Good things this morning

Rain on the nasturtium leaves.

I found my  purple iris in bloom.

The lilac I picked from over a neighbour's fence

while walking the dogs this morning.

My new set of tin badges.

The artichoke forest. It is so gloriously huge, the leaves stand taller than I am, and it is getting huger.

And breakfast.

Breakfast isn't a thing, it is an event. I got up slowly this morning and I pottered and I made the bread and walked the dogs in the rain and I visited the iris and the artichokes and the nasturtium.

I had passionfruit to put on the yoghurt and Yin got me a cuppa from Espresso. I took a very long time over brekky, and I wore the green beetle badge, the one with the red eyes.

Spring vegetables

A basket of globe artichokes and rosemary from the garden.

I forgot to look into the artichokes this week so some of the artichokes had become a little larger than I prefer, but it is spring  and everything is wildly growing.I cooked the artichokes with lamb in a slow simmered stew.

 

Delicious.

And these are not dandelions, they are yam daisies or murnongs, the staple food of the first people to live here. Cattle and sheep and agriculture and mining have just about wiped out a plant that once covered the basalt plains.

A friend who cares for a native vegetation reserve to the south west gave me these and they are flourishing. Next year I'm letting them out of the pot and into the garden.

Good timing

I want to try knitting cotton this summer, and luckily my neighbour wanted to clear out some stuff including a few balls of cotton yarn. 
I have three baskets of knitting yarn now - but I'm not hoarding. I am finishing off the blanket! One basket will be empty very soon.

Pick me up

A tough meeting tonight. I'm drinking home-made lemon and ginger tea so I have the energy to deal with it,

then I'll splash on some home-made orange-water for some extra zing.

And when I come home I'll work off the discouragement by reading about sensible, happy  people doing great work overseas and in Ballarat too

And I'll stop being so peevish and cheer up.

About time too, say the doggie people in the house. 

Grey and gray

After years of playing with the brightest colours I could find,  I'm turning to white, quiet greys and shadowy colours. Cloudy, rainy day colours. This evening a harvest of recycled old shirts, cut up and washed, is drying inside.

Stone

Water

Clouds

White wool blankie

Lovely white wool, soft springy garter stitch, a luxurious pile of pure white woollen pieces. I've been knitting these off and on for a couple of years. You can always find white wool (and navy blue wool) in any Op shop.

This evening I began to sew together all the knitted squares. I'm going to have the light, white, wool blankie I've always wanted for coolish summer nights.

Then this niggling thought - what if I edged it all round with that long strip of red and white cotton gingham I found recently?

It wouldn't be pure white any longer.

Mmmm.

White iris

This morning was crispy with frost, and my white iris are blooming. I found these old fashioned iris flowering along the roadside in Piggoreet, and brought a couple of corms home. It has taken two years for them to settle in and flower. Maybe they like this colder spring. My deep purple and my amber-gold bearded iris haven't a bud on them yet.

A hundred years ago Piggoreet was a thriving township of several hundred families, with schools, pubs, churches and shops.  There is nothing left now, just paddocks and here and there some scattered old fruit trees and remnants of old gardens.

Near the town is a water race built of rocks by Chinese miners, snaking like a stone dragon along the creek valley.
A hundred years or so ago, someone brought these snowy flowers to the new mining town and planted them and loved them. Now they are  flowering  for me.