flannel wanders // wood workin'

The only antidote for the gear box dropping out of a van you've owned for four days is to be taken on an adventure where you see plenty of wild flannel flowers growing in the bush.

It's a peculiar and oddly comforting feeling to see them growing wild and honestly having no inclination to cut them.

Ahhh flannel flowers. I am utterly undone by you, everytime.

These {and many many more} are to be found at Manly Dam. You'll see lots of birds {rosellas, crows, black swan, herons, kookaburras, m a s s i v e geese, ducks} and lizards {water dragons and other ones that I can't yet identify but I plan on getting my hands on some sort of reptile/bird watching literature as we are moving to the mountains and I want to nonchalantly impress visitors with my knowledge of the land and its creatures}.

I found a whole heap of old fence pailings at a council pick up about a week ago. I made a low little bench/shoe rack to act as a pedestal for my boyfriend's not insignificant collection of running shoes and then I made a planter for our tomatoes/herbs/probably will just be lots of scented geranium because I adore them more than anything.

I love projects like this where you just bumble along and figure it out as you go. I really like using my dad's old power tools. He is one of those wonderful people who know how to make anything.
This planter took about an hour. I want to become a carpenter.

Why is it so satisfying to build things?

Rhododendron gardens, Blackheath

I was struck by the beauty of this garden. It's rugged and rambling and Australian. The rhododendron garden covers 45 acres of bush land set in a little sloping valley in Blackheath. The volunteer-maintained garden takes you on a wander through incredibly tall and glorious rhodos and azaleas plants amongst different gum trees. There is such variety to these seemingly delicate blooms. The garden are open year round with peak season from early October to mid November but we visited a few days ago and the flowers are still looking grand. I met rhododendron in Rebecca before I met them in the tangible world. I adored the imagery of the rhodos/Rebecca's presence taking over the garden/life of whatever the narrators name was. They also serve Devonshire tea during peak season. Just sayin'

Also, here's to the kind of human who takes you on adventures to gardens in the mountains and understands {and assists} your compulsion to pick up good looking lichen covered branches and sticks. 

Makin' wreaths, my first bit of letterpress

I've been making wreaths! It's that time of year, right?! I feel like I've skipped a season. I also feel like the luckiest individual ever---> the folks at The Disillery have made me tags and business cards that completely undo me. Letter press is pretty extraordinary and this place is great because everyone in there is so charming and in love with what they do. It shows in their work. They also get to use giant antiquated equipment daily so I'm kind of jealous.

Here are the first wreaths off the block, some sweet pea I grew {that's almost a lie, I plonked the seeds in the ground back in July, saw them come up out of the ground then I went overseas for 2.5 months and came back to a wall-seriously it's nearly two meters tall-of delightful peas. So they grew themselves I did t do much at all} and some letter press. They drew magnolia branches and flowers for me. Cassie and Elise at The Distillery you are delightful, talented women and I am ever so grateful.

{ps If you look closely, you can see a Lipton tea bag on the tiles. I saw it as I was taking the photo, went to move it and then left it there. Realism, you know}

I found my first bird's nest on a walk with my pal. I am always ridiculously jealous of people who find them. I did feel a bit sad that the bird had to make a new one but I'm fairly certain they wouldn't be able to pick this one up and they did a grand job of this one, maybe they enjoy the work

America-land of pickles, where folks are real friendly

It's kind of strange thinking about the last two and a half months. I've just arrived back home {from deep Fall in upstate NY to the middle of spring-it's been a bit confusing, but prettily so}. 

Beginning at the end and working my way backwards:

The last couple of days were spent delighting in the company of Nicolette and Tara, Dana and Chris. We went on a fall foraging adventure. Nikky and Tara were shooting/weaving a tale for an online publication, so I won't post any photos but it was pretty magical. We visited an apple orchard where they grew 96 varieties and the grower's son once held {for just a moment} the record for the world's largest blueberry---> 9.3 grams. Later when I spoke to Chris who'd recommended this somewhat unknown orchard he asked if I'd been told the blueberry story. It made me happy to think that everyone who visits probably hears it. 

The Fall adventure is going to be featured on Atlas Quarterly, which is a gorgeous publication. 

The week before was spent at World's End, Sarah and Eric of Saipua's farm. It spans 107 acres of woods, fields, ponds,  a lovely home, and some excellent barn structures. And a chicken coop with a vintage door knob. On the farm they have 19 chickens, a kitchen garden, a couple of flower fields and beds, two dogs and 9 Icelandic sheep.

The sheep were recent arrivals. They are so beautiful. I'd fallen in love with that particular breed of sheep when I was camping my way around Iceland last year. They are so tough and smart-for sheep. Sarah chose them as they are good producers-you can use them for wool, milk and meat. When I arrived there were two older ladies, unshorn and a little flock of shorn youngsters. They have such great variation in colours and each fleece has beautiful variation. One day we were trying to get Coco the older brown sheep into a pick up and a close up inspection of her coat revealed some weird and wonderful tiny golden curls with longer cream-white-grey-brown lengths. Ahhh sheep. Their eyes are so interesting and the way they stare at you intently is fascinating. 

Less fascinating is their stubborn propensity to walk/trot/gallop in the direction you don't wish them to travel. We moved them from a lower paddock to a temporary one near the house-it went pretty well with our friend/natural born sheep whisperer Liza leading the flock armed with kind words and alfalfa pellets and Sarah, her Australian cattle dog Nea and I bringing up the rear. We then tried to move them to a top paddock about 500 meters up the road and I think the initial move gave us all false confidence. As soon as we got the girls to the road, they hung a left instead of a right and took off to the green pastures of a neighbour about 1km down the road.  Then began my first 3-4 hour sheep herding experience. 

I think the sheep wandered into every available drive way and round and round each property. Every time you thought you had them, the older sheep would tramp through some woods and you'd stumble in after them, appear on the other side in a different field. We eventually wrangled them home, and they settled down amongst some clover with their protector, Poochi the Maremma {looks like a polar bear, is incredibly sweet}. 

We also spent time cutting flowers which was such a lovely experience. The dew was still clinging to the plants. Sometimes I am so happy it almost makes me feel unwell. 

We seeded a whole heap of Campanula and I made little covers for them which act like a mini greenhouse to get them sprouting. I look forward to seeing updates of their progress.

We had some amazing meals at the farm and some wonderful people came to visit. This farm of theirs feels like the centre of something really remarkable. The amount that Sarah and Eric have achieved in the few years they've owned it is humbling. 

{I started writing about an adventure we had one day to Heather Ridge farm with our pals but I think it needs its own post-for the photos of fresh pressed apple juice, if nothing else}

I'm so glad I was able to do a bit of work on the farm. However small in the grand scheme of things, I feel like each person that helps adds a little something to the place.