rainy saturday

the fist of an angry god, by various brennemans.

Today as I sat in a newly opened cafe with two friends, we'd escaped my place leaving behind all the children. As we sat in this great cafe complete with indoor bicycle parking. I thought I am for a change not sitting wrangling a toddler and wiping up spilt baby-cino, no I am sitting with the girls looking very much like the women I sometimes envy who always look like they are having way more fun than me. I digress this place was a lovely space.

We did however wait way too long for our food, but golly gosh I wasn't too fussed I was too busy immersing myself in a world where I could talk and listen without ma ma ma ma getting progressively louder in my ear. I was in love with those light blue geometric tiles, bare brick walls, bentwood chairs and the french accent on our waitress.

Take a look at my cute European hot chocolate, all manner of tardy food service was forgiven when we sipped this,bitter sweet chocolate made right there on the premises, come on.

We then walked to the also new lost and found market. My how my this little strip end of Lygon street is stepping up. I grew up around here and worked in my parents bakery just opposite for a very long long time so seeing this place change the way it has is just great, my parents shop is however still stuck in the 80's.

The lost and found market was so visually pleasing, a little too pricey for someone who likes to op shop, but I came away with some ideas and some inspiration, and a Fleur Wood silk top.

This was a little treat, something girly and very nice. We all had a little fun trying on our wares and showing each other, just like I used to do many moons ago.

Once we were done in the market we crossed over to window shop at Pop Craft a beautiful little shop, selling yarn and some handmade pieces.

Next to pop craft is each Peach and this little bicycle sits out front, aint it sweet.

Off Home we went.

Getting home and still feeling a little like I wanted to be out I took three of my kids for a bike ride/walk along the creek. I love seeing my kids outside.
The leisurely morning meant I wasn't even phased when phoenix rode through some thick mud and got himself boot deep in it. Nope we instead just decided He'd have to go barefoot and walk or ride his bike. He was fine, with that.

My littlest is an avid walker, she just treks along doesn't even ask to be carried. Eliza and her balance bike riding alongside and sometimes a little too close to the edge for Phoenix who worried that she'd fall in.

As we walked and greeted fellow walkers and all dogs as you do with a toddler, The light shower and afternoon glow bought the brightest fullest arched rainbow for the longest time. After way many "what a gorgeous rainbow" from me, Finally Circe sees the rainbow, the look of awe and wonder was priceless.

Home to a meal Hubby had made whilst revelling in the quiet of our usually loud home, whilst listening to some dub.

I hope you too enjoyed your Saturday.

musk (1 of 2)

glorious decay, by various brennemans.

We were away this weekend.

We hadn't been away, even for a night, since Circe was born. She's eighteen months old, I think we really needed to get outdoors. And we especially needed to have Circe see the wide open spaces, smell the crisp country air, and to sleep somewhere other than her own cot.

We were invited out to Musk,a small town just outside Daylesford, by our neighbour. We'd been there before a couple of times(each time with the new-season's spanking baby in tow) when there had been a house to stay in.

Because now there wasn't. The neighbours had shifted 50 meters, from a proper two-bedroom-brick building to a slightly-converted shed. Them calling it "the shed" made me not sure how feel about sleeping there, until the offer of a caravan soothed me. But I was ready for the open fire cooking, the raspberry picking, even ready for the composting toilet.

I was not ready for just how cold it was. Or how wet. It rained from our arrival well into the small hours of Sunday.

The rain didn't deter my neighbour from his bonfire. We had noticed the glow well before we pulled up to the property on Saturday. The weather was turning, the afternoon was grey and grim, the fire amazingly orange and huge against the sudden dark of 2:30 pm. Huge, huge and orange, it filled the whole of my view, snapping in the wind.

I pulled half into the drive but stopped and stared, in fear, actually.

Phoenix is our seven year old, and he had travelled ahead of us that morning in our neighbour's car, and has been up to Musk several times without us. He loves it, loves coming back filthy, and my husband tries to avoid washing him, to slip him into bed smelling of smoke so that he can hold on to the feeling.

As I sat open mouthed, feeling the heat prickling my skin from ten meters away, I said to Aaron "Phoenix is never coming here alone again." Me being such a chicken is part of why I love him going up there without us.

Once I'd gotten the courage up to drive the rest of the way in, we were greeted by his bright red cheeks and messy blond locks. The fire makes him a little wild, a little rougher around the edges, I love to see that in him. But it scares me.

Part two, Being there, to come

rainy day, paper boats

rainy day paper, from brenneman.

A paper boat, how dreamy how wonderful things would be if we could just set sail on one. To voyage out to distant lands, maybe out to a place where the wild things are.  When I was little I remember my teacher reading to us Sadako and the 1000 paper cranes, a story of a little girl in Hiroshima.  She was making 1000 paper cranes to try to stave off her death from Leukaemia caused from radiation from the atomic bomb. One version says she only made 644 before she died and her friends completed the others and buried them with her. I had always wanted to do the same.

As my city was awash with rain, sweltering with 97% humidity we all complained of wet clothes, damp and just not drying even indoors, sticky floors my smoke alarm going off at the slightest boiling of water for tea. I made paper boats to sail down the gutters on my street bright and cheery, we wet our hair and our clothes we didn't mind it was warm. My baby only rarely having felt the rain on her skin was dripping, sopping wet  the shrieks of joy the smiles from ear to ear a joy to see. My clothes clinging to my skin my bra visible through my t shirt, I didn't care this was play, play with my children wild and freeing. These colourful boats rushed along the gutter bumped against one another then glided freely again. My 7 year old asked "will the rain ever stop?" 

I wondered myself. It had been steadily raining for six days, it sure seemed like it would never stop. How must they be feeling in those small towns in Queensland, this steadily rushing stream in my street would be nothing compared to what they had seen there. We had dry clothes inside, towels and more paper to make more boats, our boats tattered and tore along the drain as the cranes were meant to as they are strung together and kept outdoors as a wish for recovery from illness or injury. If only things were so simple a 1000 paper boats would fix everything in those little towns.