Winter solstice

I welcomed the sunrise on the morning after the winter solstice in the solitude of my still-sleeping house. The first cup of tea of the day was beside me on the window-sill, making miniature mist on the cold glass.

Slowly the long, long night - the longest night of the year - burned away into grey dawn. The first light pierced the antique glass above our front door, now pink, now gold, and soon the whole room swam with morning. Upstairs, my family began to stir, and the day began.

My winter coat, draped over a chair to dry, still smelled of damp earth and woodsmoke from the previous night's solstice bonfire (a bonfire which, thanks to a week of rain, had taken a lot more coaxing to ignite and somewhat lacked the primal oomph of last year's fire, but was nevertheless beautiful and brilliant in the end).

On the solstice night there had been a tiny break in the clouds as we waited for the bonfire to catch alight and, seeing it, Ralph had yelled "The moon! I want to touch the moon!" We showed the children the Southern Cross, and the two Pointers that show the way, and, glowing steadily directly above the moon, we found Venus. Ancient fires and rocks, all of us, spinning and hurtling through millennia, marking the dark days. And the light ones too.

As the morning's temperature crept into double digits, I ventured into my frost-melty garden to dig and plant and prune, and to think some alone thoughts about winter and hibernation and stillness, and about all the quiet rest and rejuvenation that happens underground, for life to burst forth life in spring.

Tiny letters

I've made something for you! Tiny handmade envelopes, created from the delicate, antique, tissue-paper that separated each of the old postcards I set free a few weeks ago.

I kept the tissue when I posted the 100-year-old cards, and traced, hand-cut and pasted each individual piece into a miniature envelope.

What better words to place inside a tiny envelope than a tiny poem, so I copied haikus and senryus onto tiny pieces of paper, then slipped one into each envelope, and sealed it with wax.

Would you like to receive your own tiny poem in a tiny envelope, handmade out of antique tissue, in the mail?

I made 54 tiny letters and I am happy to send them to you anywhere in the world. What will your poem say? Will it speak to something you know, an ah-ha moment that reminds you that you belong in this world? Will it trigger an old memory? A sweet memory? Bittersweet? Or maybe it will simply be a bold imagining, taking you somewhere, or some-when, you have never been.

If you'd like to receive a tiny letter in the mail with a mystery haiku, share your address using the form below and I'll post it to you straight away. As I promised with the postcards, I'm happy to send one to your friends and family too, if you want to send me their addresses.

The mail will be sent on a first-come-first-sent basis, and I'll update this blog post when I've run out of tiny letters.

Yours sincerely, Naomi xo

UPDATE: 10pm Melbourne time, 17 June 2016 Thank you to everyone who responded to this fun postal project, I'll send out your tiny envelopes in the next couple of days. I hope you like them! I've run out of tiny envelopes for now but to anyone who missed out, feel free to subscribe to my blog to be among the first notified of any future mail-projects, and hit me up for some free mail-art while you're at it. Have a wonderful weekend!

Anticipation

When you are nearly four, anticipation is palpable. Tangible.

It dominates your mealtimes. What will my cake look like? Will all my friends sing Happy Birthday? Can we have hot chocolate?

And your friendships. I am nearly four. Am I older than my other friends? Will my hair be longer than all my friends' hair now? Will my feet be bigger than all my friends'?

Cleaning the house before your party, you don't even mind hiding your toys to make room for the party games. You can put them away now, Mummy, I don't mind. You help your mother decorate the house with the posters and banners and streamers and balloons you chose from Big W; mix up polymer snow-powder; smooth out tiny, handmade, paper snowflakes in your little almost-four hands.

Anticipation permeates your dreams. Quick! I have to get ready for my party! you yell, still fathoms-deep in sleep. (I will come to your party, your brother drowsily replies, before sinking back into his own dreams.)

................................

I didn't want to host yet another party in my house, but Scout begged me to do it. She didn't want to celebrate her birthday anywhere else. It was a lot of work, as parties always are. But in the weeks and days beforehand, as the day grew near and nearer still, I came to understand the joy of anticipation through her eyes. Even the most mundane of tasks: tidying, vacuuming, grocery shopping; became acts of thrilling expectation, and gave her joy before the real joy of the party.

I guess we never stop learning from our children.

Animal etiquette

"No animal, according to the rules of animal-etiquette, is ever expected to do anything strenuous, or heroic, or even moderately active during the off-season of winter." - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows

We are recovering from Scout's fourth birthday party yesterday. As luck would have it, today is a public holiday, so I intend to be unheroic and inactive, all day. Back soon! xo

Brown paper packages tied up with string (or: 5 mail subscriptions to boost your creativity)

Who doesn't love a surprise present in the mail?

I’m a big fan of mail subscriptions, and have been known to sign up to more than a few of them over the years. For most, you pay a flat rate, and receive a themed gift in the mail every month (or week, or whatever you’ve signed up for).

Is this something you might like, too? In case it is, here are five subscription boxes to boost your creativity, or that of your children, that I think you might enjoy:

1. Busy Bee Stationery What's in the box: a curated selection of stationery, generally between five and 10 items. The creators say "We choose items that inspire creativity and help you with your everyday note-taking, planning, journaling and letter writing." Each box is developed around a theme, season, or specific creative project.

Cost: $39.90 Find out more: busybeestationery.com

2. Bookwormz What's in the box: newly-released books for children, selected by former editor Lizzy Fowler, accompanied by a creative gift designed to spark the imagination, a parent-card, and a colouring competition. The boxes are designed to foster a life-long love of reading by channeling the excitement of receiving a gift into the joy of discovering new books.

Cost: $34.99 plus postage Find out more: bookwormz.com.au

3. Pairings Box What’s in the box: three gourmet recipe cards, one or two premium ingredients to go with the food, a seven-inch vinyl record with music from rising artists to match the mood of the food, and a download code for a full playlist.

Cost: $25 plus postage Find out more: turntablekitchen.com

4. Little Passports What’s in the box: depending on the age-group you select, a first month’s subscription box includes a suitcase, a “passport,” wall-sized wall map, welcome letters from “pen-pals” (characters created by Little Passports), and activity sheets. Boxes in subsequent months feature new themes, such as countries, animals or music etc, and include items such as letters from the pen-pals, souvenirs, activity sheets, stickers, adventures and photographs.

Cost: starting at $11.95 Find out more: littlepassports.com

5. Goodie Box What’s in the box: creative, craft and stationery supplies such as gift wrapping, paper craft, DIY projects, and a poster with ideas and inspiration on how to use the contents of the box.

Cost: $35 plus postage Find out more: blankgoods.com.au

Pistachios and eggs

Recently I purchased a time machine. It was humble to look at: a recipe book, printed in 1893, called Cakes and Confections à la mode by Mrs de Salis.

You know how scent and taste can transport you to a moment in your past? Take you right back to that first bite, and to everything that happened around it? This book represented someone else's food memories (Mrs de Salis' food memories), and I knew that her words on the page, if I followed them, had the power to carry me backwards 123 years in time.

Mrs de Salis was a famous home-cook, the Nigella Lawson of her time, with a best-selling range of "à la mode" titles covering everything from "Dressed Game and Poultry à la mode" to "National viands à la mode" and even "Floral decorations à la mode," among many more.

But that was a long time ago, and her techniques are foreign to me, and some of her ingredients even more-so (angelica? alum? greengage? ammonia!? pyrogallic acid!?). How were these cakes supposed to taste? I have no idea. What did they look like? Again, no idea. Mrs de Salis leaves no hints, assuming that her readers are already familiar with these types of dishes.

But if I attempt these recipes, and follow them faithfully, I will be stepping into a late-Victorian kitchen. Cooking by the light of the window, squinting over the words on the page as the afternoon shadows gather, by candle-light or maybe, if I am lucky, gaslight. The fire burning in the cast-iron AGA stove keeps me warm. There must be hens in my yard because many of these recipes call for copious numbers of eggs. For the same reason, I imagine I will be serving up smaller slices to my family than my 21st-century counterpart might do; these recipes read heavy! Victorian-era Naomi will have wonderful muscles in her arms, patiently grinding almonds or pistachios into meal to be used in place of flour.

In the process, lost flavours are rediscovered, forgotten meal-times reignited. This is time travel.

Pistachio Cake (Mrs de Salis, 1893)

Blanche a pound of pistachio nuts and pound them in a mortar with a little orange-flower water. Then add the beaten white of an egg and a little grated lemon-peel, six ounces of castor sugar, the yolks of ten eggs beaten lightly, and the whites of eight beaten to snow. Mix all the ingredients thoroughly, have ready a buttered mould, and bake for an hour in a moderate oven. When cold, ice it with pistachio-nut icing. 

Ten eggs, my friends! Yeesh! Also, as far as I can see in my book, Mrs de Salis doesn't actually supply a recipe for pistachio-nut icing. She does however provide a general icing recipe, which I have copied out for you here:

Icing for Cakes (Mrs de Salis, 1893)

Take some icing sugar, mix twelve ounces of it, and mix it in gradually to the whites of four eggs whisked to a stiff froth, beating it well to make it smooth; mix in the strained juice of a lemon and two drops of pyrogallic acid*, and lay the preparation on the cake with a very broad knife. Put it in a cool oven to harden, but be careful it is not hot enough to discolour it.

Let me know if you bake this. I'd love to know how you go.

* NOTE: Please skip the pyrogallic acid if you try this recipe, as it is apparently poisonous!

Scout says, Ralph says

"'If you knew how great is a mother's love,' Wendy told them triumphantly, 'you would have no fear.'" JM Barrie, Peter Pan

Ralph has taken to calling me "Big Mamma," which is not particularly flattering, but relates adorably to "Little Mamma," his sister.

During an argument... Ralph: I put you in the bin, Scout! Scout: Well, you're not my best friend. Ralph: I DO want to be your best friend! Scout: Then say I am not in the bin. Ralph: I put you OUT of the bin! Scout: Alright, what balloon would you like?

And more about misbehaviour... Me, to Ralph: Can you please be a good boy today? Ralph: No! I will be A. Naughty. Boy! Me: Please? Ralph: NOOOOOOO! Me: Oh dear. I feel sad when you are naughty. Ralph (cuddles me around the neck): Alright, I will be a good boy. Scout: I will be naughty!

Ralph: Mummy? Me: Yes? Ralph: I'm lovely to see you, Mummy.

Scout: Mummy, you are a queen and you will look the same when you are a little old lady.

Me: Scout, thank you for doing such a great job tidying up the play-dough. Scout: You might want to give me something for that.

Lunch time. Sandwiches apparently give the children magic powers, and Ralph is determined to do what he calls "naughty magic"... Me: Quick Scout! Eat some magic sandwiches so you can counter Ralph's magic spells! Scout (takes a big bite of her sandwich): One, two, three... (get it? COUNTer?)

Ralph: This is a lovely autumn day for a chocolate milkshake.

Music teacher is handing out maracas to all the children... Me: What do you say, Ralph? Ralph (brandishing maracas): Let's rock!

Scout hands me a fist full of coins... "This is for you because you never have any money. Now put it in your purse so you don't lose it."

Ralph: Do aeroplanes have bladders for their wee?

Kids have been arguing and yelling at each other all morning... Me: Hey guys, can anyone remember that I told you this was a No Fight Day? (long pause) Ralph: No, it IS a fight day! Scout: Yeah it IS a fight day! Both kids: Fight day! Fight day! Fight day! (united at last)

Scout: Mummy, I want to keep you.

The first of June

Last night I had a dream that it snowed in Melbourne.

I was awake before the rest of my family and I looked out into the still-dark garden and saw whorling white. Raced upstairs, and woke everyone up. We played in the blanketed garden in our dressing-gowns until we were all wet and frozen, and then came inside for hot baths and hot chocolate.

The mornings are growing colder. My garden is gathering into itself for the coming winter dark, and thick steam from the shower in our cold house has more than once set off an over-enthusiastic smoke alarm.

Comfort-food cravings. Warm, oatmeal porridge in the mornings. Hands wrapped around steaming mugs of tea, cold fingers tingling against hot porcelain.

I return inside from training climbing roses, tending straggly gaura, pruning back salvia, and wash my cold-stiffened hands. Boil the kettle for a cup of tea. Sit down to write another postcard, and make tiny envelopes out of century-old transparent paper.

(Smells like old books).

Mail art: four assorted

I only have four mail-art packages to share this week. The cylindrical one at the bottom was quite a challenge to create and paint, but a lot of fun as well. Selise told me she loved marigolds, so I was determined to give it my best effort. Want to know what was inside? Cereal boxes!

On the river

"Almost the still reflections quiver, the tranquil Evening reach of the silver-dreaming river Stirs with expectant life. Now sound swells louder, Fills all the hollows of silence and overflows As the steamer rounds a bend and churns upchannel."

From the poem Paddle Steamer by Nancy Cato (1957)