It takes all kinds

Meet Maeve…

She leaned up against me today, cat style. I had to grab for support. She almost toppled me! She was being affectionate. She loves a tickle behind the ears. She knows me.

I had finished my working day and was going back to harvest a leek or two to go with dinner. Close to the pigs, one of the moms stopped to chat. I was pointing out the pigs and was about to suggest she goes around the side to see them better when I saw an odd-coloured pig. I looked more carefully. There were children in the pig pen!

I raced up the side yelling to the mom to get her kids out of the pig pen. Two moms, actually. They’d let their little ones, no older than 5, I’d say, climb over the wood and diamond-mesh fence into the pens. About a foot or so away from the fence is the electric fence - two lengths of electrified white ‘ribbon’. So, apart from the fact that the kids could have been belted by the fence, there was the pigs themselves…

Maeve is friendly, but stroppy. Sophie is more laid back, but she has her 8 piglets in there and isn’t very tolerant of strangers. One day I went into the pen dressed differently (I didn’t have work clothes on) and she charged. Luckily, she realised who it was as she came closer. We’re talking serious pig tonnage here! Ever see a bull charge? Same thing, except on a set of very short, very powerful legs. The piglets are no longer tiny. They tend to run, en masse, to see what new food is heading their way.

What on earth was going through the minds of the two moms that they’d let their little girls in polka-dot skirts and tights climb the fence into the pig pen??? The mind boggles! We’re talking here about two hefty adult pigs plus 8 hefty porkers, a vast amount of mud and an electric fence. After yelling to get the kids out, I pointed out that the fence was there for a reason… to keep pigs and kids separate!

Still… what the heck? Really? I wonder if it’s the same mentality that gets kids injured at zoos and the poor animals get blamed.

Technorati Tags: pigs,children,zoo,animals,fences

Making friends with the dark

…0r at least being accepting of the dark.

I live about as close to paradise as one can get. Yes, there are things I’d love to improve our situation with, but otherwise, we’re in a good place, surrounded by lovely people. Still, there are times when I look out at the bright sunshine and all I see is the dark within me.

Art by Chris Spring 

The dark is heavy and impenetrable. It actually pushes that bright sunshine aside. Smiles become work. laughter is forced up from a memory of the feeling. I walk with my head bowed. “What’s wrong?” asked a colleague. “Nothing,” say I. “Where’s the bubbly, smiley Corrianne I’ve come to know?” she asked. “I shot her,” was my reply. I smiled at her. “She’ll be back tomorrow.” I hope.

You see, it gets comfortable in the dark. I’ve always loved the dark. I think, for me, it’s a time when the excess of stimuli that comes with the day is quietened. I have to be careful, though, that the dark doesn’t overtake me.

This dark is different… definitely not comfortable. It’s a time when I stare at beauty and I hurt. It’s a time when click through my friends online and I’m tempted to just close my accounts and cop out of it all. It’s a time when I sit, looking inward and what I see makes me cry. My thoughts are uncomfortable with sharp edges jabbing my mind.

I go off to cook dinner, not because I want to, but because it’s a requirement of relative normality. I put on some fighting music, something to stir the beast in me. Some songs make me cry over the onions (I knew there was a reason I like cooking with onions!) and some had me belting out defiantly against the world and all that ailed me.

Yes, tomorrow I’ll let the ‘other me’ back. I might even let her play a while.

Technorati Tags: depression,down,funk,music,mood

Retrospective

Last week just whizzed by. I tried to catch it and stall its rushing, but my efforts were in vain.  It was a busy week and, at the same time, a very quiet week.

Let me first introduce you to Crocky and his harem. Crocky is our highly temperamental feather duster…. sorry… silkie rooster.  We have a sign on the fence warning kids (especially the grown kind who have offspring) that he can be mean and has drawn blood on a few occasions. To date, we have no data on his attacks and can’t decide what makes him go for the jugular on some days, but not others.

His harem is delightful though. We have Rhode Island hens and Barnevelders. The one Barnevelder is currently broody and warming a nest of prospective feather-bundles. We have speculated at length what they’d end up looking like. A mix of Rhode Island or Barnevelder and a white silkie rooster who carries his brain on his beak? They’ll be interesting if nothing else!


Meet my glove’s nemesis…. mustard seed. The mustard is used here primarily as a green manure. We let it grow, then chop it straight into the soil where it was planted. Picking the seed was bad enough. It’s sticky and pulls at your hair (really tall plant). Then getting the seed off the stalks. Can you see the prickles? They’re little splinters that are out to get you. The mustard shredded a few pairs of gloves already. I’m no fan of the plant, but I guess it’s good.


Some wanted to know where I live. I have to be discreet here. We’re guests, after all. The driveway leads right up to the main house. The second-storey bay window is our day room. We look down on the driveway. If you have a moment, do find the first episode of “The Tudors” on Youtube. At the start of the episode, the horse comes galloping up that very same driveway! Yes, it was filmed here. “Camelot” was another that was filmed here. In fact, the list of films and TV shows that were filmed on this estate is pretty long.


Another view… in this case, the first floor (second, to Americans) bay window is our apartment.

Last night, we had our staff party at the Beach pub in Greystones. Ah, it was lovely! As per all drinking occasions, best friends were made and life-long bonds were forged (whether they’ll be remembered in cold daylight is another matter entirely *grins*). We drank, we sang, we danced, we yelled over the band and missed most of what was said (at least, I did). In short, we had loads of fun.

I love my job. I love where I live (not just the house… the place… the town… the region). I love the people. I love my life. It is good :)

Technorati Tags: ireland,mustard,silkie,barnevelder,rhode-island,chickens,pub,party

A fowl food rant

I don’t like gooseberries. Really! Ok, I like gooseberries, but the ingrates grow on thorny bushes that defy my attempts to keep them alive. There I was, picking off sawfly larvae and getting repeatedly stabbed by a nest of thorns. Right. Keep your durned larvae. See if I care. I’ll eat the raspberries and blackberries instead. So there!

I think there’s a food conspiracy out today. It started with chicken food. Or duck food… whichever way you prefer to look at it. Frank suggested the chickens may benefit and even like some duckweed from the longponds. I met Sayo and promised her an adventure that may or may not involve swimming. She cautiously agreed… what a good sport she is!

View of the longponds from my bedroom

I must point out at this stage, that Sayo is petit and does everything with Japanese efficiency. I am probably the direct opposite. Leaning over the water, noting that the local hare has dug a cave system near the edge - at least, I assume it’s him - I saved myself from going for the promised swim in the chilly morning air by doing a sort of dive-roll off to the side. I looked at my pitiful collection of duckweed and Sayo’s full bucket and decided that the chickens weren’t all that hungry anyway.

And no, I took no photos - for those who have the temerity to even suggest it. Hmph!

The chickens greeted us with the usual friendly, gentle “crrrrrck…. crrrrrrck” when they saw the buckets. See, they’re used to bread and cake treats in the mornings. The stroppy little silkie rooster just squawked and crowed and flapped and flustered as he always does. We tossed the duckweed to them. They rushed over, looked at it, looked at us and… “What is this?? Where’s our bread? Our cake? You expect us to eat vegetables??”  There’s nothing like a flock of chickens standing at the fence with heads cocked, looking at you as though you’ve deprived them of their very sustenance. Keep in mind that they do have regular chicken food, so they’re not starving. All the animals here are very spoiled. I caved. I sprinkled some cake over the ‘vegetables’ and they demolished it. Spoilt brats!

The rest of my day was the usual… totally different from any previous day. Cleared mud off the electric fences in the pig pen - we have determined pigs. Jurgis went chasing Lisa and her piglets twice - she’s become quite the escape artist. He also fixed up a nice brush cutter for us for the walled garden. That’ll help in our war against the thistle and nettle. I spent a fair time cleaning the soil off our drying garlic, then harvested some calendula flowers for drying. That will make a nice salve once I’ve sourced some beeswax. I need to have a chat with our bee-keeper on the subject.

Now back to fowl food. What is with this world that they sell ready-trussed chickens that still need to be plucked? If I wanted to pluck my own chicken, I wouldn’t buy it from the supermarket! The thing had so much feather, it about flew out of the fridge! Either way, I plucked (grrr!) the chicken, then spatchcocked it and roasted it in wine with freshly-picked tarragon and our own garlic. Very tasty! All in all, not a bad day and no, I’m not going to blog the fact that I was carrying my dinner to the table and managed to drop the plate-full of food on the carpet. Can we say emergency cleanup?

Technorati Tags: food,chicken,duckweed,gooseberries

Wisps of thought

Words burst forth
from the bubble of my thoughts
Whirling, dancing
Floating on the air of my mind
Teasing me
with their will-o-wisp ways
Nay, said they!
You'll not pin us down on paper

You may well gather, from this bit of wordy drivel, I'm struggling to pin thoughts down long enough to blog them. As it is, I started on this a few hours ago and all the lovely prose and words of wisdom I had in my head are gone...... *empty*

Needing therapy for the shopping therapy

I don't have a picture for this blog. I looked for a picture. Apparently no one else suffers with shopping. How odd. Wait... this one should do...

 

Now I can do online shopping. I think that is, in all probability, because it's not here.Otherwise, besides shopping for food (as opposed to starvation), I avoid shopping like the plague. Here's why....
I had just finished with the first class of the day. This was in town. There wasn't enough time to go home, but there was too much time to go on to the next student. I have put off buying some necessities for years, so I decided to pull myself up by the bootstraps and just do it. I needed some underwear and socks.
First stop, a shop where I've had success before. Should be a breeze. I looked in. Two men manning the cash register and no fitting rooms. Here they think nothing of trying on bras over their clothing in full view of the street. Not for me, thanks, so I turned my attention to the 'socks' or foot-stockings. I hate pantihose, so I wear ankle-highs. The "Posso ajudar?" came, as expected. "Yes. I'm looking for the thicker stockings, as I walk a lot and want them to last longer than a day at a time." He took me to the thicker stockings. Great! Then I looked in dismay at the white, black, maroon and dark brown colour range. "Don't you have beige or something at least remotely my skin tone?" I asked, not expecting much, as this is, after all, Brazil. "Oh but this brown would look lovely!" Uh... yes... I looked down at my pale tan shoes and even paler skin tone *sigh* He spent ten minutes trying to get me to buy the brown. I must point out at this point that the brown was a dark brown... very dark. No thanks.

I kid you not. The first time I went into a lingerie shop in Brazil, they were quite nonplussed that I refused to try on my wares in the front shop. I watched a woman try on a corset over her dress with hysterical laughter building up. It took all my self-control not to gawp at her.
I gave up and went to the next shop, a lingerie shop. This should be fun (not). A friendly girl asked if she could help. I explained the bra sizing I'm used to... the kind where the cups are different to the backstrap, so you can get something that actually fits. Here, if they don't try to sell you small, medium or large, they sell size 20 through to 54, but with no cup size. The girlie looked confused, then looked at me, pulled out a bra and said, "This should fit you beautifully." I looked dubiously at the offering. I think not, but I decided to prove a point. I went in, poured myself into the synthetic scrap and said, "You'd better look at this." It was patently obvious that it wasn't even a remote fit. She tried one size up and one size down, then a different make. No go. She called the owner, who grimly (she was a rather grim lady) advised me to try yet another set. Nothing doing. "But this one will fit you!" she demanded. Oh no it wouldn't. I peered at my squished appendages. She thought it looked just fine. I ended with saying that, believe it or not, I know my body and I know just what would happen if I tried to move in those. The lack of shock absorbers on most buses would leave me embarrassingly compromised.

*Note... this blog was never finished. I'm going through my old blogs and decided to publish it, as it had me chuckling :)

Technorati Tags: brazil,humour,shopping

Granola Bars

 

Technorati Tags: recipe,granola,health,snack

 

Category:
Baking

Servings:
18 bars

Description:
Because I'm usually out on the road at mealtimes, keeping up with edibles that are light, can be carted around easily and eaten on the run can be a challenge.

The cheaper snack alternatives out there are high carb, high fat, often stale and frequently messy, so I decided to try my own granola bars. I love granola : ) For me, a small yoghurt and a granola bar is enough for lunch. I have no control over the quality and ingredients of the bought bars.

This recipe is fantastic! I don't remember where I got it
25 minutes to make (if you have the fruit pre-chopped)

Ingredients:
* 1 egg
* 1 egg white
* 3/4 cup sugar
* 1/2 cup packed brown sugar
* 3 tbsp canola oil
* 1 tsp vanilla
* 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
* 1 tsp baking soda
* 1/2 teaspoon salt
* 1 1/2 cups rolled oats
* 1/2 cup diced apples, raisins, or dried fruit (optional)

My own variations:
Used half a cup of chopped cashew nut, half a cup of mixed dried fruit, half a cup of coconut, and 1 tablespoon honey (as I didn't have enough brown sugar)

Directions:
Coat a 13" X 9" baking pan with non-stick spray and set aside.
Mix the egg, egg white, sugar and brown sugar until smooth.
Add the oil and vanilla; mix 10 to 15 seconds.
Add flour, baking soda and salt. Mix until just blended. Add oats and incorporate.
Mix in extra ingredients (apples, raisins, etc) with a fork.
Transfer the dough to the prepared pan; press into pan with wet fingers.
Bake at 350F for 25 to 30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the centre comes out clean. Cool in the pan.

Note: I didn't leave mine to cool in the pan, as my oven bakes really hot and it looked like it was beginning to burn. I cut the pieces in the pan and turned them out onto a granite slab to cool. They're perfect!

Dream… Live!

(A repost)

A young man on the verge of his dreams passed this onto me. Thank you, Ohara!
...

Technorati Tags: inspiration

...

It's never too late. The time is Now!

A sheep thing

This post was a classic case of ‘following the herd’… a blog post that everyone has passed around at some point in their blogging. I found it amusing. I still do. Need a chuckle? That is, aside from those moments when you nod and think “Yes"!”

* I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.
* Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.
* I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.
* There is great need for a sarcasm font.
* How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?
* Was learning cursive really necessary?
* Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.
* I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.
* Bad decisions make good stories.
* You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.
* I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to.
* "Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this -ever.
* I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Damnit!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voicemail. What did you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run away?
* I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.
* I keep many people's phone numbers in my phone just so I can look like I know many people.
* I think the freezer deserves a light as well.
* I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid " routing option.
* Sometimes, I'll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and suddenly realize I had no idea what the heck was going on when I first saw it.
* I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.
* I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.
* How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they said?
* I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a roadhog from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters!
* Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Trousers? Trousers never

Technorati Tags: humour,fun,funny

get dirty, and you can wear them forever.
* Is it just me or do high school kids get dumber & dumber every year?
* There's no worse feeling than that millisecond you're sure you are going to die after leaning your chair back a little too far.
* Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.
* Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'd bet my behind everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time!

Afrikaans

Vir dié wat sukkel met Afrikaans tik, veral daai kappies en doitjies...

Char.	Keystroke 1	Keystroke 2	Unicode	Char.	Keystroke 1	Keystroke 2	Unicode
á	Alt+0225	Alt+160	00E1	Á	Alt+0193	-	00C1
â	Alt+0226	Alt+131	00E2	Â	Alt+0194	-	00C2
è	Alt+0232	Alt+138	00E8	È	Alt+0200	-	00C8
é	Alt+0233	Alt+130	00E9	É	Alt+0201	Alt+144	00C9
ê	Alt+0234	Alt+136	00EA	Ê	Alt+0202	-	00CA
ë	Alt+0235	Alt+137	00EB	Ë	Alt+0203	-	00CB
î	Alt+0238	Alt+140	00EE	Î	Alt+0206	-	00CE
ï	Alt+0239	Alt+139	00EF	Ï	Alt+0207	-	00CF
ô	Alt+0244	Alt+147	00F4	Ô	Alt+0212	-	00D4
ö	Alt+0246	Alt+148	00F6	Ö	Alt+0214	Alt+153	00D6
û	Alt+0251	-	00FB	Û	Alt+0219	-	00DB

I'm so lucky! I have a keyboard that doesn't need fiddling to get the right keys. I need to find something like this for Lithuanian now. So far, I only have the č (Alt+269), which I need to be able to type my name.

Kaalvoet Klonkie

I found this lovely artwork online entitled “Kaalvoete” byElizabeth Kendall.

I was backing up all my blogs from Multiply. It’s not such a terrible thing. I’m rather enjoying the trip down memory lane. I found a blog which had absolutely nothing to do with Kaalvoet Klonkies, but, as often happens, the comments evolved into a hilarious bout of South Africanisms and Klonkies.

Kaalvoet klonkie basically means ‘barefoot ragamuffin’ – or at least, that’s my interpretation. To me, it holds no negative connotation, though some say it has. My gran sometimes called me a kaalvoet klonkie on those days when I played outside barefoot and grubby.

In the comments of that blog, my Dutch friend,Riete found and posted a poem/song by Gill Steward that gave us a chuckle.

Kaalvoet (pronounced "Carlfoot") Klonkie, the Barefoot Flea
(Tune: On top of Old Smokey) (Johannesburg 1970)

I'll tell you the story
Of Klonkie the flea
Who dabbled his tootsies
In my cup of tea.

'Twas there that I saw him
And asked him his name
And now I will tell you
His reply to the same -

"Sir, my name is Klonkie,
the barefooted flea
And I'm fishing for tackies
In your cup of tea.

Some fleas wear pink tackies,
And some fleas wear blue,
So I'm fishing for tackies
And any will do,

Because as you'll notice
My tootsies are bare
And it makes it much harder
To run through your hair!"

So that is the story
Of Klonkie the flea
Who's still fishing for tackies
Although there's no tea!

‘Tackies’, incidentally, are what South Africans call trainers, tennis shoes or sneakers. We’ve always joked about “…butmy fleas have pink tackies!” This brought back memories :)

Kaalvoet Klonkie

 

I found this lovely artwork online entitled “Kaalvoete” by Elizabeth Kendall.

I was backing up all my blogs from Multiply. It’s not such a terrible thing. I’m rather enjoying the trip down memory lane. I found a blog which had absolutely nothing to do with Kaalvoet Klonkies, but, as often happens, the comments evolved into a hilarious bout of South Africanisms and Klonkies.

Kaalvoet klonkie basically means ‘barefoot ragamuffin’ – or at least, that’s my interpretation. To me, it holds no negative connotation, though some say it has. My gran sometimes called me a kaalvoet klonkie on those days when I played outside barefoot and grubby.

In the comments of that blog, my Dutch friend, Riete found and posted a poem/song by Gill Steward that gave us a chuckle.

Kaalvoet (pronounced "Carlfoot") Klonkie, the Barefoot Flea
(Tune: On top of Old Smokey) (Johannesburg 1970)

I'll tell you the story
Of Klonkie the flea
Who dabbled his tootsies
In my cup of tea.

'Twas there that I saw him
And asked him his name
And now I will tell you
His reply to the same -

"Sir, my name is Klonkie,
the barefooted flea
And I'm fishing for tackies
In your cup of tea.

Some fleas wear pink tackies,
And some fleas wear blue,
So I'm fishing for tackies
And any will do,

Because as you'll notice
My tootsies are bare
And it makes it much harder
To run through your hair!"

So that is the story
Of Klonkie the flea
Who's still fishing for tackies
Although there's no tea!

 

‘Tackies’, incidentally, are what South Africans call trainers, tennis shoes or sneakers. We’ve always joked about “…but my fleas have pink tackies!” This brought back memories :)

A lesson in judgement

We had our farmer's market today and I was asked to do an honesty box for the market aside from the usual honesty box in the shop.

The honesty box is simply where we put out fresh produce from the farm and people pay what it's worth. It's totally unmanned. I just check it periodically and top up the veg. 

I had put out some veg, walked away for half an hour and, on returning, saw it looked very empty. The spinach was missing. I had chosen this spinach because of it's lush shine, so it was noticeable at a distance. I looked in the money jar.... 1 cent lay there. My heart sank. I felt an overwhelming sadness at the state of society. It was with a heavy heart that I went back to the garden to find goodies to top up the box. While in the garden, I got some carrot for the horses.

I had just put the rhubarb and radishes in the box, then walked through to chat to Oscar and Chunky when I was approached by the lady in the next door stall. She explained that a woman had come and was worried that the spinach wouldn't be there when she got back, but she had to go and get change for the box. I nearly cried! My faith in humanity was restored and I learned a valuable lesson in judging too quickly. People are amazing! :)

Whatever comes next

So many years ago, when I took my reading training wheels off and graduated to 'grown up' books, one of my first books was "Moonraker's Bride" by Madeleine Brent. I was so excited. I had spent a fair amount of time in the children's section of the library gazing longingly across at the adults' section.

he book was, in many ways, an eye-opener for me. I learnt of a strange new world, China, of Boxer rebellions, missionaries and how, in a day, a heroine's world can be turned upside down by a twist in fate. To this day, I love Madeleine Brent's books, though, sadly, there aren't many. Each one takes me to a different world and is relaxing pleasure that requires little thinking.

Going back to that one book, there is a part where the old lady who looks after our heroine and the mission is busy dying. They were struggling to feed themselves and the orphans in their care. The old lady's advice was, "When you don't know what to do, just do whatever comes next." With all the arrogance of youth, I thought that was rather a stupid thing to say. If you don't know what to do, how on earth would you know what to do next? How can you do something when you have no idea what to do?

Thankfully, though, the advice stuck with me. I've had many opportunities to remember it when the storms of life have seemed to pick me up like a piece of flotsam and toss me down onto the rocks. When my mind is buzzing with problems and 500 solutions, none of which seem to be the answer, it is this advice I turn to. Simply doing something... anything, however mundane... is often the catalyst that moves me into solutions. It is a peculiarly mind-clearing action.

On the subject of mind-clearing... What do you do when your mind is clear - too clear? As a writer, I have a very up-close and personal relationship with that status. Blank screen, blank page, blank mind. A frustration that reaches deep when I know I have so much to say!

"When you don't know what to do, just do whatever comes next."
When you don't know what to write, just write whatever comes next. This is when I delve into the mundane if I have to and mundane is something I have plenty of. The thing with mundane is that defies my attempts to keep it mundane. It is the most remarkable thing. I would start out simply describing my day, a remembered scene from long ago, an object, a character in my book and before I know it, I'm embellishing those thoughts with flights of fancy and sometimes not-so-fancy flights.

Isn't this a little like those word association games we used to play? Shall we call it thought association?

By Corrianne Lasevicius (aka Tint)

Technorati Tags: writing,books,review,author

Road hog!

Never a dull day! I started the day crushing eggshells for the chickens. Lord Meath cracked a joke about me possibly having to sleep in the kitchens, as the lock and door handle had been removed for repair. I love encounters with him. I grabbed a bowl and headed off to the walled garden to pick raspberries. Sounds fun, doesn't it?

The trouble is that I'd already picked all the easy ones! The central row of bushes remained. It was suggested that I use a walking stick or umbrella to pull the branches towards me for picking. Great idea... if I had either of those items. Never one to let a bush get me down, I decided to go into the bushes. Again... sounds easy, right? They're as tall as me and planted really close together. I now know were to hide if I want to disappear from society! Oh... and I got my first horsefly bite today... ungrateful little beast. I was gently trying to shoo it off too. I don't swat and kill like everyone else does. Hmph!

My next task was to fill the honesty box (basket, really). I was commended for the good job I did with it yesterday - throwing in a little idle boasting, though it's really not much to boast about.

It's basically a basket with pickings from the walled garden that people can take and pay what they feel it's worth. Have I mentioned before how wonderful it is to see your 'food' through from the planting to the harvesting and cooking?

Back to our road hog... While I was busy picking beetroot for the basket, Jurgis let me know that it was time to move the pigs. They love beetroot leaves (normally) and could I pick some to help lure them. They've been in the pig 'maternity ward' up to now - the sheds - and it was time to put them back into their paddock... a separate one from where the piglets are currently frolicking. Maeve first, as she was the one most likely to give us strife. And did she give us strife?! She saw her opening and trotted off. It was just Jurgis, Sayo and myself, feebly waving our beetroot around that Maeve decided to totally ignore. Out she went... on the road to the shop, which is where the public come in for their very dignified visit to Killruddery. I freaked! I had visions of mommies with babies in prams seeing this huge tonnage of road hog advancing on them. That Maeve is friendly and is only enjoying an outing would not occur to them, I'm sure. I called for help and was told, "Don't worry. Maeve knows her way around." Only later did I learn that it wasn't her first time out. We eventually headed her off. That was after she took a roadside mud bath (try ushering a mud-coated pig along) and managed to get me shoved into a nettle patch, at which point my thoughts towards her turned as muddy as she was. We finally got her to her paddock and went to let Lisa out - this time, making sure all escape routes were secure. We were busy letting Lisa out when Maeve strolled up to see what was happening. They discovered the pile of discarded feed off to one side and nothing we did would move them until they were good 'n ready. I personally think they were just putting us in our place. *Mentally adds pigs to the list of fairly uncontrollable animals along with goats, sheep and cattle* I think that's what makes them so interesting though :)

After spending a while watching Sophie and her piglets, we went off for some lunch, which turned out to be a serving of popcorn each washed down with Coke. Uh huh... yes... healthy, I know...

I was weeding under the mustard after lunch. Now let me get it down for the record. If it were up to me, I'd buy my mustard, decently packed in a little metal tin or bottled. Them seed pods are sticky and reaching in among them did nothing for my glorious hair do - which needs help on the best of days. I was fully sporting the highland beast look by the time I was done.

Dinner tonight was a delicious concoction of fresh garden peas, fresh garden courgettes, fresh garden garlic (getting tired of the freshness yet?), onion and not-so-fresh supermarket chicken over pasta. It was yummy. I washed it down with the last of my South African wine. Now that was good!

Wreathed in mists

As I gaze out at the Little Sugarloaf over the quiet gardens, I see the 'ghosts' of yesterday's children laughing and frolicking on the lawn. Time (and weather) is a fleeting thing, is it not?

It was a glorious day yesterday. One father was rolling down the hills with his little ones. He looked bashful when he caught me watching. I commented that every garden needs a hill...and it does!

Walking through the veggie garden, the bees and bumble bees making the most of the sunny weather, I could almost See the peas growing fatter. I gave the chickens their treat and went on to the pigs. The piglets were out romping. We can't get enough of watching them. Rough-'n-tumble play in the mud. They're just kids really. It's remarkable to think they're only a little over two weeks old.

Ah.... we're in such a beautiful place and truly happy. I love my work, the people, the place. I go for walks in the forest and forage for the most fascinating mushrooms. We can walk the same path five times a day and see something new every time.

The mists of our lives, so far, have been fickle. Perhaps, just this time, the mists will clear to find us still here, happy in our new reality where the sun shines from within the soul even when the skies are grey.

In defence of praise

Who doesn't like being praised for their work? Is it an area exclusively reserved for bosses? What is it about praise that makes people so uncomfortable?

It's something I started noticing when I passed my colleagues doing what I thought was a spectacular job. I told them so and got a response that implied that they thought I was mocking them. I definitely wasn't. I was genuinely impressed with their work.

I praised my husband for the excellent job he did for me (a small, but, for me, important task). He thought I was being sarcastic. I now wonder if it's the way I say it...

Telling my boss that her organisation of an event was very impressive ended up looking as though I was 'sucking up'.

Is there no easy way to praise? I know I'm guilty of not always accepting praise with grace. Wouldn't it be nice if we could all accept praise with a simple and gracious, "Why, thank you!"

A blog worth reading on the Power of Praise can be found here.

Hmmm... The smell of oranges bring peeled in a room must be one of lives pleasures!

*Sneaks in and waves*

Hi everyone! So so sorry I abandoned you! Well, I didn't really abandon you. It's just that our internet has been down a lot and I'm not often home at the computer and when I am, I share the pc with Jurgis.

I've had so much to post! I spend a lot of my day thinking of things to write about, but never get around to it. Unlike when I was in Sao Paulo, I don't carry writing materials with me. No sit down on a metro to write happening here.

Christmas is done and gone. Our tree was a gorgeous moss-covered branch on which I hung the most sentimental ornaments we'd brought along. It was pretty. Tatiana was here with us, which was wonderful! The photo up top is of her and Jurgis messing around. It was good to see =) She's gone back to work now and I miss her, but at least we're in the same time zone. We had such fun together. She's so easy to laugh with.

I thought of trying to catch up and fill everyone in on life here, but didn't know where to start, as there's been SO much I've missed blogging, so what I'll do as I think of it is post a photo or two and blog around that. Seems easier. It may be sporadic though. I've decided firmly that when we next get our own place, if anyone suggests we get wifi, I may have to shoot them.

Hmm... what should I blog about first? Ah well... I'm here to say hello and let everyone know I'm still alive and thinking of you all. Yes, indeed I do!

Christmas 2011

A touching father and daughter scene :)