yard score, by various brennemans.

In the winter my backyard sees only a glimmer of the morning sun. My neighbour's tree has grown too tall, as the sun traverses east-to-west my yard sees very little of its winter-ly rays.

My clothes dry inside now, the clothes horse gets moved from lounge to tiny bathroom, back to lounge to bathroom, depending on weather... and if it is bath night, or shower night, or shower morning. Which means it gets moved at least twice a day.

I swore I'd never chase the sun or warmth with this clothes horse, after it shut on both my hands and pinched so hard on one finger two years ago. I pried it open with my only free body part, my boot. I cursed Ikea and its dumb clothes horse.

My finger was numb for two months after that, yet still I move the thing from room to room, one corner of the yard to another. How I have hated thee clothes horse, but bloody oath you dries my clothes. During the day I close the door of my bathroom, the dry warm air hits you when you slide open the door. I could dehydrate fruit in there.

When I can have dry clothes in one day, why would I bother changing my ugh boots for crocs to bring in washing at the sight of the one dark cloud that always looks like it is right over my house. Even in the summer I have a bad habit of being unable to leave the washing the heck alone, I move it from prime morning sun spot to blazing burning hot afternoon spot by the rendered wall that radiates a singing heat.

These days my only backyard repertoire is a mad dash at lunch or dinner time to pick some coriander, which is growing beautifully, may I add. I check my bulbs, which are also looking fine. I sigh at the drifts of fig leaves collecting in my yard.

But then I spy the happy wanderer. I rescued him from my front yard a couple of years back, and now it looks fantastic. Mr Happy Wanderer is wondering where he can wander from his fat bush. Shall I grapple at the tap today, it wonders, or shall I creep up these two beams which used to hold a pergola? I don't know, I think I'll just see how wide around I can get.

Pretty amazing my wanderer, and it gave my winter's first pretty purple blooms. Thanks Mr!

grey afternoon and orange balloons

In an Emily Green, by various brennemans.

With my camera in hand and a secret-garden-reading daughter beside me I rode into the city Sunday. We hadn't done this since November of last year.

Stop number one, Markit at Federation Square. Crafters and the likes coming together to sell their wares. The atrium was dimly lit and kind of like you were stepping into a little hub, the heartbeat of Melbourne's craft movement.

I live in this city I know the place is buzzing with creatives, you can't go ten feet without bumping into an owl or a deer. I love it, for me it was a little outing I hoped would inspire us both.

She, Bea that is, felt we just had to take home a little part of it. We choose an Emily Green necklace, and agreed we'd share it. She even wrote down which days we'd each have when we got home.

After we'd seen it all and seen it again at Fed Square, we ventured a little ways down the banks of the river. Orange balloons lining the way, bright against a grey autumn sky.

We went to Artplay, a great interactive art space with exhibitions as well as work shops for children. On exhibit that afternoon was Ross Brewin's "Play with Cardboard." I took a bunch of photos just to show Aaron, as he always told me "cardboard is a great structural material," and I remembered the sculptures he made when he was trying to get into visual arts many years ago.

He used to make cupboards, penholders, all kinds of mad things from cardboard. Once he made Phoenix a shield and sword where the sword fit snugly into the body of the shield. Why doesn't he do that stuff any more? He never did get into art school, really. Thank goodness he choose to study mathematics, one of us needs an actual income.

Anyhow these small room sized works were like cubbies, little warrens for tiny totts, or just lounging spaces for kicking back. I wanted one of each, fold away of course so I could store it or just build one within the kid's room it would be fantastic.

Heading back towards the train, our next stop was again at Federation Square at a busy Japanese restaurant, Chocolate Buddha, The service was terribly slow, we waited 30 minutes to order. Thankfully the food arrived swiftly, I mean within five minutes, and it looked impressive.

My Ramen noodle soup with salmon was just the thing for a cold Melbourne afternoon. I could also have eaten all of Bea's tofu and greens with rice had she not loved it so much, it was actually tastier than mine. The salted young soy beans were also delicious. We had wanted to order the green tea ice cream but gave up waiting.

After the meal minus green tea ice cream, we walked a little with no real plan.

I asked Bea if she'd like to walk into the Cathedral, then I realised she didn't know what one was. She had only been in a church once ever before and couldn't remember it. She had never seen a place as grand as this. We looked at the tiles, the mosaics, she was engrossed in the high ceilings and the quietness of the place.

I was trying to recall year 12 art: flying buttresses, vaults, naves, and rose windows. Yep I couldn't remember enough to sound even remotely like I knew what I was talking about, and on that note we left. Personal project, revise year 12 art.

In stark contrast to the Cathedral, we walked down Hosier Lane to see some graffiti, stencils, and illuminated art boxes, even some tin can art.

I was glad to have found my favourite stencil ever, this girl and her deck of cards.

Looking up I wondered what it would be like to live up in the apartments there on the lane, with potted garden window sills, the best restaurants on your doorstep. Ok maybe some drunks down below in the stairwells and music from the underground bars would keep you up all night, but it still seems a little parisian, a little romantic.

It was getting a little chilly and dusk bought with it a light fog, we made our way to Flinder's Street Station heading for platform 5 and our train home. Inside though, there are shops and there was taffy.

We'd seen some of it before at Markit, a $20 box of individually wrapped ones, but I passed them up. The box was something special, and I am a sucker for packages like that one, but I was being a little stingy. I mean lunch had cost us $58 dollars! So I'd not gotten them.

But here we were, still with a sugar craving from our no-ice-cream experience, and a second chance at taffy is not to be sneezed at. So we got eight, splitting each one betwixt us - cinnamon, peanut butter, chocolate, strawberries-and-cream. Yum. Darn it I should have skimped on the chai and had taffy for a week, I reckon that was better than any green tea ice cream, however long we'd have waited.


That was our artful afternoon last weekend, I was on a little high all week because of that time, on my day to wear the necklace I felt I had a small part of my daughter with me, something we shared and will continue to share.