It’s been an up and down week in The Meadow. The Cocoa Trader has been languishing in Sicily fostering some new business in the Mediterranean, doing some sightseeing and force feeding himself the local food and wine whilst I have been cleaning up after the big storm and trying to get on top of all the orders needed for the extension. Both things are exciting in their own way. Perspective?
The builder boys have been working hard but it has been a case of one step forward and two back this week as reality hit home. The frame, once up, didn’t give me the space for furniture placement that I had envisaged from the plan and after consulting with the window and door company we have rejigged our order necessitating an extra $1000 fee for changing things. It is SO ANNOYING. Let’s face it – who wants to spend a Grand on nothing? Well, nothing obvious, but hopefully something that improves the way we live for the better once done. The small things add up to become either a great way to live or something that doesn’t ever quite work. Seamless is what we are aiming for and something you take for granted unless you don’t have it.
Things are taking shape
The old adage “Be careful what you wish for” became very apparent to me this week. I have admired and lusted after this particular house in Berry ever since they completed their renovations earlier this year. It is an archetypal Berry house, a stylish weatherboard with wrap around verandas and a beautiful garden. My Massage Therapist has her rooms right next door and now I can actually peek across the fence into this house and admire up close their eye for design and great interior design skills as I purposely walk very slowly into my appointment, scanning the horizon for some renovation and decorating ideas. I noticed a beautiful annexe in the same style at the bottom of their garden and it had a hand painted sign saying “Pixie” dangling on the front. I thought maybe it was available as a holiday rental or similar and mentioned it to Sarah incase she knew anything about it. Her answer shocked and saddened me when she said the owner’s son whose nickname was Pixie, had committed suicide half way through their renovation and that was their public recognition of his memory, a studio in his honour. After being a little envious of their house I realised how lucky I am to have my little family in one piece and that you never know what people’s stories are and you never can judge a book by it’s cover. Every time I fret about a design decision with our extension I’m aware it doesn’t really matter in comparison to the happiness of my family. Perspective.
I have had a bird orientated week. The corellas have once again decided to roost every night in a copse of trees in a paddock of the dairy farm. There must be some trees providing them with some sort of treat or something similar because there are literally hundreds of them flying over us around 4pm every day to rest like white baubles in the chosen trees.
I found this little fella, a baby butcher bird, on the ground under a tree in our garden, a sad statistic after the big storm. So many branches down and our veranda furniture blown into the hedges and into the next property in the gale force winds.I still feel so awful when things dont go well for the animals. I was awake last night at 3am worrying because an injured pigeon was found in our garden yesterday wandering around hopefully pecking at things, little realising his days were numbered as he couldn’t fly away. It looks like he may have been attacked by a hawk. He is a homing pigeon as he has little tags on his legs and apparently they get attacked in the air on a regular basis – goodness knows where he has come from. I thought about popping it in with the chickens but then I remembered how awful they had been to the new chooks and could only imagine how mean they would be to an entirely different species. I tried to feed it some chicken food but it seemed impervious to it and I have no idea if it will survive another night in our cold garden. The cocoa trader also used to be a pigeon racer and I’m hoping he will know what to do with it when he returns home tomorrow. I asked our farmer neighbour for advice and he merely offered to put it out of it’s potential misery and the builders just laughed when I said maybe it would live to fly another day. I’m really not sure I’m cut out for this country life sometimes. Perspective.
The Long Weekend to celebrate Queen Lizzies 90th birthday was picture perfect. Blue skies, lots of sunshine and a perfect weekend for The Shoalhaven Winter Wine Festival. As Cam was away I was happy to potter in the garden and address some of those jobs that remained undone due to the wind and rain of the previous weeks. Sam came down for the weekend and Bailey was overjoyed to have someone to play with. She followed him around like a shadow and dropped me like a hot potato. When he joined some friends at the wineries for the afternoon she literally sat outside his bedroom door waiting for his return.
I used the wonderful weather to get on top of my garden duties. The roses just haven’t been able to work out what has been going on this year. So warm and sunny they had continued blossoming way past their usual time and here we were at the traditional time to give them a hard prune and they were still in full flower! I put together my last vase for the season and chopped them back hard – spiking my arms a gazillion times and now I look like I have some sort of infectious disease with scabs galore all over my arms. Four barrowfuls of offcuts are now in the firepit and we have a much tidier looking flower bed.
The last of the summer roses
Well I’m off to Sydney to meet up with the bookclub girls and do an IKEA run. I also have to bring the youngest son and heir his birth certificate as he washed his jeans AND his passport by accident. It wouldn’t usually matter but he has won an incentive trip with work and leaves in 4 weeks for Mauritius. A late flurry of paperwork and hopefully he will be on his way! The jetlagged one will have the house to himself and hopefully by the time I return he will be well rested and cheerful again! A 36 hour trip to get home is the price you have to pay for a European jaunt unfortunately.
Perspective from a carbohydrate point of view.