herbs

Ruby red tomato crushed and smeared with abandon onto paper thin dough, milky buffalo mozzarella turned molten under the grill's harsh glare, and basil haphazardly scattered to complete this foodie's still life.

Thyme's polygamous ways marrying with chicken, glossy amber stock and white wine and then again with musky mushrooms and generous dollops of double cream.

Lavender crushed between palms and scalded with boiling water; the fragrant oil jumping forth from it's tiny cocoon and imbuing the air and the palette with it's delicacy. Mint often joining her for a languish in this heady hot tub.

Dill. Wispery thin fronds tucked into whole rainbow trout amidst lemon slices and baked til the house smells like heaven. Crusty bread close at hand to mop up the moreish lemony, aniseed piqued juices. A glass of vino not obligatory but most, most welcome.

Steph x

Vintage silver spoons picked up for tuppence at the op shop where hammered between a towel. Such fun! Metal letter stamps and a darn good thwacking brought words to life on the smooth disks. 

Joining in with these lovelies 

the bush

In our little home when all are sleeping and crickets chirp melodically; rhythmically, we talk. Conversations roll effortlessly from day to day this and that and meander with much laughter and sometimes tears. We chat of life and love. We voice our dream of packing up all our worldly possessions in cardboard boxes, heaving them onto rumbling trucks and moving away. With each talk our words paint more delicate detail in our vision somehow almost willing it into existence.

Sometimes we yearn for land; open grassy hillocks for rambling and rolling, thickets of bushland tempered with cooling and ever changing creeks, thick callousey trees to wrap our limbs about and tangle our hearts in.Then other times we long to wake to the sound of gentle waves tickling the morning shore. To daily feel sand and salty bubbles between our toes and to come alive under the spell of the ocean. The common thread is always nature. We want to live close to this earth.

Come what may, the time is not right for this dream to blossom. With each beautiful chat we wrap it up carefully and tuck it away where time and neglect can neither wither nor harden it. Some day we will peel back its layers and read in depth this blueprint for our life together. Some day....but not this day.

Today we must choose to bloom where we are planted. Today we must pack little baskets with fruit and water. We must don walking shoes and hats and head to places of foliage; of nature. Tucked amongst sprawling estates of houses, hidden behind service stations and takeaway curry restaurants there are little slices of green worlds. Places where the air is permeated with the distinct smell of the bush, where cicadas ring in your ears and there are tracks that call for one foot in front of the other with no real destination but a chance to just be.

Steph x

We contacted our local council for information about bushland reserves and national parks in our suburban area. We were astounded to discover how many there were right under our noses. 

4/52

A portrait of my babies, once a week, every week."

Bijou - Joy bursts out of her tiny frame when she dances. And she dances often.

Remy -  Dusk shadows and my sleepy boy ready to welcome the night.

Joining in with the beautiful Jodi.

Steph x

little things

 

  

                                                                               Little things that make our world. Things I want to capture, tuck away and peek at another day....and smile.

I'm not sure what is prettier, the delicate tea strainer or it's shadow.

Taking some wee foxes out for a potter.

Cutting up an embroidered tea towel to make a kindy bag for my little bird.

Mr. Squiggle. My beloved practically begged to bring this one home. Bless that man x

Cherry {playdough} pie.

A crumpled paint swatch found in the depths of one of her pockets. Blue of course.

Some late afternoon stitching for my poppet's lunchbox. She's off to kindy next week and my heart keeps leaping up into my throat at the thought. I will miss her so....but oh such adventures she wil have.

Joining in with the beautiful Em and the lovely Lou.

Steph x

mushroom garland

 

An Aladdin's cave.
Some fossicked champagne corks.
Pausing for a second..."who drank these bubbles, what were they celebrating...love perhaps?"
Lashings of paint; first the white, then the cherry red.
Catching my breath at her nimbleness with a brush...when did she grow so much?
Sleepy baby boy and stolen time alone on the grass just my girl and me.
Many tiny spots. Much fantastical story making.
Loops of twine.
A perfect hanging place.

Steph x

Joining in with these creative souls.

wisps of nature

I have been moving our world about the last few weeks. Slowing renewing the spaces we gather in, find solitude in, and nourish our bodies and minds in.  Humble pieces have been added. Those no longer tugging at heart strings have been removed with neither regret or guilt. Lustrous timber in both raw and polished forms graces each room beckoning touch and imbuing the aesthetics with warmth and honesty. There are bursts of yellow, burnt umber and rust. Delicate pieces from far off lands steeped in hazy memories peek out from nook and cranny.

I have been viewing each item with a quizzical brow. Picking up trinkets, moving them where the sunlight catches them best sending rainbow prisms dancing. Eyelids fixed in a thinking stare; head cocked. Embracing nomadic ways and letting trimmings waltz about our home resting with different partners depending on the season; depending on the mood.

Wisps of nature bring the wonder and beauty of the natural world indoors and ever close.  A single stem bearing now papery violet flowers; it's stamens crisp and fragile. Plumes from winged creatures simultaneously strong and rigid yet soft and yielding. Gentle gatherings some collected with abandon and little thought or connection; others resonating with deep sentimentality. Some will be tucked away to rummage through on a rainy December day. Others will be returned to their place of origin be it earth or branch or wind.

Shedding layers of skin and returning to my heart's calling. Wandering this earth with intention and a sharp eye; beauty is all around. Letting my world breathe slowly in and out. Hearing her do so...and listening.

Steph x

So very inspired by Pia Jane Bijkerk and Sibella Court I fashioned these vintage bottles into homes for our snippets.  My eyes are drawn to them often; my lips curl into a smile.

yum cha

First a narrow arcade illuminated in fluorescent light and flanked by little shops. There are windows full of golden cats waving merrily at us.  Then a steep red carpeted staircase with gigantic crab tanks at the summit becoming ever visible with each step. Finally a riot of sounds, sights and smells invade the senses. Yum Cha.

Little people mesmerised by dragonfly like waitresses and the clickety-clackety trolleys they manoeuvre, spruiking their wares. They dart here, and there, and back here again. Deft hands and quick tongues advertise intriguing morsels; delicate dumplings, bok choy and streamed pork buns. We answer yes many times and our round table quickly fills to brimming with little bamboo baskets bearing all manner of curious delights.

The babies explore chop sticks and sup green tea from tiny porcelain beakers. We snaffle up the last of the Peking duck almost vulture like as our wee people devour all before them greedily and with relish. There is much chatter, much laughter, and many effervescent questions.

A Chinese supermarket with it's rainbow wrapped offerings beckons and we potter through this other world for some time, lost in wonder. Traditional medicines, bean curd sheets, rambutans in syrup. Dried lotus leaves, pungent shrimp paste and pickled turnip. All encased in colour and adorned by elegant and graceful characters.  I find myself in awe of this complex and somewhat mystical means of communicating. Such an ancient language form steeped in history with its intricate flicks and strokes. It is a thing of beauty.

Our senses are thoroughly satiated with a cornucopia of stimuli. Today we have thrown open the doors of this wild world to our babies as best we can from our suburban existence. Again our adventures have us choosing the quirky trail, the meal we can't pronounce, the sparkly, twangy parts of life that make our blood pump faster. We will show our little people this grand world albeit for now through the windows of a Corolla, not a 747. We will introduce them to its magnificent people.

With full bellies and warm hearts we head home. We will come again soon.

Steph x

little things - her party

                                                                      Little things that make our world. Things I want to capture, tuck away and peek at another day....and smile.

A Mumma made party dress. Hoping to open a little online shop full of such lovelies very soon.
Dressing Ms. Dolly Varden.
Milady in her chilly boudoir.
Gifts for our friends; dolly pegs and all the bits and bobs to transform them into wee little people.
Apple juice jelly with blueberries and yogurt...and paper umbrellas of course!
Dress ups.
Opening beautiful, thoughtful gifts.
I made these for her very first birthday party and had long forgotten them. Made me well up when I found them.
On her vintage sheet "red" carpet....and my great Nana's cake stand.
My girl....she crept out of bed late on Saturday night as I was icing her cake. Her eyes lit up when she saw Dolly Varden and the smile just grew and grew. A giant cuddle followed.

Thank-you so very much to all our beautiful friends and family who helped to celebrate Bijou's 4th birthday. It was a gentle, bright and happy morning. So much love.

Joining in with the beautiful Em and the lovely Lou.

Steph x