Spring fever

Oh how I wish I had not misplaced my camera! After a leisurely breakfast of Mango, peach, apple, banana, rockmelon and passionfruit I went for a stroll in my beloved garden. Spring is a fever of excitement for gardeners. Walking down the back steps, I feel smug at my newly dug vege patch, then less smug when I feel the healthy but insistent muscle twinges still making themselves known after said digging.

This patch is planted with heirloom tomatoes, grey zucchini and yellow squash. I am considering a couple of capsicums for Mr's sake, but have never had much luck with them. What the hell,-it's as good an excuse as any for a visit to the nursey:-)

Out onto the lawn that depserately needs a mow, I'm pleased with my purple and gold pansies. They were bunged into lawn edging with very little thought, and like most things I neglect in the garden, are sending forth copious large blooms, and matching my purple daisies beautifully. Above them the pear tree is just starting to blossom, and the hazelnut bush to the right is beautifully dressed in new spring leaves. The violets beneath are rampant, and the spinach planted randomly throughout needs picking. Hmmm, maybe spinach and 'fetta' tarts for dinner?

Further down, my cornflowers have large healthy foliage, and next to the wormwood, the grey leaves are cooling. I hope for an impressive display of little blue buttons in a month or so. Next to them an old cottage-garden flower that I bought years ago is finally budding. I have no memory of what it is, and like presents at christmas, am excited by what will unfold.

My 'badlands' garden is a special joy. I am convinced that everything is growing well here now due to some mysterious Ph level change that is entirely due to the amount of sweat I have poured into the soil. This little patch has been cleared, newspapered, composted, manured and planted out time and again and is now bursting with raspberries, shallotts, garlic, gooseberries, apples, broad beans, parsley, oregano, lavender and tansy. To the right is my kiwi-vine just starting to sprout its new spring growth.

Down the back beds (almost invisible in tall grass until Mr does his husbandly duties), I have 4 varieties of potato, peas and cucumber sown and sprouting merrily.

In the gorgeous spring sunshine, there is no better tonic for a tired little soul than a wander around one's garden. Now I must tootle off and clean and bake fast! Lydgate and his mother are coming up for a wee visit and I have a weird 'woman' need to have a shiny, clean house for them and a cake baked. (...we won't eat it,-I'm taking them out to the 'Blue Mist' cafe which, I'm certain, has plaenty of cakes...) Lovely lovely saturday.

Blue Mist

Because I can, I bought 4 new books this week.
'The Tuesday Erotica Club' by L B Kovetz
'Making History' by Stephen Fry
'Here on Earth' by Alice Hoffman
'Playing with Water' by Kate Llewellyn.

I have read the first two, and am eagerly looking forward to the others. When I buy books in bulk, a general rule of thumb applies. If the first two are great, I have a good book-choosing expedition. The first two were great.
Odd the things you find in second-hand books. A train ticket from Ingleburn used as a bookmark and a religious tract used as another.
The religious tract was in 'The Tuesday Erotica Club'....I giggled enough to make the $9 very very worthwhile.
All of these little gems were discovered at the 'Blue Mist cafe' in Wentworth Falls. It is the second-hand bookshop I would have set-up in another life. This is extremely handy as I spend very little time perusing shelves before various excited squeals emanate from me. So anyone who has exactly the same taste in books as I do should most definately visit:-) Mr wandered a little forlornly due to a serious absence of Sci-Fi titles, but I hit the Jackpot time and time again:-)
Even better, on weekends, the 'bookshop' is opened as a cafe, so you can have tea and yummy things and gaze longingly at great books. Word to the non-mountains types, there is no ATM in the falls,-bring cash.
I was particularly pleased to add another Fry and another Llewellyn to my collection. Adore them both to pieces. Kate might as well be me, and Stephen is the me I could have been (if I were a genius gay male). Adorable.

The aftermath

Having spent the weekend violently expelling the contents of my stomach and sleeping between bouts, I have little tolerance and even less sympathy.

Much to-ing and fro-ing on the theatrical grapevine this week re: a certain production in Darlinghurst that cancelled 2 nights before opening.

I have had both sides explaining their point, and am a little bemused by the 'he-said/she-said' side-taking circus, very reminiscent of Grade 3. I am over theatrical egos and lazy people who use disdain and temper as a mask for inefficiency. I am over working for people who can't spell, I am over bolstering permanently damaged egos, I am over alcohol and late nights, I am over enthusing about things I really couldn't care less about.

I am not over Potatoes, Noodles, Gerry or Diet Coke. How could I be?

I am also not over King Parrots, My comfy bed, great movies and the umerow. I may be going off going out to 'Coffee', kissing and brown rice for a while. We'll see. I'm definately over bodily fluids of all varieties for the moment. Especially bile. It tastes awful. If one is going to throw up, I recommend fruit. Yummy in, tolerable out.

The next installment of 'day-off-sans-vomiting' involves watching 'Death Defying Acts'. I doubt this will be a mind-blowing activity, but it won't piss me off as much as continuing to ruminate on general stupidity. Rumination terminated.

Oh, and I'm a bad bad hostess. Lydgate was left to his own devices for a good 2 hrs last night. I went to bed ill, Mr followed 10 minutes after. I have still to impress on him the basic standards of having guests in ones home. They include not leaving said guests to fend for themselves for 2 hrs while one has a nice comfy early night. Esepecially not cool when said guest is also best friend and has to wait for Blue Mountains trains. Grr.

Waiting and waiting and waiting. Endless maybes and what-ifs snuggling together in a great sticky ball of uncertainty. More than anything else, I would like it to be a week from now. I have absolutely no desire to experience the rest of this week, but must due to contractual obligations. I very much wish to retire to the supreme bed of comfiness and stay there indefinately. I may rise for stir-fry and cups of tea. I may not.
I tried to get someone else's baby to sleep today. She took one look at me and screeched for 1/2 an hour. So that was comforting.
The cottage is a right shambles and there are no seeds for the players at Pear-Tree Theatre. I feel unreasonably guilty about this and should pop off shops and remedy immediately. Does that count as my daily act of random kindness? (being that it is neither random, nor particularly 'kind').
I also spent an unusually large amount of time at the piano when I got home desperately figuring out the Ewok theme from 'Return of the Jedi'. It seemed important at the time.
Dinner will be beans on toast. Poor Mr, he should trade me in.

There's a salad in my garden dear liza...

I can't believe I didn't know that sweet violet leaves, when young, are edible in salads. Apparently flowers and leaves are also useful for bronchial and lung complaints. This is very good news indeed as my garden is overrun with 'em:-) A wave of scent hits me every time I go out the back door.

In other news I have many surprise daffodils flowering, tulips in the front garden, shallotts, garlic and broad beans sprouting nicely and the dreaded Yarrow creeping forth from its winter dormancy. No sign of life from the potato bed yet, but will give it another couple of weeks before I give up on it entirely.

A student gave me a bucket of soil last week with a 'surprise' edible garden within. It is packed with vegetable seeds...now I just need somewhere to plant them out....Mr?

Steadily edging towards the end of term and desperately looking forward to it. A whole week at Caloola with no computer, no mobile and no work. Just books and fires, and walks and cards and silly word games and sleep-ins and hearty feasts with local produce brimming at my table. Vineyards will be visited en route and good wine bought liberally. Lydgate and Mr will amuse me and themselves. Before that, end of term open classes and four days of holiday workshops to be endured. I can do it. I have Berocca.