I Scream!

Here is FDPG eating a drumstick. A drumstick that I made with my very own hands (Sheila says smugly). Well, I say smugly because it was a little on the messy side (plus I was on the almost-despairing-to-the-point-of-throwing-them-out-the-window side). But I prevailed in the end, just like a Jane Austen heroine.

I got the recipe from Nicole at Baking Bites. If you click here you can too.

Idling the Summer Away

I love summer. I love having a break in the routine, too, although I'm seeing little signs here and there that my kids miss their school time. FDPG is sighted every so often, madly shuffling through her math and spelling books (when she isn't teaching Dominic how to write in Cushion Language), while Dominic has taken it into his head to listen to every 'Read Along' book he owns (a fair few, having inherited all of his brother's). Max, at the grand old age of eleven and a half, is less rudderless and far more sanguine, knowing that come September he'll be back to "all that work" I "make" him do (which in grouchier moments becomes "force"). He alternates between reading on his bed, doing the most involved and witty Lego plays for the twins, and taking FDPG to task for her (yes, even I admit it) very messy ways.

And I, I bask.*

*another in Sheila's longed for alternate reality moments

The garden is starting to produce in earnest now: peas, strawberries, raspberries, radishes, lettuce, carrots, potatoes, rocket, rhubarb, and buckets of herbs (fennel, dill, tarragon, mint, sage, rosemary, oregano, marjoram). Each morning we plop raspberries on our cereal and laugh at their wonderful tanginess. At dinner we have salads: salads of fennel fronds and chopped mint, salads of crunchy peas and radishes, salads of grated carrots and snippets of dill. We boil tiny new potatoes with mint and eat them with our fingers (and a sprinkle of Spike). Last night we had sushi rolls bursting with fresh tarragon. For dessert I bake rhubarb and strawberries into crisps and crumbles. And in between we gaze lovingly (well, I do) at the peaches and apples and figs hanging on the branches of the trees. Or loll under the apple trees and watch the birds flit around the branches, drinking in the scent of the sweet peas. I tell my kids that they must remember these finger-stained and fragrant moments for when it's wet and winter dark outside.

It's memories like these I wish I could tie up and deliver to friends who ask wonderingly "Why do you like to garden so much?" I'd just hand it over, a neat little bundle, all warm and snug and colourful and oh so fragrant. "That's why I garden," I could say, "because of all that."

Drinking and Driving and Six year Olds

One of the running conversations we have in our house has to do with What Might Happen If.

What Might Happen If we fall off our very high deck whilst balancing on the edge. 

What Might Happen If we break something precious while doing something extremely stupid (especially if we were already told not to, ahem). 

What Might Happen If we lie about something truly critical. 

And so on. (feel free to insert your own drama) But the point being that there are certain actions that have, in Harry Potter parlance, unforgivable consequences (broken limbs, split skulls, lost trusts, broken-hearted mothers, or even worse - really furious mothers).

One of my usual scenarios features the concept of drinking (alcohol) and driving (moving vehicles). I have a lot of "what was I thinking?" memories from my youth, which is probably why I am slightly hung-up on it. Memories of careering across bridges in rickety cars with drunken boys at the helm. Memories of friends' brothers paralyzed for life after trying to tightrope walk electric lines at drunken parties. Memories of doing an awful lot of awfully stupid things while in an intoxicated state. Too much of something mind-altering combined with way too much exuberance and carelessness. The older I get the more mild surprise I develop that I managed to survive half that stuff.

So my new Official Motherly Advice to the kids is this: no matter where you are, or what time it is, I'll come and pick you up if you really need it. Even better, I will not be mad. Please remember this, I tell them. I will be very sad if anything were to happen to you, I tell them. Very sad.

Yesterday we were out running some errands and FDPG told us all that she needed to get a cell phone. Why? I asked. For when I go to parties, she says. For when I need to call you to come and get me. That won't be for a while, I told her, you're six! Six year olds don't drink (peals of laughter from the back seat at the hilarity of this). Ha, she says, that's what you think. I plan on being very busy when I get older and there might be drunk people around then. Can you come get me if I am on another continent, she asks? Not immediately, I say. Can FDPG get undrunk? Dominic pipes up, suddenly concerned at his sister's wild future. 

I can see this conversation is going to take on some interesting permutations. For all of us.

They're back...

No, NOT aliens. I'm not talking aliens. I'm talking children. As in mine. My kids come back today. All three of them. I knew I should've agreed to a longer visit. I'm not ready for them to come back. Wait! I haven't finished cleaning the house! I haven't cleared off the kitchen table! I still have to do something about That Pile in the bedroom! 

I have too much dignity to insert an actual photo but imagine me running around, much like a flustered squirrel, panicking at the idea of losing the peace and quiet currently enveloping the house. Ignore the Ron Sexsmith CD blasting out of the stereo. Tilt your head a bit at that windmill over in the corner. Concentrate. Yes, THAT peace and quiet. 

Sans Enfants

That's right, I am temporarily childless. Some I always knew she was crazy charming family member offered in a fit of insanity to have all three of my children over for a few days, to feed them too much sugar to give me a break in my routine. The fact that all three kids, as they were leaving, chorused "Now you can spend ALL DAY in the garden" just shows how little they really know me. Because, my little chickadees, the first thing I did after you left was go shopping. Yes, that's right - shopping. As in clothes shopping. In stores. I think I might even have entered a mall. Gasp. Does it get more exciting than this?

No. 

But I'm having fun not hearing the endless "You aren't really going to buy that, are you?" comments from my boys, not to mention the "Oh, mum, you need to get this!" (insert a gaudysequinedluridfurryfluffyandhorriblyinappropriate item of clothing here, held aloft by FDPG, who has inherited her mother's penchant for wearing slightly absurd clothing)

The garden can wait. 

For Sandy, Wherever I May Find Her

And Sebastian and Leila...

Thought you might like to see some pictures of your plants, none of which are dead (phew, says Sheila, wiping her brow nervously). First, the clematis, reposing comfortably against the pine and the mason bee house in the front yard. It has at least 30 little buds on it. I was a little concerned at first because nothing seemed to want to live in that bed, so I dug out the soil and replaced it. The clematis seemed gratified (just call me Sheila the Plant Whisperer).Next, one of the Monkey Trees. The very happy one. Its a very luminous shade of green. It's protecting the blackberries from those marauding children of mine. Here is the other Monkey Puzzle. It isn't quite so happy, and has told me some very distressing stories (Sebastian? anything you'd like to tell us?) but it has a nice view and hopes to return to its former glory soon.









How can it not, with this to look at every day? Apparently the artichokes and the Monkey Puzzle share a common ancestor (I know, I know, sounds bizarrely far-fetched, but that's what it told me - and I know better than to express skepticism in front of a Monkey Puzzle tree, however small and spindly)





I've told it that when it grows up a bit more it'll be able to lord it over the perennial border. This cheered it up immensely - I can tell it has bossy impulses.

Weekly Update

Now that summer is officially here I notice I'm posting less. I've finally decided to deal with the mess we developed over the winter. We've been reworking some of the rooms in this house, because they weren't working as is (they sound like something on sale at IKEA, don't they). And I've been trying to manage the mountains of paper I seem to accumulate. I can tell that I worry Richard in this regard: I can tell he thinks I have Old Woman Smothered by Piles of Paper in Her Own House headlines in me. But it's hard to chuck out all those drawings the kids make. I find old ones and they have enough nostalgia in them to sink a ship.

I've also been working on the garden. I had been collecting beach stones from up island in order to make a long and winding path from the concrete walk to the road (a steep slope) but in a fit of "I hate that spot under that stupid pine"- itis I used them to make a long and winding bed. I laid down newspaper (5 less piles to smother me with later!), sod and several bags of fill and then planted the butterfly plants Max and I had collected. There is the beautiful varigated 'Harlequin' Butterfly Bush, the 'Yellow Sovereign' Phygelius, a silver edge Lavender, and a 'Red Fox' Veronica. And since the adjacent bed was bursting slightly at the seams (who knew Jacob's Ladder could spread quite so fast?), I removed some plants from it and added them to the mix (geraniums, marigolds, evening primroses, and rock plants).
Then, seeing that the pansies were getting the Dreaded Mildew, I went and bought something to replace the ones in a wooden planter I bought last summer. Here it is with some new plants.

The top bit has a 'Shadowdancer Betty' fuchsia while the bottom part has Selaginella 'Aurea,' Corsican Mint, and Pratia 'Celestial Spice' in it. And some more rocks. I like rocks.









Here's a closeup of the bottom bit (you can click for Added Depth). I'm half in love with it, I think. I love the different shades of green.
I'll put up some pictures of the Family Room (where the school stuff is kept) when I've officially finished, providing I don't get smothered by papers first. Here is a picture of the room after I emptied the bookcase (which was driving me nuts and was the real reason I needed to redo this room:


Now, I feel compelled to point out that those piles aren't always there - they are from the bookshelves. Ahem. Just so we all know. I'm not really that messy.

Other amazing feats I've managed this week:

I have discovered that I like potatoes when I grow them myself.

That dust follows me where ever I go.

That my kids still expect me to do history and botany even though it's summer.

And, most amazing of all, I can now get Toffee to close his eyes, roll onto his back, and purr all without touching him. All I have to do is repeat "Toffee, Toffee, Toffee" over and over again, in a soft voice. Pretty amazing, eh? Ha. I can see you all seething with envy at this. Yes, some of us spend our summers beefing up our Latin skills, or taking up Greek, some of us learn to quilt, or go overseas and visit enlightening museums, but I, I have managed to get a cat to turn over and purr on my command. I consider that a well-spent first week of July.