... on 'Well. This is sudden!"

I'm glad I could lay my hand on this little item, this morning. It's something I always take with me travelling. A St. Christopher medal (because of a Tom Waits song more than anything else), a silver bell given to me by a dear family friend the first time I ever ventured overseas by myself (which sounds reassuringly like the bell my cat Kubrick used to wear on her collar, and has been responsible for many early-morning grimacing in quiet shared-dorm youth hostels), and a junk metal milagros depicting a heart. Plus some safety pins for when my pants split, of course. (It's happened!)

I'm glad I found this little item, as it means my packing is complete. I'm leaving for a completely unexpected (and therefore somehow unbelieveable!) trip to France with my Ma and brother. I'll be away for five weeks. I've put my Etsy store 'on vacation' (although if you live in Brisbane you can find some of my plaster ampersands and bird's egg things in the In.cube8r store in The Valley) and when I return it'll be all go with an Etsy store name change, and, all going well, feverish preparation for my first participation in the BrisStyle Indie Twilight Market in King George Square on the evening of Friday 26th October. Hope to see you there!

Hang on, St Christopher!

... on Thing #4: Ruan Hoffmann

Last year, C and I were in New York for a week, and we stumbled across this installation of 'Much Love Me' by Ruan Hoffmann. It was in the gallery in the Anthropologie store at the Rockefeller Plaza, and I was much taken with it.

I gazed at the intricately-painted plates, admired the skillful installation of so many fragile objects, took some photos, and I went on my way, feeling enriched. Sometimes an artwork just speaks to your soul. This one spoke to mine.

Recently I was having a look at the Anthropologie website, as you do when you catch yourself wishing there was a store here in Australia. Wistful browsing through the homewares. Then... a sudden intake of breath. Click. The Ruan Hoffmann plates. For sale. Some of them, at least... there weren't many left. Click! Click! One of them was destined to come to live with me, it seemed!

It arrived, voluminously packaged, and safe. It came via C's friend Dylan in Seattle, as Anthropologie would only ship to the mainland US. It's made a very long journey, this plate, from its origin in South Africa, and I can't believe it's still in one piece!

Welcome, Ruan Hoffmann plate. I'm so glad you've come to live with me. I hope you don't mind but I'm going to hook a plate hanger on you and look at you every day.

I never thought I'd be the sort of person who would ever buy a plate hanger.

... on lurking, and noisiness.

I've been lurking about in the front garden, as it's been a bit noisy out the back.

The everlasting daisies that I planted last year have finally decided to do something spectacular. 

Inspired by this post over at Bungalow Bliss, I looked carefully for bees. I was delighted to find a little pack of native bees rummaging in the poppies. I've been thinking about getting a hive of native bees, but if they're here somewhere already that might not be such a good idea. I don't want to start a bee war!

Just about everything I planted in the herb garden next to the driveway is bolting to seed! It's looking very lush, and I'm loving the look of the emerging seed heads. The dill makes an incredible cut flower, don't you think?

And the noisiness? Well, you know how C told me the roof would be on by the end of the week? It was!

A few days ago a chap I've never seen before walked by with his dog when I was checking the letterbox. He said "I hope your new shed isn't going to shade your lovely garden out the back!" I assured him it wouldn't, and I really liked that he called it a shed!

... on an exciting thing, underway.

A while back I mentioned a possible solution to the how can I not take over the whole house when I am making something problem, and I'll admit, it has become a problem. Before we moved in, I had envisioned that it would be fine for me to spread out on the kitchen bench or the dining table, and it's turned out not to work so well. The whole house gets covered in a fine layer of plaster dust, and I've been having to pack everything away because someone is coming to dinner quite regularly. More often than not I wouldn't get it all out again the following day, or even the following week.

So, the solution. This house is small, and C had planned from the start that perhaps he'd build an extension to add another bedroom and bathroom. Substitute the word bedroom with studio and watch my enthusiasm levels!

So, what's this? A little building with a skillion roof containing one bathroom, and one large room. Entry is via a full glass door that opens out onto the existing deck. There'll be a tall louvred window in each end, one inside the bathroom. The main east-facing window will be very large, and set low, at bench height. The subway-tiled bathroom will contain a full-sized bath, and a lab sink instead of a basin, for washing brushes out in. A tank set out the back will more than double our water-holding capacity, and it'll block the view of both the high-tension power lines and the very ordinary houses that you can currently see from our living room.

Two weeks ago, the excavator arrived, and things started happening fast. Now, C assures me, the roof should be on by the end of this coming week.

Photobombed by three Pekin tails.

I really don't believe my own eyes, nor the notion that I'm going to be able to fill it with plaster dust. Pinch me!

... on why the Ekka was good.

I flew solo to the Ekka this year. This meant I could linger for an embarrassingly long time in the poultry shed, and leave in a couple of hours once I'd had enough. Perfect!

For a while, I had the Pekin Bantams to myself. I was interested to compare them to my ladies (I think Shirley could be a real beauty on the show circuit... if I was into that kind of thing. Wait...!) and noticed that the exhibited Pekins seemed much larger than mine. Then I realised that they'd all been blowdried! which could account for it.

This First-Prize-winning Birchen lady seemed desperate for some human contact, so I gave her a good scratch behind the ear while I congratulated her.

The Pekin roosters were such handsome, charismatic-looking fellows. I missed Boyd.

Over in the Budgie section the ribbons on the tiny cages were so voluminous that they sometimes obscured the winners within.

Although I spent quite some time with the birds, I did have an ulterior motive for visiting the Ekka on Monday: it was long-haired cat judging day. I had the absolute delight of meeting this Maine Coon, Sebastian. I have admired him via the website of his breeder for some years, so I was extra excited to finally hold one of his (enormous!) white paws in my hand.

Apart from the dissatisfaction of not being permitted to stuff this cat in my bag and make off with him, it was a thoroughly good half-a-day!

... on new potatoes.

Yesterday I noticed that one of my Sebago plants had quite suddenly gone all yellow. There was only one plant left in that bag (the others having been lost to rot), and I figured as it had gone all yellow it wasn't going to be doing any more producing. I didn't have great expectations, to be honest.
I got a surprise.

650 grams (or about 1.6 pounds) of Sebago potatoes!
A modest, but encouraging first harvest, and I have another five bags of robust-looking plants still growing heartily away.
So, I now have an empty potato bag. I've never tried growing sweet potatoes in bags, but it could be time to plant out these little slips I've had growing on the windowsill. Let the sweet potato experiment begin!

... on an unexpected parcel.

There was a thump outside the front gate yesterday. C stuck his head out the door.
"Are you expecting a parcel?" he asked.
No, I wasn't expecting a parcel, but it was addressed to me, so I opened it up.
Here's what I found.

My friend Beck, who is The Most Excellent Thrifter In The World, had been making a collection of art and craft supplies for me. I laughed, feeling touched, as I know her three-year-old daughter would be able to have a fine old time with all this! Then I was silenced, for how did she know?

How did she know that I've been feeling a bit glum in the creative department? That lately, the lack of any of my usual upbeat and productive-looking 'making stuff' blog posts isn't just because I've been too busy to do them?

How did she know that just that morning I'd had a conversation with C about this very thing, and that he'd suggested just doing something, anything, was better than nothing? 

How did she know that I've been craving colour, but that I've been feeling too creatively lethargic to do anything about it?

How did she know that my brain feels good when my fingers have got paint on them, paint with the sort of rich pigments that stain your nails for weeks?

How did she know that the usual cure for the kind of creative funk I've found myself in is to just sit down and do some no-pressure creating? Not to develop new stuff for sale, not to try and build up stock, but to play and experiment and just See What Happens?

Just how did she know all of that?

I guess the answer is she didn't, but by hell, it's times like these I wonder whether the universe IS in fact all set up to give us exactly what we need when we need it. Freaky.

A thousand million thankyous, Beckster!