don't go well together.

........................................

But my hand is coming good - gaining strength and much more movement. I even clipped two of my poodles over the past few days, which they really needed. Driving is easier now I can use that hand a little more.

........................................

On a lighter note, I am posting some photos of the different lavenders I have in the garden. My dear old camera's 'close up' opens up a whole new world!

"I always try to believe the best of everybody -- it saves so much trouble."

... Rudyard Kipling

A Trip to Sale and Back..........

We thought we might do an overnighter to Sale and attend the opening of the 'Flooded In' Exhibition at the Sale Regional Gallery. My flood painting would be one on show, and I was keen to see it in context with the theme. The area had been heavily flooded some months back, causing enormous trauma and damage, and the Wellington Shire has put together numerous events over the next few weeks to bolster morale.

I set up the three poodles in their luxurious 'Doggie Rooms', filled up with an early dinner, and promised visits complete with bones from a neighbour that evening and next morning.

We decided to leisurely tootle up the road, stopping for a delicious lunch in nearby beautiful Yarragon, and the purchase of a watercolour pad from Tritec, my favourite art suppliers. We met two artist friends there, one of whom had kindly rung me the night before to see if she could drive me with my broken wing to Life Drawing that morning.

On to Morwell, we went to Bunnings to buy paint. Dulux had its annual special of a four litre can of jelly beans if we bought two four litre cans of paint. What a couple of 'tubbies' like us need all those sweets for, I don't know, but we were fatally attracted to the idea.

So, loaded up with paint and all those lollies, we travelled on........

Then up to a Rivers Disposals Store at Traralgon, where I was thrilled to find two pairs of beautiful shoes at excitingly low prices. I am always notoriously low on shoes, finding so few that appeal to me, so this was a major coup.

We wandered on up the highway, stopping here and there, arriving at our booked motel in the late afternoon. It had been advertised as having an 'exotic garden', which we found highly amusing, as the lawn needed mowing and most plants were pretty ordinary. There was a magnificent dark red pelargonium which was blossoming at our veranda. I thought I might gently pilfer a tiny piece later on when it was dark.

Built in around the fifties and badly needing a tidy up, the motel also called itself 'international'. We assumed that was because they were both Austrian and offered sauerkraut, etc, in their restaurant.

The beds were clean, but there was not much else to excite, especially when we discovered there was not enough of those horrid little sealed milk containers for our allotted evening and morning cuppas.

After I discovered that, I snapped off a bigger piece of pelargonium before I went to bed!

At the Gallery, we met friends from nearby Stratford who were coming as well, and waited for the doors to open...... which they didn't! Starting to panic a bit, I asked a security guy whether we were in the wrong place. Sure enough, we had to do a quick runner up the road to the next building, not an easy feat for my wrecked leg, passing a cheerful brass band wandering up the pavement outside.


Inside, we were refused our complimentary champagne as it 'was over' (we were 10 minutes late), but scored a pleasant chardonnay.


The venue was very nice, and the exhibition was opened with some ceremony by a local councilor, who had been affected by the floods himself. All very posh and a bit cliquey, and it was over in an hour. Never mind! Off to a nice dinner at the nearby Irish Bar, my own champagne and a nice catch up.

The next morning, we had breakfast in the sun at a Stratford Cafe, having a chance meeting and a yak with a particularly manic friend we hadn't seen for ages. He is a taxidermist and a real character, and filled up the morning with his enthusiasm and special brand of craziness.

There was a shop next door, which we were told was very special, and it was. Owned by a Turkish man and his Australian wife, it was full of rugs, bowls, hanging lights and other assorted goodies ...... even belly dancing costumes! I was deeply tempted to continue my spending spree and buy a big pedestal bowl for our fruit, but got out before I caved in.

The wife's mother was a cheery, hard-sell type, and thought she might convince us to go on a 21 day tour next year to Turkey with the son-in-law. Around $5000 per person bought an all expenses paid trip around many interesting places, meeting families, tasting food, going to markets and historic landmarks. I think it even included a trip to Gallipoli. We have the itinerary, and it sounds great, but not now.....

Off to our friends' farm at the back of Stratford for morning tea, we had cuppas and freshly baked berry muffins on the veranda amongst her beautiful spring roses. She walked me around the garden with a plastic bag and a shovel, giving me small treasures to take home and bolster mine.

The farm is a show piece of around one thousand acres, where they successfully run a large herd of fat beef cattle and a sheep flock.


Leaving there, we toured some nearby areas where my man showed me how high the waters had risen at the height of the floods. We stopped at the property he had photographed for my flood painting, and it certainly looked very different now the waters had gone.

Along a side road, there was the Avon River still flowing over a washed away road; pieces of bitumen dragged up the river bed and bushes laid over.

Back home now, the poodles are fine (though hunting snakes again!), my cuttings from the rose garden are safely in their dirt, the boss has had his nanna nap, and my blog is done. Where's the bubbly?

"No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow. "

.... Lin Yutang

Birthday Treats

I was soooooo spoiled yesterday for my birthday.

I had an absolutely perfect day.

My lovely man asked me last week where I would like to go on the day, perhaps somewhere in 'the Dandenongs'? While pondering on maybe going again to the National Rhododendron Gardens at Olinda, I recalled that 'Cloudehill Gardens' were also in the vicinity. It is renowned as one of the major gardens in Victoria, and has featured on television and in magazines many times.

I have a special affinity for Olinda, and the Dandenong Ranges as a whole, as we spent many happy times in the 50's and early 60's staying in my grandmother's house on the same road. I do plan a write up on those years soon, and am also hoping to source the exact position of the old house, which was a particularly old and beautiful one. Maybe it's still there! I hope so. Everything looks so different now.

As we prepared to leave, I rang a good friend to wish her happy birthday as well. She asked me whether I was planning something special, and I told her we thought we might go to Cloudehill Gardens. "Wonderful! Have a great day", she said.

We went for morning coffee at nearby Olinda township, and browsed the boutique gift shops there for a while, then cruised off to the gardens.

They certainly didn't disappoint, as we wandered from 'room' to 'room' through the 20 beautifully manicured spaces ...........

A warm garden, which will be spectacular as the weather warms up.


Colours that 'sing' together, along with a scalloped hedge

Working with slopes offers so many surprises and options.

Every corner we turned, there was a new vista........

Tree Peonies in all colours

Tucked away in the shade under a weeping Cut Leaf Maple

Glorious Cameos everywhere.

Beautiful metal gate made by the sculptor, Kim Kennedy.

............ and then down to the hundred year old garden filled with old rhododendrons and trees and winding paths and steps.

Even the wilder parts are like watercolours

Climbing up from the Old Garden

Finally, after exploring most of the trails and views, we made our way back up the slopes to the restaurant, and there on the deck was the 'birthday girl' with her husband and son!

Needless to say, we all sat and ate and drank ourselves silly for much of the afternoon. The food, service and surroundings were perfect. I had Red Snapper with Basmati Rice, lentil dahl, and spinach. Desert was a Bakewell Tart, with a biscuit base, strawberry jam, apple and buttercake, then an almond marzipan on top.

I even bought two more unusual potted Gazanias for my collection!

We all planned to go via Sassafras to visit the famous Tea Shop, where anything to do with tea is on display for sale, but time was short, and we had to rush back for my physiotherapy appointment in Warragul, which we just made.

Probably not the perfect way to end a perfect day, but I have rekindled it by working my way through all my glorious photos.

When each season arrives, we have made a pact to go back for another look.

http://www.cloudehill.com.au

..... and that wasn't all.

We were also treated by lovely friends to the Bangarra Dance Theatre performance at the local Arts Centre on Tuesday night. Dinner at the restaurant came first, then some spectacular dancing by the indigenous troupe made for a memorable night. The first piece was mind blowing, with throbbing music, and slow motion dancing. I could have watched it for hours. In the second half, a performance displaying an ancient aboriginal past time of telling stories with hands and string designs. The dancers were like spiders on webs, interlinking their strings to make shapes. Stunning stuff!

http://www.bangarra.com.au

Sunday will bring a family barbecue, so my birthday has been drawn out for a long time, and filled with marvellous treats. I never thought turning 57 would be such fun!

Wisdom doesn't necessarily come with age. Sometimes age just shows up all by itself.

... Tom Wilson