they are NOT words Mum

On March 26, 2012 By faeriembassyLeave a comment

there is always a controversy that happens around our scrabble games

always!!!

for a long time we played with only a vague understanding of the rules

and we were happy in our ignorance though no strangers to trouble either.

then one Christmas my nephews wife told us about the rule that gives the winner everyone elses points

ha ha we liked that and looked at a few other rules.

this christmas I lashed out and bought a brand new Collins friends and family scrabble dictionary

that will end the arguments I thought.

wrong very very wrong.

up until this we had been using our 1948 red chambers twentieth century dictionary with pictures in it

lovelly book that I picked up for nothing in a barrow outside the Goyder Street Community Library in Narrabundah

a great book full of archaic and obscure words

most of which are no longer within our text speak.

one night Greg played the word ska

full of meaning to him

something about a type of reggae music.

sorry, not in the chambers.

well he argued for a while but chambers won and greg pouted.

much muttering went on about the ancient book and a need to update,

for goodness sake it doesn’t even have internet.

that’s kinda cool isn’t it ?

a world before this

before I emailed and blogged

before I researched and downloaded.

it became that we courted controversy

we wanted that arguement and hysterical laughter

we wanted to debate the disparity of old and new

that shock of in or not.

so here I am thinking that this year I have silenced these altercations

and perhaps we might find our fun in stretching our word hoard

wrong and wrong again.

suddenly we were thrown into the world of two letter words

that can hook a word to allow parallel play

uh?

but what does gu or mm or ee mean?

and isn’t ad , bi and op abbreviations?

and ko a kiwi traditional digging tool ie Maori language is that not foreign?

oh dear we moved into even deeper waters .

cries of ‘ I am not having these silly two letter words in the game’ ,

‘they are not words Mum’

they are abbreviations, foreign or plain ridiculous.

loud and clear.

yesterday morning I walked into the kitchen to hear sedition talking

lets just get rid of ‘ that ‘dictionary

and get a new Oxford

revolution rising

a bucking against the rules.

as if the dictionary is to blame but maybe it is,

because we havent even embraced the three-letter words yet,

like biz for business , caz for casual and miz for misery

no one will wear them without a blue.

so you see we have plenty of fun living without television,

I mean it is not all scrabble you know,

sometimes we play perudo

sometimes we read

sometimes we gaze into the fire and dream

but that is a whole other kettle of fish.

it’s only a dollar

On March 18, 2012 By faeriembassyLeave a comment

we had a laneway market yesterday

in a little brick laneway in a little old village circa 1830’s

me Bec and Jess trooped into cobargo with our brand new card table , our boxes of culled books, my select range of crocheted Berets , some potted up loquats,and some of becs old stock of fimo earrings and her lacquered nursery rhyme character brooches.

how do you spell brooches? she asks.

two oos I say.

you’re kidding, that is broooooch she says

I think it is only one or what about a u ?

we toss it around jess writing the spelling variations down until finally Veronica the knife at the next stall along yells out it is two oos.

bugger that says bec, I am going to write badges.

and so the morning continued with much laughter and squeals amongst us and with any marketers that wanted to play.

some people like to interact and yarn on and enter into a relationship of loving fun

others walk by, heads hardly daring to look almost as if the intimacy is too confronting.

well I guess it can be.

but who are we if we deny the warmth of a fellow human being?

who are we if we shy away from eye contact?

who are we if we deny others the light of our smiles?

we did have a piece de resistance, a most magnificent tall glass jar with a sign fortune cookies $1.

they were chinese chews.

jess made them.

Bec gathered together I Ching messages writing them out on purple paper.

they cut the slice rolled each piece in icing sugar then wrapped them individually in brown paper with the ‘fortune ‘ tucked inside.

the number of people who denied this experience we lost count of.

and as jess was heard to remark it is only a dollar.

we were a gold coin stall, our books were gold coin, the loquat tree seedlings were gold coin,

only the badges and Berets had ‘prices’

the Berets had a price to suit your head and I did actually sell two

but to members of the family.

oh well perhaps not the money spinner I thought.

bec says we need an edge. I say we are the edge.

the purpose was to have fun and cover the cost of the stall which we did.

and again Jess said for crying out loud it is only a dollar .

oh and our next market is going to be a free one.

how about that for an edge?

the tide is coming in

On March 5, 2012 By faeriembassyLeave a comment

rain day after day

flooding

roads closed

drains overflowing

a leak discovered in the bathroom

John occupied himself bagging the walls in there

no not like yelling at them but spraying them with water and then rubbing hessian over to make it a smooth surface.

mud walls I am talking about.

what with the new cupboard looking so Milan John decided to take away the rough texture that he so admired 30 years ago.

they look great,

now he is thinking of painting them.

that is a omg story right there because he swore he would not have anything to do with the process of painting the house he built.too much of that when he was a kid.

in deed the painted walls that have happened have been a combination of friends and me.

this wall in the lounge room in front of the computer is psychedelic art done by my nephew when he was 18

brightly painted musical notes, guitar, a faerie a tree, the egg the eye rainbows; you know the really trippy themes of the 70’s .

its great and no he didn’t turn into an artist but a musician.

but let’s think about this word artist for a bit

we have such a narrow view of what an artist is.

I like that in the way of the Toltec we are all artists

the word heart contains heART .

also heartheartheart contains earth as earthearthearth gives heart

so within the earth is our heart and within our heart we carry the earth and from there we make our art.

language is just mind spinning when you get down to it.

so in the broadest possible terms we are all artists living within the palette of creation .

making up our lives as we go.

the saga of the bathroom continues with a little cupboard being built now.

that’s the thing with heavy rain it forces us to take up indoor projects

cuts a whole lotta options out right there under the too wet for that category.

I knit and I crochet and I cook and I write and I play with Kingston.

we like chasing at the moment giggling chasing heaps of noise

and playing our ukeleles together.

but the big news is that I am knitting a mauve shawl for the next bubba.

Zoe arriving in the weekend brings the new baby within her womb

and we are all over the moon for her for us but especially for the arrival of the next load of jellybean road brats.

And more big news is Bec who has been all over the world flew home last night and she will be appearing soon.

and then next week my dad is flying over from New Zealand to hang around with us all .

as John says the tide is coming in.

that’s right the dunny is out of doors

On February 24, 2012February 26, 2012 By faeriembassy1 Comment

the leeches are busy lying in wait for us when we want to pick a cucumber or a tomato

or when we leave the verandah and go to hop in the car or

when we walk the short distance between the house and the toilet.

that’s right the dunny is out of doors

just like in the old days huh.

except for one or maybe two differences;

our toilet is a composting system, no water involved.

that is how modern we are .

I know most of you have probably got your toilet inside in its own room or in some cases next to the bath the shower and the basin.

that must seem normal even,but think about it for a bit.

we are talking waste here, something that our body has determined that we no longer need and so it removes it.

and we dont want anything more to do with it either.

Indeed often it is viewed as dirty, repulsive, certainly smelly and something best hidden and then flushed away .

where to is the question?

do you know where your waste goes and how many litres of water are required to get it there?

do you realise that the faecal matter count taken at our gorgeous beaches and rivers are your business?

me I know exactly where mine goes.

into a purpose built hole in the ground.

sometimes we add a bit of sawdust,

occasionally I chuck in a few handfuls of comfrey leaves but basically it is left to do its own thing as in compost.

after a few years we open the little door around the back at the bottom of the slope and we dig out the product.

at this time it has so successfully composted that it has slid down the sloping tunnel and lies waiting for distribution around the fruit trees and gardens.

and get this there is no smell .

it has become a dark friable soil consistency like humus.

we have two toilets in our mud brick outhouse

so you dont need to queue if you dont mind sharing.

too much information perhaps;

but what I really like about this system is that I go outside into the day with the sky sun rain birds gardens forest and while I go about my business I can observe (because it is not fully closed in) the wrens, the whipbirds and the skinks at play.

I sit there with a feeling of being connected to it all .

the other thing I really like is that I have not wasted any water .

this is permaculture,

this is living with not on the planet.

*************************************************

and donna would just like to add that a couple of apple mint leaves chucked into dunny afterwards takes away any smell

which leads me to a funny story about a time when Donna and ‘the three ‘were visiting.

Eva Ben and Grace though quite frankly Gracie was way too little to be involved .

There were some random items in the toilet space like a painting on a bit of wood of a boy and girl done by Bree when she was about 8 … down the hole it went.

followed by whatever else all with much glee and definitely no adult supervision.

we do try to be light on that here

but then we discovered their fun

Donna kinda read the riot act, Ben and Eva tried to look contrite

and then I’m hungry Mum

and it was passed to the keeper.

next time they visited they brought some mosaic tiles as replacement and a very charming orange flower painting too good for the dunny I said and it has ended up in the bathroom

and there is a whole other story …

some fantasies are like leeches sucking the blood of truth from reality

On February 12, 2012 By faeriembassyLeave a comment

today is a day of zen.

we are having a sunday.

what does that mean asks Greg?

well… Jess and I look at each other.

we are weeding around the east verandah and kitchen steps the common entry to our house.

it was overgrown and fat with leeches. the asparagus is running away and hosting snails.

the rue was engulfed in giant grasses.

it wasnt on our to do list for any day but we started and now it is zenned.

so to Greg we say Sunday is the day to rest to play to do your own thing, to let go of jobs, to eat and cuppa, to read and laugh, to be quiet and reflect, to give thanks for all the other days of the week in which you have been busy.

and this week has been sooo busy.

have a break today babes Jess says to him.

he stands firm. I want to keep on with the ‘cupboard’.

On monday John and Greg began work on a storage cupboard /wardrobe/ bookshelf in Jess and Greg’s bedroom which used to be Elsie Roses room which used to be ‘the girls room’.

it is remarkable how they have taken a plan a family discussion and turned it into a wall of shelves that divides the room effectively separating the bedroom space from the studio.

and now john is still in his jammies and lightly snoring on the couch.

Greg is putting the shelves up, baby is asleep in my bed along with a zillion teddy bears. Jess is into one of her photo projects.

today is the first day we have seen blue sky and sunshine, the forest glistens after the drenching.

and sunday is the day for pikelets for elevenses.

blackberry jam and cream, maple syrup and mango, coffee tea.

talking of the play Blackbird we saw last night at the Murrah.

and it was good but; has left me wondering this, do 12-year-old girls really lust after middle-aged men?

before puberty has grabbed her hormones and rattled them around the body and confused the mind

is she really into the older man? Or is this just a male fantasy?

I did note that the play had been written by a man .

and so I ask my 12 year self and my daughters 12-year-old selves and other friends 12-year-old selves .

so far they shudder and recoil with distaste but can remember a ‘boy’ in the same year or at high school who they were keen on.

or they were focused in their own world and boy girl stuff had not emerged.

some fantasies are like leeches sucking the blood of truth from reality.

I would choose a reality where 12 year old females are allowed to be undefined by the sexual ideas of the male mind.

and yeah leeches have their place but I can weed and reduce the chances of them hanging around our doorway.

just like ideas can be challenged before they take root in our belief system.

…he woke up in a right snit

On February 4, 2012 By faeriembassyLeave a comment

the baby is crying

he woke up in a right snit

I tried to take him but he rejected me soundly with ‘real’tears on his cheeks,

only mum would do.

and that is life is it not?

sometimes we just want what we want

even if we dont know why or what that is

and sometimes,

nothing,

not even mum can make it better.

and then suddenly out of the blue a water skink ducking behind the stove

or snitching a crumb off the floor

or the sharp crack of the whipbird just outside the window breaks the spell

and he is chuckling again,

the torment is forgotten.

there is exclamation,wonder arises.

a squatting to see,

a head cocked listening,

an engagement again with the world.

all is right

and sometimes we never know what the problem was.

the art of wonder

what is this thing we call wonder?

eyes as big as saucers , mouth open

struck dumb, spellbound, gob smacked, lost for words,

beyond words,

awed

surely a transcendent moment

but maybe not,

maybe a point of surprise

maybe just something really ordinary but out of context.

and then there is the verb form of wonder

I wonder what is going on for the bebe to cry so hard and not want my loving attention

I wonder why he is out of sorts.

I also wonder why people poison blackberries

when I have just made 17 jars of wild lush as jam.

So on the one hand I am filled with wonder lying against the trunk of the kurrajong

looking up thru latticed branches to a star studded night sky,

and on the other, I wonder how people can mine the hills and valleys,

shoot the wallabies and wombats and woodchip our forests.

I wonder when we will grow up, collectively speaking and safeguard our nest,

but mostly ,

I wonder how the spiders build such finely embroidered webs.

this morning we walked with baby thru the early misted forest,

sun beams casting shade and highlighting

the millions of webs strung in branches and grasses,

some circular and some heart shaped

some tattered like old lace and others perfectly wrought.

It is all a wonder to me this planet

and so are you…

really nationalism leaves an unpleasant taste in my mouth

On January 28, 2012 By faeriembassy1 Comment

26 January is called australia day by some, invasion day by others depending on your perspective

some just know it as a holiday which is really holy day when you think about it.

I take the day seriously knowing that around the country breakfasts are happening and speakers are pontificating.

I like to create ‘ something else ‘, an ‘other’ idea and so we did

thursday becoming the day of many laughs .

geoffrey rush was announced as man of the year,

a yes for the arts and intelligent thought, for elder status and awareness.

what not to like about that recognition.

the flag waving sickens me in truth

the flags on the cars, in front of houses,

for crying out loud some guy in Bega had the aussie flag tattooed onto his arm beside the american flag his original country of citizenship.

I wish I could find all that cool

but really nationalism leaves an unpleasant taste in my mouth.

why you might ask?

arent I proud to be an aussie?

no and that is no again.

I would rather stand up for rivers and forests, for wombats and glossy black cockatoos

I would rather we celebrated this planet earth the diversity and amazing tapestry of life

within which we co exist.

on that particular morning walking the forest track as we do, Kingston in his pram,

I found a kookaburra feather which I placed at the gate to stand as our flag .

a yay for the winged ones and those that laugh.

later on when baby was sleeping we scrabbled the afternoon away

punctuated by the usual controversy.

I even bought us a brand new scrabble dictionary at christmas time

but if anything it has intensified our disputes.

still they are the stuff families are made of,

of laughter and arguments,

of confusions and stories
of silliness and deep thought

of adventure and play.

on the day of many laughs we had a lot to celebrate

not the least the forest that inhabits us.

in reality the blackberry is an awesome feat of engineering

On January 23, 2012 By faeriembassyLeave a comment

dark of the moon, summer

grey day follows grey day, the average temperature hovers around the early to mid 20’s

gardeners lamented early on about mould and damp rotting veges

now they complain about the slow ripening process.

we are eating minatures -mini zucchinis, mini green squash

we are eating voluminous quantities of purple king beans

the lebanese cucumbers are rolling off the vine and into kingston’s mouth who at 16 months munches them like an apple.

the greens continue to amass in a bowl every lunch time a complex mix of bitter sweet and sour.

the tomatoes those lovelly tiger stripey ones are not yet ready but we wait .

the blackberries are coming on happening in wild pockets in the garden

yesterday I picked a bowl full within sight of the house

they scratched and marked me with their viscious thorns and their crimson juice.

authorities name them illegal and spray with poison

hating the non conformity to straight and tidy lines

fearing the wild chaotic and hurtful nature.

in reality blackberry is an awesome feat of engineering

committed to vigorous growth and expansion

intent on delivering habitat and food.

hardy survivalists thumbing its nose at all efforts of control.

it offers us juicy black berries rich of summer love and sunshine, of last nights rain and birdsong.

thru the power of alchemy the black berry bramble shares its capacity to resist ,

the promise of juicy rewards when we take the courage to penetrate our pain

and the selfless service we can give to others as providers of shelter and nourishment.

it is not just vitamin C and anti-oxidants

it is not just a problem

it is an entity of magic and renewal .

and hey we are eating them every day now.

somewhere it is monday

On January 16, 2012 By faeriembassyLeave a comment

the air is punch drunk with honey.

in the dawning hours while the sun is still just a glimmer thru the forest and the sky is a milky canvas waiting for the final confirmation of day I am watering the garden .

yellow bucket in one hand blue watering can in the other I fill them from the garden tank .

already this day feels harder than yesterday, the soft grey has lifted chased away by clarity. there is heat coming.

watering over I start to pull out the over grown apple mint shrubbery beside the tank .

the yellow robins arrive and perch sideways as they do, on the rhododendron, the jacaranda,and watch , waiting for the damp exposure of juicy tidbits.

it becomes a dance; I clear for a while and then move aside allowing them to dart to the ground and retrieve a worm.

head cocked worm in beak they fly off . I pull out more matted minty roots until they catch my eye and I step back; like an orchestra we each have our parts to play.

we are in synch.

I started wondering if I was doing this for them or me?

the sun has moved higher into the tops of angophora stringybark monkey gum grey box and they are glowing sunrise orange .

It is then that I am struck by the scent of honey.

a rich intoxicating perfume riding the whispers of breeze from the flowering mass in the angophoras thru the garden and up past the fine filaments of antennae in my nostril.

twisted and contorted of shape the apple box gums or angophora is an elder tree having the largesse to provide

hollows for goanna possum and birds.

the sun clears the forest and the garden opens to receive.

somewhere it is monday .

here it is morning and the forest is alive and the air is heavy with honey blossoms.

making love is not all about sex you know…

On January 13, 2012 By faeriembassyLeave a comment

today it is picking beans and the day before and the day before,

purple king beans dangling purple strips hiding among the green heart-shaped leaves of the vine.

stretching up the wallaby proof fence and onto the possum proof roof of our garden.

after 20 plus years we folded succumbed or got smart and erected an enclosure to garden within to keep out our neighbours that love to eat what we eat .

not so our fruit trees, laden as they are or have been with peaches and nectarines and apples, of this we will taste none .

the possums have the numbers and we their humble providers.

once we ate of our trees, once we bottled and puddinged and jammed and scoffed and now the orchard has disappeared into a wattle forest.

the fruit trees around the house are the wild ones growing up from children thrown pips a mecca for the birds and possums.

we ate one once, a possum. delicious .

ok look at me weird you cow eater you devourer of chicken you vegetarian,

that likes all your food sanitised and wrapped disassembled from reality,

different when you get the hook out of the fishes mouth or when you skin and gut your dinner.

I am blessed to live with a hunter and he offers it to me already prepared .

but I have seen livers and intestines, I have seen fishes eggs and snail waste; I have not been hiding indoors all these years away from the intimate relationship between body and sustenance.

how is it we live on a planet and forget that our food is sourced from the earth?

how is it that the factory and plastic wrapped is ok and the blood and dirt on our hands is disgusting?

give me the earth under my nails any day.

give me the beans freshly picked, boiled and now baking gently in the oven in oil garlic chilli with tomato and feta.

oh yes give it to me.

give me the breath of this forest in my veges

give me the suns warmest blessing and the rains staccato burst and the pips and whistles of the birds that I devour in each mouthful.

and what about the salad I will pick now the leaves of lettuce of chicory of endive of rocket and mizuna, of beetroot and carrot, of basil and parsley and chives tossed with marigold and borage flowers.

give me this deep experience of making my lunch happen measured in footsteps not miles.

making love is not all about sex you know

making love is a communion

all things desire to commune with us.

it is just a matter of letting go really,

allowing the sun to caress the rain to tease

allowing the body to ripen and open and deepen

allowing our selves to be intimate

with our selves with earth with life