An Australian country farm in winter

A few weeks back we spent the weekend at my mother's farm in north east Victoria. They breed racehorses and have some cows there on about 500 hectares (or acres, I always get confused).

She has lived there for more than 10 years and certainly had her share of droughts and flooding rains. And bushfires. And frosts. But here are the first spring daffodils.



As I mentioned in a previous post, the garden is full of European trees, which I really prefer around a house, and also lots of trees you can eat. Like avocadoes and mulberries.



Here is a lovely spot under the verandah which catches the afternoon sun.

There is also a cat called Fred who thinks he is a dog. And a new little puppy called Nellie who knows she is a dog but still needs lots of cuddles because she is only young.

Just to the left of this picture is the pomegranate tree. Each October a whole tribe of King parrots flies down from the mountains and devours every single fruit on the tree in three days and then flies away. Their genetic memory must be very good.

My mother is 100 times the gardener I will ever be. Here is her herb garden, looking a bit straggly, but I love its overgrownness.

And here is a little table form which one can admire two very Australian things - the little water tanks and the (partly obscured) back of the ute which is used to deliver hay to the horses.

I am not really a country person (and my husband sometimes has mini panic attacks that he might get stuck in the country For Ever). When we visit we always have to rush into the nearest town on Saturday morning to get the newspaper and drink a not very adequate caffe latte. But I do love visiting this magical place. And I wish we could do it more often.

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...with a view

Yesterday I attended a lunch at which the amazing, engaging Sally Capp, Chief Executive of the Committee for Melbourne, spoke about creating sustainable communities. For Melbourne, this means integrating transport and land planning, and trying to create a consistent and cohesive plan for the development of Melbourne as a truly sustainable and liveable city. This also means trying to achieve a balance between people's existing amenity and the need to accommodate the 1200 new people who come to live in Melbourne each week.

I am really looking forward to our holiday in September. And I have been thinking a lot about what it means to really be calm and at peace. To me it is all about space. I can't help it, I think I and most other Australians were just born that way.

And a beautiful view helps.

I am hoping to have a peaceful weekend, and make a start on my new book - well not so new given it was written in 1880 - Washington Square by Henry James.

Images (1), (2) Point Click Home (3) Cookie (4) - (5) Cote Maison (6) Not 100% sure (7) New Zealand House and Garden

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Gorgeous Gingko

I have had quite some excitement this week. I have discovered that Marimekko makes a fabric print of my favourite tree. Here it is:

Isn't it exquisitely beautiful. Of course I can't imagine what I would do with it, perhaps cushions for the glass conservatory I don't have. But I am pleased someone out there loves the gingko as much as I do.

In my childhood home we had a gingko tree. It was tall, old and pointy. My brothers and I used to sit in a low branch, swinging our legs like peas in a pod. Sadly when we sold the house the new owners decided that they had to have a tennis court, and out went the tree. It was probably very old, because they grow slowly. I still feel just a little bit sad at the death of that wonderful tree.

Gingko fossils have been found, and it is believed that gingkos were plentiful when dinosaurs were wandering around. They are native to China but believed to be extinct in the wild. They survived only because they were planted by monks around Chinese and Japanese temples.

They are a wonderfully deciduous tree, whose leaves change from emerald green:

To bright yellow:

To blazing red:

When I was 9, in between obsessively reading Enid Blyton books, I used to lie in the sun on the grass and hold a leaf up to the sunlight and admire the beauty of the little variegated lines.

And finally, here is a gingko inspired poem written by Johann von Goethe (1749 - 1832) and dedicated to his lover. It symbolises the duality of love.

I don't think translation from German is required (what can't you read that?) - we can all just imagine the love in the lines.

Images (1) Finnish Design Shop (2) Universiteitsmuseum Utrecht (3) David GNS (4) (5) HiveMind (6) and (7) Kwanten (see 2) (who also runs a gingko blog.

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Experimental Rainbow Day

I think I have been pretty restrained in my complaints about the dark winter days. But boy am I getting tired of it. The gloominess in combination with the minimalism which surrounds most of my life is all a bit much and must have an impact on one's mood. I read a story in a magazine (maybe Marie Claire) about some ladies who can only be described as unusual, whose wardrobes consist of just one colour ie all red, all green. That must get just as boring as lots of neutrals.

With that in mind, I thought I would recast my life in different colours just for today.

First things first. I would leap up in the morning from this beautiful pink bed. If there is one certain thing in life it is that I will never have a pink bedroom. But how could you not be perky waking up in this.

Breakfast would comprise happy little melon balls:

Then I would cast aside my Melbourne black to throw on a little Matthew Williamson number:

Discard my Kate Spade black leather bag and grab my Marrimekko purse to stride out and face the world.

Lunch would be a multicoloured salad on these Dinosaur Designs plates:

My hands would be kept hygienically clean by this towel:

A brown Indian curry or tarragon chicken dinner would be passed over for yet more fruit on colourful plates (getting healthy on the inside as well):

And then I would sink back into that amazing bed.

Rainbow day complete. I feel better already.

(Images (1) Homes and Gardens (2) A La Table Del (3) Style.com (4) & (6) Finnish Design Shop (5) and (7) Dinosaur Designs)

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Diary of my Day - in Tomato Time

Yesterday my day began with tomatoes, and ended with tomatoes. It also had a tomatoey middle.

Let me explain.

Breakfast is a bit of a challenge in my house. My son is always absolutely starving, and my daughter is what you might call picky. I barely eat myself between negotiating what everyone will eat and serves of toast, milk, juice, different spreads, picking bits of jammy toast from the floor etc.

Having run the gamut of cinnamon on toast, Nutella on toast, Vegemite on toast and just dry toast, I have managed to introduce my daughter to tomato on toast, one of my favourite snacks ever. I slice tomatoes, place them neatly on a piece of grainy toast which has been lightly buttered and drizzle with olive oil and Maldon salt and pepper. I love the contrast between the warm toast and the salty cold tomato. And guess what? She likes it too (minus the butter of course because she doesn't like butter).

Unfortunately tomatoes are not really in season at the moment. The choice yesterday was tiny cherry tomatoes. And have you ever tried to slice a slippery cherry tomato as opposed to just chopping it willy nilly? You need a really sharp knife and concentration which I do not have at that early hour. After I bandaided my cut finger, I discovered that the slices were so tiny that nine of them fitted on the slice of toast. And then, because my daughter also likes it this way, I cut the toast into nine (yes, nine - 3 x 3) tiny little toasty squares so that there was one piece of tomato on each section. Then I carefully drizzled with olive oil and a tiny sprinkle of salt. And it was all scoffed down in 30 seconds flat, confirming my view that persuading a child to eat often comes down to presentation.

And if that doesn't convince you that I am crazy, nothing will.

The middle of my day was a lunchtime meeting at work. We rotate the catering, and it is rarely inspired. Yesterday was tomato and lentil soup with a heavy hand in pepper, and a so called pumpkin soup which tasted like a thick tomato soup. We all complain about the food. It gives us a sense of team solidarity, which I think you need to get through the tough times. (Side note - on good days we get the lunchboxes from our local which happens to be one of the best restaurants in Australia - Vue de Monde - fantastic and really good value).

My day ended with tomatoes because last night I made pasta with my favourite tomato sauce which, and I know this is a big call, is the best tomato sauce for pasta ever (in the history of the world).

I know it's wrong and in breach of anti-dumping laws but one of the only things I like about supermarkets in Australia is the profusion of very cheap tinned Italian tomatoes. They bring a taste of summer to the darkest day, and I am very sorry to the local producers - your fresh tomatoes are bliss but your tinned are not a patch on those produced by Italia.

I have been engaged on a search for the best tomato sauce for pasta for many years. This is because:

1. Monday night is always pasta night. Except when the routine seems unbearable and I change my mind about this. Then it becomes noodle night.

2. I really need a quick brainless pasta recipe I can cook which will be amazing and foolproof for those emergencies.

3. I feel that many tinned tomatoes (and indeed, regular real round tomatoes) do not often have the best flavour. The challenge therefore is to maximise the tomatoeyness and minimise the tinny or watery flavour you can get.

About 3 years ago I struck gold. I have to thank Marcella Hazan for this. I have previously mentioned how her books are falling apart at the seams through use. Her Classic Italian Cookbook actually has 4 different tomato sauce recipes. The one below is the one I love. It produces a rich deep dense flavour and I highly recommend it.

Ingredients

One tin of Italian tomatoes (450g)
One onion peeled and sliced in half crossways.
About 50-75 g of good quality unsalted butter depending on how naughty you feel.
a pinch of sugar
salt and pepper

Method

Put all ingredients into a heavy based saucepan. Once the butter has melted stir to incorporate. Cook at gentle simmer for about 45 minutes. Check and stir occassionally. The sauce should be reduced but not too gluggy. Remove onion bits before serving.

Serve with boxed dry pasta (cooked!) - I usually use spaghettini. How easy is that? Make it now!

Images (1) Real Simple (2) Delia Smith (3) Martha Stewart

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Current obsession - chests of drawers (or should that be chest of drawerses)

What an everyday item... but so important. Especially if you have a secret stream running under the old part of your house, as I do, which runs directly under an important part of my walk-in wardrobe (where my nicest clothes are) and where that stream may or may not be making some of my clothes slightly dampish and maybe not smelling so great.

Time to elevate all low lying clothes I said.

Off to Ikea to buy a very plain, very white chest of drawers and move all the low clothes into my bedroom proper and into the chest . If the knobs are ugly, I thought, as they usually are, no fear, I will buy some pretty crystal or porcelain knobs and all will be well. I had in mind something like this:

Or this:

Nothing wrong with that plan, right?

Unfortunately I may have mentioned my idea to my husband. He forbad me to make the excursion to Ikea. He said I will not have THAT furniture in our bedroom (or words to that effect).

(Clarification required: I love Ikea especially their white open storage shelves great for children's bedrooms. My husband cannot bear it. He can't stand all the crowds of people there, and the check out line, and the fact you can't take shortcuts to escape, and always tries to point out shoddy workmanship in the items when we are there (which as you can gather is not very often).

His solution (with which I eventually agreed) - my divine mother in law, who is in possession of a great deal of unused furniture, has loaned us a very serviceable oak chest. It needs some more blue and white, maybe some chinese ginger jars but I do not want to overload the minimal furniture free environment in our bedroom.

Chests of drawers are somewhat out of fashion. We all love to display our clothes these days in neat Aerin Lauder style open shelves. But mine now stores all my camisoles, scarves, stockings, Tshirts, knobbly and silk knits, and jeans. Things you generally know you have and don't need to see on display. I think.

Unless you are going to strip them down and paint which is probably a task I am not up to, the wood needs to have a real patina, and not be too orangey. That means age. And age can cost. However you can still pick up nice ones, in fact antique chests seem to be better value than new ones, because, as I mentioned above, I think they are a bit out of fashion.

Here are the ones I like:

And here is my humble one.

There is only one pitfall - I put all my black cardigans (of which I have many) and black stockings (again, many) in one drawer together, and now I need a torch to find anything!

(Images: (1) Homes and Gardens (2) and (3) Ikea (4) Country Living (5) Joanna Henderson (6) Polly Wreford (7) Chris Everard (8) Elle Decor (9) Cookie (10) Jane)

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Violets for almost spring (and my grandmother)

Today it is sunny and one can almost see spring around the corner.

This week I bought a lovely little blue and white jug from Safari Living in Prahran. At $22 it must have been the least expensive thing in the whole shop, which sells so many beautiful things including a wide range of Missoni wares. (In fact I had one of those moments when I thought the shop assistant had made a mistake - my eyes were darting around, I was thinking should I tell her or should I not? In the end honesty got the better of me - as it should - and I checked another jug and there it was, $22 also).

This morning I picked up some violets at the Prahran Market.

And here are the two together. I rather like them this way. I hope the violets don't disappointingly shrivel up and die tomorrow, as they sometimes tend to do.

They don't seem to smell as well as they did when I was little but nevertheless the scent always reminds me of my divine, powdery grandmother, who has been gone now for many many years but whom I remember so fondly.

I can clearly see her oval face, steely gray hair always in a bun as if she had just left the room. I was going to describe her eyes as cornflower blue or delft or some such but in fact having just looked at the rather useful 'shades of blue' entry on Wikipedia (complete with colour chart) I think they were really a steel blue. And that is apt, because like so many ladies of her generation (born in around 1910) she certainly lived through a lot. She had a twin brother, who managed to outlive her by about twenty years. I always thought that was one of the great sadnesses, that their lives did not run more in parallel. It must have been very hard for great uncle George when she was gone.

I remember her dark green cardigan and matching checked kilt skirt. I remember the cumquat tree in her front garden and the jars of marmalade which resulted from that tree. I remember the little glass bottles of coca cola she gave us when we came to visit. I remember her pale butter yellow wooden kitchen. And I remember her calm stillness. I don't think this was because I was little and she was older. I think she really was a calm person. I would like to be more like her.

And although bitter experience has taught me not to mess around with font colours on Blogger, this post is violet for my gran.

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