Love you Pop xo
Happy Eight-Oh Dad
Love you Pop xo
Category: home
not Zzzzing, Bzzzing
I feel like I’ve emerged from a big sleep.
But I haven’t been sleeping.
I haven’t been nodding off, I’ve been just temporarily out of action.
My mind though, has been in overdrive and whirring and whirring. It’s been having a huge time, chock full of stuff – crap, weird stuff, joy, confusion, peace, weird stuff – buzzing like the beautiful bumblebees around me in the garden right now.
But as Spring gets into its step, I am starting too as well. I can get up, get out, bloody well brushing off the dirt from the last scrape. The mind is buzzing and ready to clear out the crap.
Just one of those little chunks of life that reminds you (again) that it’s good to have life (again).
Please don’t chuck. I’m sorry for the harp music, the chubby little cherubs and the waffle – sounds like I’ve lost it (again), but I mean it.
And stuff it, they’re flying right above me now with the bumblebees.
a happy new year
We’re about to greet the new year and I want to shout out a G’day from stinking hot Adelaide.
Don’t be fooled by the home-made version of our tree for this year… we’re not in gay Calamiac, we’re down here in Oz. And on the eve of Christmas, our family’s old tree, after 40 years, decided to hang up its boots – so Lilas and I put together a ‘Xmas Tour’! It’s a wonder what you can find in a shed full of old boxes…
And I must say it’s thanks to you, Mum, that we have a ‘tree’ this year. Much to my objections, you put up this tower, festooned with ribbons as part of the decorations for our post-elopement-wedding party. Did I squirm! – wondering what the Frenchies would think… But it was a hit, and thanks to you, it’s come out in full glory again.
Bonnes Fetes and Happy Days for 2014…
picking
Picking at last.
There’s been stops and starts… and now it’s all GO to get the grapes in.
We’re harvesting three weeks later than previous years, but it’s shaping up to be a pretty good ‘recolte’ … there’s a charged atmosphere and smiles all round.
I’ll fill you in on this harvest over a few posts, but here’s a selection of pics from today, in and out of our village.
(you may note some ‘fx’ in the images – my dear old camera is on the blink so what you see are the results of lumping around with a clunky electronic rectangle)
Meanwhile, back in the village…
“The Frenchman”
And two fyi’s… the bathing beau with the Aussie flag is actually French and happens to be our ex-fishmonger… and there are some
Ah Frenchie men. Rummaging through my mum’s cookbooks back in Adelaide this Summer, I spied this gem with a wonderful text on – The Frenchman.
1956. To quote the Browns (Cora, Rose and Bob):
“The Frenchman is informal enough at his plain morning cafe au lait with a brioche or croissant, newspaper and cigaret, but
he approaches both lunch and dinner with sanctified seriousness, a rubbing of hands and tummy, crackling and tucking in of napkins,
anticipatory peeping under dish covers. At table nothing must interfere with his enjoyment,
the slightest interruption is resented and no visitor would presume to butt in on this devout ritual…” (p.277, The Four-in-One Book of Continental Cookery, 1956)
1956. Not much has changed.
…
The Vigneron's Wife 