Drawing on nature

fig III / lactic, originally uploaded by various brennemans.

I excitedly snapped the first figs from their little branches today, careful not to get that sticky milk substance on my hands, it's like glue. Living in a very multicultural suburb in Melbourne's inner North, fig trees are in every second yard. Hanging over back-lane fences or along the railway lines pomegranate, quince, olives, persimmon, all are also wonderfully abundant this time of year. Circe my seventeen-month old shared a back-yard fig with me today, both her first and the season's. They have been a long time coming and are smaller than usual although still plentiful.

While out there eating it, I noticed only today that my amazingly tall corn (I mean it stands at probably 7 feet tall!) has several stalks which are producing beautiful pink silks. If anybody knows why I'd really love to know. The seeds were from Diggers, I noticed that the upper flowers are also pinkish on these stalks. I am very proud of one particular stalk which has 7 ears of corn, yeah. Circe will be so thrilled just these last two days she has a new word, "corn." Thankfully she is dwarfed by my super corn and will not be able to yank out the corn before it is ready, like she does with the tomatoes. I cannot wait, however, to hold her up to it so she can pick her own. It doesn't get better than that.

After the lovely fig-morning, there was some protest today about going to kinder. A sore tummy and a sad look on Eliza's face tugged at my heart strings. It was gloomy outside and Circe too was looking sleepy, easy decision really to stay at home.

A quick feed for the little one, some snuggles and right to sleep she went. I made Eliza a bed on the floor in her room, drew her curtains gave her a hot water bottle. Lots of cuddles and the glow of her owl lanterns sent off to sleep, too!

Two children asleep, and my house was quiet and peaceful. I could have done one of many household tasks, instead I sat with watercolours, pen and my moleskin, not even a cup of tea. I drew and painted for an hour, a lovely way to spend the quiet time I do believe.

one autumn day

ic I, originally uploaded by various brennemans.

For the moment I am enjoying the close of a beautiful Autumn day, the air from my open window is still and fresh. Earlier I was outside and heard the low whooshing sound of the fruit bats making haste as they heard the sliding of the back door. The figs are late this year.

I sat quietly out there a while listening to the rustle of my corn in the nights breeze, almost eerie. Today I wondered about the day, how we fill it, how it will never be this same day again. As I sat by this corn I remembered the afternoon Eliza and I planted it, her finger pushing the seed into the ground. As I let her be I wondered whether it would actually grow. When she stands by it now they quadruple her size. Days like those I push the moment into my mind, knowing that in a few months I will think back to this day as the passages of time take little corners in my mind.

My husband sits out there at night and listens, for him the sound is calming soothing, the memories of the Missouri corn fields still fresh in his mind. My heart longs to see the corn fields in Missouri, I have only seen the stalks cut to the ground, acres and acres as far as you can see. I wish I could plant up my entire backyard to see what it would feel like, a corn maze.

I am thankful for the moments I can capture with a click of my camera. There isn't a day that goes by where I don't see something beautiful, whether it be a big red apple in tiny hands or raggedy Ann slumped over my tiniest shoulders, the golden light of morning highlighting her slightly auburn hair.

Some things though I will just have to remember, like the angelic sounds of my 7 year old boy singing "Somewhere over the rainbow," there is almost nothing sweeter. He is in choir at school and just sings all day long, it is truly beautiful. Instantly though I am feeling dissatisfied at myself for not getting round to booking drumming lessons for him, as his drums sit gathering dust in the lounge rooom. Now I wonder do I book some singing lessons also or will I never get around to that either?

In my house right now I am listening to my two eldest children playing slamwich with a sleep over friend, their laughter coming in from the other room warms my heart. Earlier they rushed in from outside to tell me that the ice cream truck was parked over by the park. As anybody can remember this is so exciting when you are 3 or 7 or 10. How could I say no, I was once just like them, my brother and I always begged mum for money when we heard that sound. I love that some things are still the same.

I am missing my little three year old she is over the road having had an evening fire with toasted marshmallows and is now staying for a sleepover. Although I will miss her little shape in her bed tonight I know that she is safe and snug alongside her best friend. 

Despite my seven year old crooning that nothing happened today I am feeling like It is Ok to have days like these, he is happy right now cuddled up to his Dad in the cocoon of his Bunk bed, his belly filled with home made pizza and chocolate ice cream, his dreams dizzy with tyre swinging his body still from sleep. The days are beautiful even in our sleep.