The Hottie - winter's a'comin!

I have a friend who always travels with her 'hottie (hot water bottle). I think it's a comfort to her and I have begun to follow her 'habit'. Neither of us have a 'hubby' to 'use' instead - and we call them our rubber hubbies! It got me thinking about the ubiquitous hottie versus the electric blanket. Except for the odd 'leak' from an old hottie (as happened recently when a friend lent me her long departed mothers hottie!), they are probably safer than an electric blanket - and won't burn the house down if they malfunction. They are transportable and they take me back to my childhood. I guess it's a bit like cuddling a dolly or a teddy bear!

And then there are the usual hottie covers that one can knit, or as my friend does - she makes them out of the sleeve of an old cashmere jumper (a new cover/sleeve every year!!).  Years ago in Aspen I picked up one that is a sheep. I think it's rather fun. 

The Aspen Sheep cover! Baa!

One of my guests took my last hottie and I needed to buy another. It was on my supermarket shopping list so I headed to where I thought a hottie would be located. I searched the toothpaste, body creams, baby formula, makeup area to no avail. Then I searched the bedroom linen, coathanger, shoe insert and other oddes and ends area - again to no avail. So off I went to the checkout chick to ascertain where they were located. "Yes, we do sell them, try the" toothpaste, body cream, baby formula area (well not those words but..). I replied "No, not there". On she went "Well then try the" bedroom linen, coathanger, shoe insert area (well not those words but...) So off I went again and spent another inordinate amount of time searching for a hottie. Again to no avail. So off I went to the 'store manager' (time is getting away from me now!) "Yes" she said "Follow me" and with that we headed down the aisle marked coffee. By this time I was frantic. Why on earth would she take me down that aisle. And there opposite the coffee were the freezer bottles and an array of smart metal water bottles. "No" I wept "I'm looking for a hot water bottle" and 'cuddled' myself (!) "It's to keep me warm at night". "Yes" she said looking at me as if I was mad (!) and pointed to the very bottom shelf. And there they were. In the water bottle 'department'. Now I ask you - why on earth would you put them there - opposite the coffee! It would appear that the store-shelf-allocator had no idea what they were for. (Perhaps drinking hot water from them?!) "My apologies" I grovelled with my tail between my legs. Then it was back to the checkout (by this stage I had overstayed my free hour of parking!) to report to my checkout chick where she could find them. "That's ridiculous" she replied. "I'll report it and have them moved" (now this was a pro-active chick)

A polo-necked fair isle cover - very smart but not cashmere!

So if you think you need comforting, then why not head to the supermarket aisle near the coffee - or the local chemist! You can then cuddle your way through a Melbourne winter. Happy cuddling!

The Shack

I was telling a friend recently that I was heading off to South Australia to stay at 'The Shack' for Easter. Now my friend likes all the very best comforts of life and I know she was horrified to think that I was off to a hovel!

2 captains of industry - my father (with large fish in hand), my mother, and 'shack owner' in front of The 'original' Shack

So I thought I would give you a little background into 'The Shack'. Located on the beautiful Fleurieu Peninsula about 1.5 hours south of Adelaide it was the holiday 'home' we went to when I was growing up. Well we didn't 'own' it - but our little family of 3 were invited often to stay with my parents best friends - a family of 6! (not counting the dogs in both families). To say that it was rough and ready would be an understatement. It was basically a single garage that after a number of years had a 'dream home' extension added - another garage room behind it! Our parents slept in the living room in wire bunks - which were used during the day as 'couches'. That room contained the kitchen which comprised a table and chairs to seat either the adults or the children (but not both!) a 2 burner kerosine stove, a kerosine fridge and the piece-de-resistance were the kerosine 'Tilley' lamps we needed to pump up to light our way at night. (there was a lot of pumping required to keep us going!) The backroom comprised 4 bunks - and a sort of 'roll-out' when I was staying - a wash basin (with a bucket below to catch the water) an outside tank and that was it! Oh did I forget to mention the 'dunny' up in the sand-dunes which needed to be emptied - often. (It seemed to be one of my fathers' less enchanting tasks when we were staying!)

Lined up for a swim - my father, aunt, me (!) my mother and at the front the current Shack owner and custodian!!

A real-estate description would have been interesting but if one was geared to location, location, location then this had it all. It was built right on the beach. When a storm came 'The Shack' was surrounded by crashing waves as we peered out the louvred windows. After the storm had abated we would step outside gingerley. Often the sand had been swept away and 'The Shack' would be swinging and teetering on its high-heels. Additional posts would need to be anchored to extend the 'high-heels' so that the entire building (?!) wouldn't collapse.

Did we have fun or did we have fun! Children - and the adults (the laughter after we had gone to bed - would reverberate through the connecting door to us) lived in paradise. Can you imagine children these days putting up with no en-suite, no running water and all sharing the bedroom. Let alone the parents sharing - in the kitchen/living room! We spent our days out on the reef searching for cowries, starfish and all manner of other weird and wonderful treasures. We swam in the clear blue water made safe by the surrounding reef. We went fishing in the dinghy and ate the freshest fish imaginable. We used the squid for bait (now we eat it as calamari!) and we romped and played hidey in the huge mounds of seaweed which came and went each year. We walked across the paddocks to collect a pitcher of fresh milk from the farmer nearby. We climbed Mt NeverRest (no idea of its real name) and we found the best mulberry trees to raid. The day always concluded with us tucked up in bed and my father coming through the wire door with its noisy hinge to tell us terrifying stories (he told me later that he scared himself too - so much for a vivid imagination!) And they were supposed to put us to sleep! Eyes wide open and agog! It was paradise. And it still is. 

Inside - all light and airy - ne'er a lean-to in sight

'The Shack' has been replaced by one of the most beautiful homes imaginable. There are bathrooms aplenty, 15 huge water tanks to supply our needs, french linen adorns the beds and the kitchen has hot and cold running everything (including water!) It is style personified. Choose to eat on the covered verandah out the front or, if it's too windy in the enclosed sandy courtyard, or choose to eat at the dining table. So much choice! Go trawling for squid over the reef out the front while getting some exercise paddling one of the kayaks, tow the boat by tractor down to the water and head out fishing, take a stiff walk to Normie (Normanville) and back before breakfast, watch the sun set over Rapid Bay. Put your feet up and have an espresso - or a wine! Enjoy a fire at night if it's cold. Go exploring the reef or, go shelling all along the beach (those cowries are like gold to find), or take a walk up the nearby creek. Barbeque the freshly caught calamari, whiting, snapper and flathead to name just a few. So let me take you on a journey of  'The Shack' as it is today and you will see why I call it Paradise.

Watch the world go by on the front verandah

An uninterupted view of the sun going down

The Shack 'sitting in the sand' with Mt NeverRest behind and a kayak awaiting out front

Too breezy on the front verandah - then try the inner courtyard

The main bedroom - including a framed photo of the original 'line up' for a swim

Read or sunbake on the deck

Hide in the seaweed mounds, or drive to the far point - Rapid Bay - and take the ferry to Kangaroo Island

The reef exposed - what's hiding under that rock ledge?

Mr Seagull showing you the safe swimming area surrounded by the reef

Let's go fishin

On my visit this time I took over a 'shell' mirror that I had made with shells I had gathered over the years at The Shack.

There's a chinamans hat and a fan shell

The shell frame reflecting some quirky artwork in the 3rd bedroom

The youngest of the 4 children of my 'claytons' family (the family you have when you don't have a family!) is now the custodian with her family (her daughter is one of my God-daughters) of this extraordinary piece of real estate. But I feel it is a part of me as well. I even took my parents ashes from the Cemetery and we scattered them in a 'garden of eden' on the reef and in the nearby sandhills. It's where I'll go when my journey ends. 

At the going down of my sun I'll be in Paradise

 

Easter

With Easter coming up I was reflecting on a two night stay I had a few years ago on Easter Island. I was returning from a wondrous trip to Antarctica. The island was discovered by the Dutch explorer Jacob Roggeveenis on Sunday, April 5, 1722 — which just happened to be Easter that year on the Christian calendar. The island covers 63 square miles and is the most isolated in the world being 2,150 miles west of South America and 1,300 miles east of Pitcairn Island - its nearest inhabited neighbor.

I don't have any of my own pictures on digital so here are some photos of the extraordinary moai which dot the island. They range in height from 4 to 33 feet and in weight to more than 80 tons

Standing proud and tall over the centuries

A treeless island - with moai guarding the entire island

Showing no disrespect, it also made me reflect on the life of our our former Prime Minister - the late Malcolm Fraser who was often depicted by cartoonists as resembling a moai. I watched his funeral with a friend last Friday and was reminded of the statesman he was. Without his involvement in allowing so many Vietnamese boat-people into the country - our society would be a less multi-cultural one. (what a pity we now don't welcome those fleeing atrocities to our shores) And his work with our indigenous people and with Care Australia - just to name a few.   The funeral was touching and very personal - as close to a family farewell as a former Prime Minister can have. In the cartoon below - created many years ago - it somehow seems fitting that it should have a tear in the eye.

Malcolm Fraser - by the cartoonist Prior

Vale Malcolm Fraser - a true statesman 'of the world' - smh.com.au

So after rambling across the globe I wish you a safe and happy Easter break. Don't eat too many chocolates and spare a thought for the chocolate bunnies as you munch through them!

Pardon?! (wooinfo.com)

And getting older this is what we're all up against!!

The Maclura Pomifera

A friend dropped some Maclura Pomifera off to me the other day! It is commonly called the Osage Orange. It doesn't look or taste like an orange and you won't find it at your local farmers market - or any other fruit and vegetable market!

A bowl of Monkey Balls!

It's often called the Hedge Apple or the Horse Apple or the Monkey Ball - with ne're a mention of an orange! When I was 'googling' it I discovered that Martha Stewart was very excited that her sherpa  gardener (!) had just picked her first orange. In her blog (here) she states that 'The Osage orange is native to a small area in eastern Texas, southeastern Oklahoma, and southwestern Arkansas. This region was home to the Native American Osage Indian tribe, hence the name of the fruit'. 

I can't think what it reminds me of!

The mention of Osage takes me back to the extraordinary Pullitza prize-winning play August: Osage County I saw a few years ago starring our very own Robyn Nevin - you can read Alison Croggon's review here. Many of you will have seen the film starring Meryl Streep (see link here). Talk about a disfunctional family - they took it to great heights - but with actors like Robyn and Meryl - well....

Weird 'apple green' oranges!

Anyway enough of that diversion - the Osage Orange is a strange beast. It apparantly makes a terrific hedge. So if you are looking for something quirky to hedge your plot then why not try the Maclura Pomifera!

I'm just happy to have it decorate my kitchen table!

Had you heard of it? Have you seen it? Would you plant it?

 

A rarity - the double-yolker!

Cracking an egg and finding a double-yolker when I was growing up was a pretty common occurance. It was also very exciting (well very is perhaps a little exaggerated) it could be the highlight of the day before heading off to school (I've never been a cereal girl - it's like eating chaff to me!)

A friend co-ordinates a monthly market in the country town of Avenel just over an hour from Melbourne. One of her tasks is to buy eggs from the local supplier and on-sell the most enormous eggs. The difference in the size leaves the largest old supermarket ones for dead. I felt confident that perhaps a good old double-yolker would appear as I ate my way through my supply. But sadly no. 

A gaggle of googie eggs! And nare a double-yolker in sight!

So imagine my surprise recently when I cracked my ordinary morning free-range supermarket egg and there was a double-yolker. I couldn't believe it. They still exist. I enjoyed it with reverence!

Seeing is believing!

Did you know that a double-yolker means someone you know will be getting married or having twins? Or both! As an only child I always wished I was a twin! So much for superstition.

Have you been lucky enough to have a double-yolker recently or are they, like so many things, becoming a thing of the past? 

Road carnage

The powers that be seem to herald a drop in the number of persons killed each year on our roads and yet it doesn't quite tell the whole story. After yet another spate of fatal accidents over the holiday weekend and cyclists being 'doored' (is this a new word in the dictionary?) and pushed into passing trucks it seems that we just ain't getting anywhere. Our roads are more crowded and our public transport system is going backwards and no new train/tram lines are being built. Things are only going to get worse. But that's another story.

Whenever I read that there has been another fatal accident I always think about the number of passengers who may have been seriously hurt but are never mentioned in any official figures. It would seem to me that including those in the list may - just may - make people take a little more care on the roads. Of course many believe they are invincible and take the attitude that it's 'not going to happen to me'. Well hopefully it isn't but we are often in the hands of those on the roads who take that view.  

A reminder along the way

But what to do about it? Well I think South Australia (my home state) goes someway to addressing the issue. When driving in the countryside you often pass a clump of posts. Red posts are for those injured in an accident and black posts are for those who died. What always amazes me is that they are often out in the open road, no bends in the road, no dangerous crossings, no visual reasons for what has happened and changed the lives of those involved and their families and friends forever. This is what you will find throughout the state.

They tell a pretty graphic story

Crash markers also operate in Tasmania (since 2002) where these standard roadside guideposts are placed adjacent to where a fatal or serious injury crash has occurred. I was pleased to read that the South Australian Government did a backflip on its decision to remove roadside crash marker posts from roads in 2014. I was interested to see that Google even publishes a map of the crash markers in SA. See link here

I think they are so much better and safer and less distracting than many that we pass on the roads.

I guess it's easy for me to say - they are not my family (portpirierecorder.com.au)

A long straight road - and just that one tree... (bordermail.com)

To be reminded while we drive is a good thing. But to be reminded of those who received serious injuries is why I am in favour of the red and black markers. What do you think?

A surprise - beautiful Begonias

On a recent trip to Daylesford in Victoria's Spa country we visited the spectacular Wombat Hill Botanic Gardens in order to have lunch at Wombat Hill House the cafe run by renowned two-hatted chef Alla Wolf Tasker (she of The Lake House at Daylesford fame). What a lovely adventure it was. The cafe was charming and the food delicious as one would expect. And the setting was lovely. We sat in the cafe garden and if I closed my eyes and dreamt I could have been in Italy or the South of France. Gravel underfoot, lovely quirky tables and the lushest of lush herb gardens made it the perfect setting on a lovely late summers day. 

A lovely outside garden - I could have been in Europe!

Yes I know - too dark - sorry -  but the inside of the cafe is quirky and interesting

The wonderfully named Wombat Hill Botanic Gardens are a delight with some magnificent old trees and plantings as well as lush green lawns - what a cool delight on hot day. You have a birds-eye-view of Daylesford and the surrounding countryside. 

Lovely Wombat Botanic Gardens

But it was a hothouse of begonias that really 'blew me away'. I must say I have never had much time for the old fashioned begonia. They kindled up images of little old ladies and gents potting their plants in the 'fernery'. But these were just amazing. It made me want to visit the Ballarat Begonia Festival which just happens to be on this weekend (7-9 March 2015). 

The Alf Headland Conservatory - what a sight to come upon

And so a little history. In 1690, Charles Plumier, a Franciscan Monk and botanist, discovered 6 new plants in the West Indies. He dedicated the new genus to his patron, Michel Bergon, who had a strong interest in botany, and was at that time Governor of Haiti in the Antilles. (I bet you didn't know that!)

Beautiful Begonias

The Wombat Botanic Garden collection was started by W. Gascoine, Curator from 1885 - 89 - a Frenchman and experienced horticulturist, who grew tuberous begonias in the Conservatory. The plants were grown again in the 1930's in a new glasshouse. The curator Bill Greville obtained 45 plants from the Ballarat City Council and 30 from Queens Park in Essendon and soon had 250 tubers including a 'lost' one named Daylesford. When Alf Headland was appointed part-time caretaker in 1956 he found tubers in the woodshed. He became an expert in their cultivation. The Conservatory is named after him.   

Gorgeous colours

They look like full blown roses

Sometimes in life one happens upon a lovely surprise. Wombat Hill Botanic Gardens, Wombat Hill House and the amazing Begonias on display was one of those happenstance surprises. So take a drive to Daylesford and spend some time at the Wombat Botanic Gardens, have lunch in the cafe and press your nose to the glass in the Conservatory hothouse - just go between March and May (although I went in February!)