Antique botanical mail-art

Ever since I created the wild strawberry mail-art for my Secret Pen Pal Scavenger Hunt pen-pal, Corey, I've been majorly drawn to painting antique botanical-style mail-art. I had more fun with this series than I have had in a long time. The only problem being the photographs: it would appear that I had too much coffee the morning I took them, because some of these pictures are inexcusably blurry. I didn't even notice until I came to edit them and by that time, the letters were well on their journeys around the world, so there was no way of re-taking the photographs. Anyway if you can overlook the bad photography, here's the mail.

ps. If you'd like to see the contents of my mail to my secret pen-pal, she has created a beautiful blog-post about it here. (Oh my gosh I'm so embarrassed about that revolting black bag-of-horrors that before it left Melbourne contained pretty, pressed flowers from my garden. Note to self: don't send organics in the mail in summer).

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ps. have you heard about my new letter-writing and mail-art e-course? 

Over four weeks, I will guide you through multiple methods of making beautiful mail-art and creative, handmade stationery; teach you the art of writing and storytelling; help you forge personal connections in your letters and find pen-pals if you want them; and share time-management tips so even the busiest people can enjoy sending and receiving letters. Register your place or find out more information right here. 

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run - John Keats

Earlier this week there were two whole days that felt, at last, like autumn. Cold mornings, a touch of wind. On our path along Rathdowne Street, the first of the leaves were starting to fall. Scout looked up at me from kicking the leaves. "Is it real autumn yet?" The children can't quite grasp how the calendar can say autumn on a 39 degree day. I'm finding that a little hard to accept, too.

Autumn is a shedding, a paring back. The trees shed their leaves, I shed the weight of summer and step out alive into the day. Relief. On the weekend, riding home in the pram after going out for dinner, a cool wind lifted Ralph's curls. "Are you cold" I asked him, "would you like a cardigan?" Ralph spread his arms wide in the air, all goose-pimply and pale, relishing the unfamiliar sensation of cold on his skin. "No thank you," he said. "It lovely!" My own boy.

Right now the soil in our garden is radiating heat, holding onto the indian summer like buried coals in sand. But I am hopeful, hopeful that soon - any day now! - the "season of mists" will finally roll through. Buoyed by that hope, today I have been choosing bulbs to plant in my garden after Easter. I'm thinking bluebells, lily-of-the-valley, and then a riot of ranunculus for colour.

Also I'm supposed to be detoxing but last night I ate two hot cross buns while watching the Bachelor finale.

Maybe it really is autumn.

Image credit: Maria Shanina, licensed for unlimited use

What’s up doc?

Have you heard? Our garden is heaven! One of these days I will share some before and after photos of this tiny garden, which was a miserable, grubby, slimy courtyard until August, after which it became… heaven.

I am sitting in the garden as I type this, leaning up against the cubby house with my legs stretched out before me and noticing I’m somewhat overdue for a pedicure. Scout and Ralph have declared themselves to be the “chef-police,” which profession apparently involves something along the lines of being restaurant-owners who get to be extremely bossy. Also they keep throwing toy food out of the window and onto my head.

On Saturday I finally got a new phone, which was very exciting and then necessitated the expenditure of the entire afternoon in figuring out how to set it all up. The best part was avoiding the whole contacts syncing thing by typing each person in by hand, which took aggggges but I passed the time watching Freaks & Geeks for free on youtube. It felt phenomenally good to clear my phone at last of the numbers of people I might have interviewed once or twice in about 2006, which had resided in my phone ever since thanks to the syncing thingy I couldn't figure out how to turn off, therefore remaining a constant undercurrent of anxiety in case one of my children would accidentally call them one day...

We switched contracts from Telstra to Vodafone, giving me triple the data plus the iPhone 6S for a couple of dollars less than I was previously paying. I foresee some Instagram spam action in my future. Sorry Testra, it’s been real.

Also included for that price was the world’s ugliest iPhone case, made out of rubber and semi-opaque, in a kind of pale acid green which, when fitted over my gold phone, looks the precise colour of booger. Ergo I am now in the market for a new iPhone case. Any suggestions as to where to look for some nice ones? I do love the gold of these phones and kind of like the idea of a clear case so for once I can see my pretty phone, but then there are so many fabulous designs around. I saw some on Etsy that were clear but also had real flowers or leaves pressed inside them. Your thoughts on this? Lovely, or tacky? I can’t decide!

My dad has to have an operation on his back. It's not life-and-death but it's kind of a major deal and I'm a bit worried about him. Also, he and my mum have a big holiday booked for April, to which they've been looking forward for more than a year, and he's cutting it fine with the recovery time. This has been on my mind all weekend.

I finished painting and posted 10 more snail-mail parcels last week, which are now (hopefully, if I put on enough stamps - because I literally COVERED the backs withs stamps) winging their way to folks around the world. Photos coming up in the next couple of days. If I get my act together quickly, the next round of mail parcels will be all about love (oh hello, Valentine's Day).

And in other news, it turns out I need reading glasses. Which is not overly surprising given that a) I stare at books and computers all day, b) lately things have been a bit on the blurry side and I’ve been getting sleepy when I read, and c) let’s be honest, I am getting old.

Yesterday I went in to the shops to choose some frames and it is SO STRANGE to see yourself in glasses when you’ve never worn them before. They all gave me extreme monobrows and made me look severely cross-eyed. Why is it that the rest of the world looks smart and sexy in glasses, and I look like a Picasso? The only glasses I even marginally liked were $460 for just the frames, and I wasn’t willing to spend $460 on something I only marginally liked. Also, as Mr B pointed out, “You work by yourself all day, who’s going to see you?” Which is logical but I guess I’m still vain, because I really wanted to look “marginally ok” while alone in my office, rather than “marginally not a Picasso,” which is what I settled for in the end.

The bubble machine is out of mixture and the children are now watering the garden with their Minions / Frozen drink bottles. Time to head inside and make their dinner. We are out of fish fingers. I need to hunt for another lazy-Sunday-don’t-feel-like-actual-cooking meal to make.

What’s up with you, doc?

Update: it was tinned tuna with broccoli, beans and pasta for the win!

7 indoor plants that are tricky to kill

Recently I read one of those “5 surprising habits of happy people” type articles, and one of the five “happy habits” was keeping plants in your home. No real surprises there, of course. Plants are good for your physical and psychological health: they filter and purify the air inside your home, they give you something (low maintenance) to care for, and they make your home look and feel lovely!

I know the trend is all for succulents and and their cacti cousins these days but, actually, most succulents need full sunlight, or at least more sunlight than the average room can give them. They are happiest outdoors. But there are plenty of other plants that love the partial-shade atmosphere you can give them in your home. They will survive and thrive, and help make you happy in the process.

I've taken the camera for a walk around my house and here are seven of my favourite indoor plants. So far I have failed to kill them which is an excellent indication of their hardiness!

↑↑ Fittonia: It has stunning, patterned leaves and gorgeous green “blooms.” It grows gently and sways and thickens beautifully. I have a couple of these, one propped up on an upturned cup inside a tall, narrow vase; and the other in a repurposed stationery holder beside my bed, to make the air sweet for me as I sleep. Where to put it: grow in a warm, humid position with indirect light

↑↑ Super Atom: This plant has glossy, lovely, fat leaves. Do you remember the old “elephant ear” plants we all had around the house when we were kids? Imagine a miniature version with leaves in the same shape, but without the “shredded” look of the elephant ears. That’s not describing it very well. Just look at the photograph above (it’s the one in the apricot planter). Where to put it: ideal for well-lit areas indoors

↑↑ Magic Bean: (It's the one on the right, in the gold pot). How great is the name of this plant! I love it when people who name plants have imaginations and childhoods and they combine the two for the joy of the rest of us. Also, the bean-like thingumies at the base of this plant that clearly gave it its name are quirky and pretty and fun! The rest of the plant is like a rainforest canopy, if you happen to be the size of an elf or fairy. Where to put it: tolerates low, filtered light OR full sun

↑↑ Zanzibar Gem: I love the look of this baby. It’s so glossy and dramatic it doesn’t quite look real. Sometimes when Scout is playing she likes to pretend she’s going to “The Lost City,” and I think when she gets there she will find lots of Zanzibar Gems. Apparently, this plant also “thrives on neglect” when grown indoors, and is almost impossible to kill. Where to put it: just about anywhere. It will tolerate low light and cope when you forget to water it (I don't have a pretty pot for mine yet so it's just on the floor)

↑↑ Sago Palm: Beautiful little fronds curl out from the centre of this palm, a bit like a fern. I like how compact and “designed” it looks, quite classy and predictable (at least my little one is). On the other hand, according to my mother (who knows pretty much everything there is to know about plants) the leaves can be toxic so keep it up high if you have babies in the house. Mine is on the hearth. Where to put it: tolerates low light

↑↑ Air plants: There are about a million different types of air plants (ok 650), so describing them is pretty tricky. I have some spiked ones and some fluffy ones and a weird curly one (in the little yellow pot next to the Super Atom above) and some clumps of moss. They look pretty in terrariums, and in decorative dishes, vases... just about anything! People say they don’t need watering but you do have to look after them. I give mine a bath by submerging them in water for an hour once a week, and mist them if the weather is particularly hot or dry. Where to put them: a bright room but not in direct sunlight

↑↑ Parlor Palm: The name of this plant is instantly old-school to me. It reeks (the name, not the plant) of Great-Aunt-So-And-So’s sitting room, complete with Iced VoVos and proper teacups in saucers and ceramic ducks on the walls. It’s also graceful and frond-y and looks pretty just about anywhere you choose to place it. Where to put it: anywhere you like, except direct sunlight. Tolerates low-light areas

Some tips about keeping house plants

* If you keep the plants in the plastic pots they come in, that will give you a much wider choice of "pretty pots" to display them in - you don't have to worry about drainage or anything like that. You just slip the plastic pot inside the bigger, pretty one. That also lets you change your mind as many times as you like. If your pretty pot is cloth or porous like some of mine, line it with a plastic bag so it won't be ruined by any moisture

* Rather than walking around the house with a watering can, once a week I take all my plants to the bath or out onto the balcony and give them a big drink together. That way all the water can drain away without risking my floors and furniture. Once the dripping has subsided, just pop them back into their pretty pots

* When I bring each plant back from its bath I try to rotate it around so that different leaves are facing the light. That way it will grow evenly.

* The weekly bath is pretty much all I do for my plants. Apparently some will benefit from liquid fertiliser or something, and I really should read up on that but, generally, if my plants can’t survive with just a watering and a bit of rotation, I don’t have them in the house. I’m busy!

How about you? Are you a plant person? What do you like to grow and what are your top tips?

Make this, naturally: blue & botanical Easter Eggs

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Here's a lovely, last-minute tutorial for dying Easter eggs a stunning blue, and creating pretty, stencilled patterns out of leaves and flowers. Do you want to give it a go? There's still time!

The idea for this project came from my friend Pascale, who does it every year with her children. When they were little, she said, they would gasp with wonder at the patterns created on the eggs. Even now, as almost-grown-up teenagers, they still ask to make these decorative eggs every Easter, hunting through the garden for the "perfect" flower or leaf to create their stencil.

Pascale told me she would use egg dye to create a rainbow array of stenciled eggs, but I couldn't find any in our local shops and from past experience I hadn't had a lot of luck using food dyes. Instead, I found a tutorial for making a brilliant blue dye out of red cabbage, and it turned out to be incredibly easy.

What you'll need:

* Hard-boiled eggs * 1/2 red cabbage * White vinegar * Table salt * An old pair of pantyhose

This project works best on white eggs. If you can't find any, here is a super easy tutorial for whitening eggs, using only white vinegar. If you're going to do this (I did and it worked really well), make sure you hard-boil the eggs before whitening them - it will make them a lot less delicate when you come to rub the colour off.

Step 1: Make your dye

1. Roughly chop up half a red cabbage into pieces about the size of your fist. Toss them into a large saucepan, then pour in two litres of water, and bring it to the boil. Reduce to a simmer, and let it bubble away for half an hour.

2. Strain the now-purple water into a heat-proof bowl, and discard the cabbage. To the water, add four tablespoons of salt and four tablespoons of white vinegar, then stir it around until the salt dissolves.

Step 2: Prepare your eggs

1. While you're making your dye, hard-boil your eggs (and whiten them as per above, if needed)

2. Take a walk around your garden, or along your street. Look for small leaves and flowers in pretty patterns that catch your eye, and gather a little collection to take back inside

3. Cut off pieces of the old pantyhose, about 10 centimetres long each. Tie a knot in one end.

4. Now take one of your leaves or flowers and press them against one of the eggs. Put the egg and plant into the piece of pantyhose, and pull it tight before tying a knot at the other end (see below). Repeat this step for as many stenciled eggs as you hope to make

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Step 3: Wait for the magic to happen

1. Gently submerge your pantyhose-egg in the bowl of dye. You might want to mix things up by submerging some non-stenciled eggs, too, so you have a variety of plain and patterned eggs when you're done

(Pro tip: if your eggs are bit old and you find they're floating, pour the dye into a taller, more narrow vessel - I used a large vase - then once the eggs are all in the dye, lower a piece of cloth over the top. I used a Chux wipe. As the cloth soaks up the dye, it submerges, pushing the eggs down with it without marking or scratching them the way a more solid weight would do)

2. Leave the eggs in the dye for as long as you like. About an hour will give you a lovely, pale, blue. Several hours or overnight will turn them indigo

3. When you take the eggs out, gently cut them out of the pantyhose, and lift away the plant. It should reveal a beautiful, stenciled pattern

4. Place the eggs on a wire cake-rack to dry completely, before using them for your Easter decorations

Two final words of advice:

1. After about 24 hours, the dyed eggs turn from blue to more of a turquoise or aqua. They're still beautiful, but bear this in mind if you're being all strategic with your colour scheme

2. Ideally you'll want to do this project on a warm day with the windows open: our house really stank of cabbage!

Happy Easter dear friends, if this is something you celebrate. What are your plans? We're off to visit family in Bendigo, then helping to host an Easter egg hunt in our local park, followed by a roast lunch for 13 friends in our home, and then a day off on Monday to recover. See you on Tuesday!

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The poppies

Last week at the Melbourne International Flower & Garden Show I stopped by a stunning garden of trees set around a lake like an oasis, with drifts of brilliant, crimson, crocheted poppies in clusters around it. Looking through the foliage and across the lake, the poppies continued all the way down, into some sort of field. When we stopped to admire them, Scout asked me to help her onto a rock and would I please take her photograph. This is quite rare. She patiently allows me to point a camera at her all day long but rarely requests it, and never before has she deliberately set herself up to pose with a backdrop in mind. As I was helping her onto the rock and pulling out the camera, a man lightly touched my shoulder and said “That is perfect. That garden was made for her. I made it for her.” I smiled and thanked him as he walked away, but was distracted moments later as Ralph started crying and the crowds were growing thick and we’d managed to lose both grandparents and when I turned back to Scout, she had decided to lie down on the rock and was pretending to snore. It was only later that I realised I’d bumped into the creative director of this whole amazing oasis, award-winning landscaper Phillip Johnson, and it made me so happy to think that he’d enjoyed seeing my daughter interact with his garden (which, incidentally, was an ANZAC tribute garden, making beautiful use of the handmade poppies contributed by volunteer-crafters from across Australia for the 5000 Poppies project).

So, belatedly, thank you for your kind words Phillip. We loved what you created and why you did it!

Melbourne dispatch - Flower & Garden Show

Yesterday was all about gardens and grandparents at the Melbourne International Flower and Garden Show.

We peered through the windows of cubby houses bigger than most apartments I've lived in, and up at bird houses not much smaller. We explored water gardens, cottage gardens, Australian gardens, edible gardens, gardens for birds, gardens for bees, gardens for native creatures, gardens for walls.

Crimson, crocheted poppies lay in stunning swathes on the banks of an entirely new lake. Under a shady avenue of trees, a grassy path meandered through waist-high fields of cornflowers that, last week, didn't exist at all.

Mannequins loomed tall inside the historic Exhibition Buildings hall, clad in foliage finery. "I like this one Mummy, it is lubly!" breathed an excited Scout, about a Druid-like hooded cape made almost entirely out of bark.

Her Nanna bought her a little terrarium to keep in her room and, out of an entire stall of adorable little mini plant-worlds, Scout managed to choose the only ugly plant. "I love this because it is pink," she explained.

Ralph pulled faces from his pram and played peek-a-boo ("peep-bo!") from underneath the hood. He crawled around the grass and tried to charm random strangers into sharing their picnics with him. He sat back down with us and ate three-quarters of a croissant, a banana, half a chocolate muffin, half a bucket of hot chips, several handfuls of blueberries, a piece of fish and half of another banana, and then looked at my coffee and my measly few crackers with cheese and said, "More?"

The Secret Garden

And then she took a long breath and looked behind her up the long walk to see if anyone was coming. No one was coming. No one ever did come, it seemed, and she took another long breath, because she could not help it, and she held back the swinging curtain of ivy and pushed back the door which opened slowly - slowly.

Then she slipped through it, and shut it behind her, and stood with her back against it, looking about her and breathing quite fast with excitement, and wonder, and delight.

She was standing inside the secret garden.

{Excerpt from The Secret Garden (Chapter 8) by Frances Hodgson Burnett; photographs by me from our recent visit to Lambley Nursery and Gardens}

The 10 best herbs to start growing today

Once upon a time, on my parents' property, I had a herb garden.

A really big, old-fashioned, formally laid-out herb garden. I grew herbs for cooking, and also for medicine. My poor family: they were my guinea pigs. I used to grind up herbs and squeeze them into glycerine tablet casings to make them easier to ingest. I made verbena-infused lemon butter and pineapple sage jelly and herb crusted pies.

At some point during the 90s, I wrote this:

"...My garden becomes a place of comfort: hard work, gentle rest, no need to swallow these herbal remedies for the healing to begin.

"Grape vines curl and twine up the walls and espaliered wire that anticipates their embrace. Old briar roses climb over one arch, filled with used and abandoned finch nests, and at the other end, jasmine pulls apart a flimsy metal gate. Different tastes and colours of thyme, marjoram, oregano and sage blend with camomile, tarragon, two types of parsley and lemon grass.

"In this garden comfrey grows in abundance - kept green even in the harsh summer by its deep tap root - tansy, horseradish and borage; onion chives, garlic, santolina and marigolds.

"Chinese allspice flourishes here with the rose-scented geranium, lemon balm smells so good I can almost taste it, mint, spearmint, cold and dark, French lavender fills a middle diamond, while coriander and tarragon spice the furthest end. Strawberries line the path, though few survive the birds' early morning breakfast - and a lemon verbena tree is a suitable diving board for the bellbirds to splash in and out of the birdbath.

"In summer, the basil takes hold, calendula marigolds go wild, and in some years, sunflowers are encouraged to wave their golden heads over the front fence."

It sounds like a rather heavenly place, doesn't it. It was.

Now, I have a tiny, one-metre square box in which I grow herbs and vegetables (although I'm working some extra hours and saving as hard as I can to have our tiny courtyard converted into a tiny garden to grow herbs and flowers and where the children can play. One day…).

But the good thing about herbs is that they grow just about anywhere and for just about anyone. And herbs are incredibly versatile, wonderful plants to have around: they smell good, they taste good, they look good, and many of them come packaged up with a generous dose of colourful history and folklore.

If you'd like to start a herb garden, these are my 10 favourite herbs to grow:

Basil Why? Yum! And also, oooh that smell. Cool folklore quirk: in medieval times, some 'experts' believed that if you laid basil to rot in horse dung, it would breed venomous beasts. I have not personally tried this.

Lavender Why? Purple flowers almost all year 'round. Crystalise the tiny petals and use them to decorate cakes; dry the flower heads and use them to give a relaxing and cleansing scent. Mildly antiseptic. Cool folklore quirk: "Lavender is of special good use for all the griefs and pains of the head and brain that proceed of a cold cause, as apoplexy, falling sickness, the dropsy, or sluggish malady, cramps, convulsions, palsies and often faintings." Culpeper, 1653

Lemon balm Why? You will never smell anything better. Beautiful to flavour summer drinks, jellies and jams. Cool folklore quirk: apparently taking lemon balm makes you live a long time. For example in the 13th century, Llewelyn Prince of Glamorgan regularly took lemon balm tea and lived to be 108.

Nasturtium Why? Grows rampantly and covers a big area with beautiful, sprawling, orange and yellow flowers. The flowers taste like pepper in a salad. Cool folklore quirk: native to Peru, nasturtium was first brought to Europe in the 15th Century by the conquistadors.

Mint Why? Takes your Asian salads to a new level. Not to mention your cocktails, your smoothies, your desserts… Cool folklore quirk: in Greek mythology, Minthe was a nymph who caught the eye of Pluto, the god of the underworld. When Pluto's wife found out about their affair, she turned Minthe into a plant. Pluto couldn't save her, but he gave her a wonderful smell that would get even better when someone stepped on her (!)

Lemon verbena Why? A beautiful little tree with rough, lemon-scented leaves that you can use in cooking or tea. Gives the garden soft shade in summer and lets the sunshine through in winter. Cool folklore quirk: I couldn't find one! Came to Europe from South America in the 17th Century (via the Spanish).

Calendula marigold Why? Happy, sunny, yellow and orange flowers. The petals are a nice addition to salads, and can also be used to treat pimples (true!). Cool folklore quirk: the name comes from the fact that it seems to flower just about all year 'round.

Parsley Why? To eat! In anything (savoury)! Cool folklore quirk: was used by the ancient Greeks to crown victors at the Isthmian Games. Can you imagine sticking parsley on the heads of our athletes today? Let's bring this tradition back!

Comfrey Why? Apparently full of vitamins, and has more protein in its leaves than any other veggie. Also does amazing things for compost. Cool folklore quirk: historically comfrey was considered a "miracle herb" that could fix all kinds of ailments and even mend broken bones.

Rosemary Why? Tastes great with meats and roast vegetables, grows into a beautiful hedge, smells amazing. Cool historic quirk: was believed to strengthen the memory and therefore became an emblem of fidelity.

Photos are of Scout planting and watering basil in our little garden box on the weekend

Flowers for the bees

Swaying in the morning breeze,
 Growing sunflowers for the bees. Loving the buzzing in the open air,
 In the flower garden bees are everywhere.

~ From "Flowers for the Bees" by Gregor Hacska & Zanni Louise

On the weekend I showed Madeleine and one of her little friends the green and growing things in our vegetable box. "These are baby tomatoes," I told them, "and these fuzzy yellow flowers are baby strawberries."

We talked about how plants needed sun and water to grow big and strong, and how we had to be patient before we could pick the ripe fruits and gobble them all up.

I think it is so important that we teach our children about where their food comes from, and how to care for the world in which they live.

Yesterday, my bloggy friend and children's book author Zanni Louise, and her musician husband Gregor Hacska, launched a fantastic online resource that will help get our children thinking about and enjoying these ideas.

They have created The Quincys, an interactive world of music, storytelling and ideas for children. Every month, you can use The Quincys as a resource to entertain and teach children (and yourself): Week 1 they will release a new song and video; Week 2 they'll tell a related story; Week 3 they'll suggest a fun activity; and Week 4 they'll share some fun resources and facts for learning more.

After breakfast this morning, I'm going to play their first song "Flowers for the Bees" for Madeleine, then take her into the garden and we will have a little chat about how bees need flowers and flowers need bees.

You can take a look at The Quincys here, and keep up on Facebook here

{Beautiful illustration from "Flowers for the Bees" supplied by Zanni Louise, and used with permission}