A Quilty Kind of Day

On Sunday I attended my very first quilt workshop. It had been a long anticipated event, and a whole day dedicated to the art of quilt design, embroidery and beautiful fabrics is an event I hope to repeat again some day.  Being naturally shy I am not usually one to go along to these things on my own (I tried to talk my relatives and quite a few of my friends into coming with me, but it is a strange phenomenon with me that most of my friends are non-sewers)! But the temptation of these two illustrious women in the quilting world, was too much, and I braved the workshop alone.

I will admit to being a leetle bit star-struck when I suddenly realised that the lady talking to me at my table about the pesky possums in Australia was none other than Rosalie Quinlan. And I learned that (incredibly) possums in Australia are protected, when her friend Leanne Beasley joined in the conversation.

Leanne took a class on quilt design which I enjoyed so much. From design elements to creative inspiration, right down to the math side of quilting, she made me feel that it's possible - even for this most math-phobic person - to design my own quilt. She talked about incorporating handwriting into the stitchery of a quilt - an idea that I loved.  I took a ton of notes, and when I saw a gap in the crowd of people around her, I asked her to help me pick out some fabric to go with a quilt that I want to design for my bedroom. I am so thrilled with what she chose, and am looking forward to getting into it soon.

Leanne is the designer of the quilt that I am working on at the moment. You can see the finished version here. I am only on block 5 at the moment.

I spent all day learning how to design quilts, and refining many embroidery and applique stitches as Leanne and Rosie demonstrated them to us. Chain stitch, satin stitch and needle-turn applique.  As Leanne said, needle-turn applique is used if you want our quilts to become heirlooms.

Rosie demonstrated her reverse redwork stitchery on canvas and we all were given red hanky linen in our goodie bags. I think this will look lovely on a wall when it is finished.

Here is Leanne demonstrating her needle-turn applique. I stood behind this lady with the dreadlocks and was almost as captivated by her hair as I was the needlework. I've never been so close to dreadlocks before and it might have made an interesting study.

I loved looking at all the quilts and little stitcheries that the two ladies brought with them from Australia.

We were fed very well too - such yummy food. I took a photo for Robin as I knew he'd ask me what we had to eat. There was a delcious minty pea and spinach salad with feta. I'd like to try and make that.

Both Leanne and Rosie were so generous with their patterns and I've come home with a folder full of ideas and inspiration. My favourite part of the day would have to have been the design part and having Leanne help me with my next quilt which I'll blog about some other time when I have something decent to show.

A Lesson In Car Mechanics

Lesson number 1. When your kids get out of the car, make sure they have turned off the overhead lights and that they have shut their doors properly.

Lesson number 2. Be sure you know where your husband keeps the battery charger.

Lesson number 3. Be sure you know how to open the hood of the car and identify the battery.

Lesson number 4.  Make sure that the battery charger works. And is not broken.

Lesson number 5 and the most important lesson of all.....

Be sure that you have got good neighbours - especially a retired farmer who keeps a handy battery charger in his shed and will pop over with it at the drop of a hat and will loan it to you for the afternoon.

Final point: It doesn't matter if you don't know diddly about car mechanics. It's the neighbours that count!

A Day Like This...

So often, I think, we mother's send ourselves on a little guilt trip if we are not running all day long, looking after our children, tending to the house, taking care of errands and little jobs and visits, cooking up fabulous meals and keeping the place neat and tidy and dust free.
I know that I certainly feel like that most days. Once my feet hit the floor in the morning, it's pretty much non-stop until the kids go to bed at night. Then I collapse on the couch and get a couple of hours of relaxation before sleepiness sets in.

I know that at any one time, if I actually sit down and take half an hour to enjoy a cup of coffee quietly, that there is a list waiting of other things I could be doing, like sorting out the children's wardrobe's, or tidying up the bookcase, or clearing the ever-growing pile on my sideboard.

So on Tuesday I decided that I was going to have a guilt-free day. It was raining outside. The children were quiet and happily employed. I had a growing pile of ironing, and the bathrooms really needed cleaning, but I ignored it and set myself to enjoy a quiet day at home, enjoy the rain and enjoy the children. It was a rare day as I didn't have to go out anywhere. The end of term is approaching and things are winding down, and the weather put paid to any sporting events, and best of all, Robin volunteered to get pizza for dinner on his way home.

So I bought and downloaded a knitting pattern from here, set myself up on a comfy chair, listened to the children read, watched a movie, and later play Cranium with the kids.

It was  a lovely, lovely day. One out of the box. I really enjoyed it - not having too many 'jobs' to do - the essential ones were all done by 9.30am, and the children also seemed to enjoy a more relaxed pace.
And I finished the hat for Alice and I think she does look ever so fetching in it.

Days like these don't come along very often, so it was great to be able to make the most of it and enjoy every minute.

Dear Dot - Uncle Jiggy's 1895 letter

"Dear Dot,

I live at a place called the Sixmile, about 13 miles from Fortrose. I live in a big tent, and I like it very much.

My father has a State farm. We are going to clear bush every four months in a year.

The other day whilst falling bush I cut my foot with an axe, which cut the side of my big toe, but it is getting better now. My father had to put two stitches in it. 

"Six-mile will be a pretty place in summer. It is all bush. There are a lot of native birds here, the biggest being pigeons and kakiis. I have a little dog, which was a good rabbiter when we were living in Fortrose, and he seems to miss the rabbits here, as there are very few.

Yours truly,

William Rosie, (aged 14 years)

Six-mile, October 17, 1895 "

Our Little Folks, Otago Witness, 1895.

This is the letter and portrait of my Great-great Uncle Jiggy (as he was known to the family), otherwise known as William Rosie Junior. (And yes, he was part-Maori). While in the Catlins earlier in the month, we discovered more of the history of my mother's family, the William Rosie's.

They settled in an area of the Catlins called Haldane - which was a thriving little community with two schools, of which my Great great Grandfather was a member of the board.
The New Zealand government offered settlement farms for pioneers willing to clear the bush and farm the land. My Great great Grandfather took one of these (block 3), and as you can tell from the letter above, tent-living was the norm until the land was cleared. The families willing to take the bush blocks were given a sack of wheat and 10 pounds.

We drove through Haldane (pronounced, Hardin) looking for the acreage belonging to my family back in those days (it was sold in 1906). You would never guess that it was once a busy community - all that is there now is an old schoolhouse and farm land stretching for miles. We did find the land that my family had though - this is what is there now.... an old hall which has been converted into a woolshed.

Looking at this place it is hard to picture the bush and the tent and all those children of 115 years ago. When it rained and the wind blew (and it does alot in the Catlins) it must have been pretty miserable in a tent. But the native birds would have been splendid and living with the hope of something better to come. What I love are the letters. They bring my ancestors alive. I heard alot about my Uncle Jiggy from my grandmother - the imprint of his personality lingers when the stories are forgotten. The memory of a fun-loving, well-loved member of a large and loving family. These letters and seeing where they lived make them real and it makes it seem like recent history.
And I adore 'dear Dot' from the Otago Witness newspaper. I found a treasure trove of letters written to her from all kinds of children and places across the South Island. I will do another posting on those some time.

Red Sky In The Morning

In America they say,
Red Sky in the Morning, Sailor's Warning.

In New Zealand we say,
Red sky in the morning, Shepherd's Warning.

In my house, someone says,
Red sky in the morning, Meredith's Warning.

I sometimes wonder if she thinks the world revolves around her.

But as I write, the rain is falling.

A Recipe To Add To Your Hips

So I've given you plenty of warning. If you are without fear, read on.

This has become our favourite family treat. I use it to bribe the kids. If you don't want your children to fight - bribe them with this. If you want them to clean up their room to perfection, offer them some of this when they're finished. It always works!

My recipe is an adaption from Sophie Dahl's which is found here.

Peanut Butter Fudge

125 gms butter
500gms brown sugar
120 mls milk
250gms Crunchy Peanut Butter (I use Extra Crunchy)
Vanilla
300gms Icing Sugar (Powdered Sugar for you Americans who are reading this).

Melt butter in a saucepan over medium heat. Stir in brown sugar and milk and bring to the boil for 2-3 minutes without stirring.
Remove fromheat and stir in peanut butter and vanilla to taste.
Place icing sugar in a large bowl and pour the hot butter and sugar mixture on top. Using a wooden spoon, mix until smooth. Pour into a square baking tray and cool. Place in fridge. Cut into squares.
It won't last long enough to put into an airtight container.

Enjoy. And please don't report me to the food police!

Enid Blyton is responsible for this!

When I was 10 years old I wanted to be a spy. I wanted to dress up in disguise and spy on people and take down number plates and have suspicions about the next door neighbour, and write coded messages in invisible ink. My friends and I even made up a group called the "SIA". The Secret Investigation Association. We had exclusive identity cards, a password, and scanned the newspapers looking for mysteries to solve. It was a lot of fun.We did get into trouble once for making annoying phone calls to unsuspecting people in the Blenheim phone book, and we got into huge trouble at school for writing up our own SIA newspaper when we were supposed to be doing our studies.

These obsessions with spies and mysteries I credit wholly to Enid Blyton. She is responsible.
Nancy Drew, The Hardy Boys, Trixie Beldon and others were added, but Enid Blyton started it all.

She also started my obsession with children's books. When I got married, I nearly added, "and all my books' to the end of the 'worldly goods' part of my vows.
I collect old children's books. I have done since I was a teenager and earning my own money. My Dad used to despair everytime I came home with bagfulls brimming of old books from second hand shops. I still collect them, I just don't have so much time to get to the shops now.
Because we've had so many moves in our married life, the majority of those books have remained stored in cardboard boxes in the attic.

Until now.

Until I gave birth to a boy. How well do I remember those days when I agonized if he would ever learn his ABC's, let alone how to read. Well, something has happened in the last year, and he now has a voracious appetite for reading. He'll go through a book in 2 days. And I can't keep them coming to him fast enough.

And suddenly I find that history has repeated itself. Lying in reading in the mornings. Staying up late reading under the bed covers, and funny looking characters are starting to appear in my yard. I mean, who are these strange-looking people....? And what funny looking eyebrows they have.

At the weekend I got Robin to climb those steps into the attic and bring down those old boxes that haven't seen the light of day for 13 years. And we dived into a ton of Enid Blytons, much to Hugh's delight.
It was like meeting up again with old familiar friends for me. All those trips into those second hand bookshops were worth it.

I suspect we're going to be seeing more of these strange-looking characters hanging around until the Enid Blyton mystery series is used up. I do get a good deal of pleasure knowing that my investment of years ago is getting good use again and reliving some exciting times of my childhood through my children, who are repeating it.

This following series are the most popular at the moment.

Our Own Celebrity

I am not a buyer of the women's magazines generally, unless I'm desperate (and I mean desperate) for reading material. But this week we had to buy one, and it had to be, without question, the New Idea.

Our niece (the daughter of my husband's younger brother) , and the cousin of my children, Camilla Lees is featured on page 18 - right in between the Hoff and Justin Bieber!
She's the newest girl on the national netball team of the Silver Ferns.

As family members we're not supposed to make a fuss, but I think it's worth making a fuss about! It's to be celebrated, and we're very proud of it.
My husband's family do happen to have their fair share of high-achiever's among them, but a rising sports star in New Zealand is just peachy. And as a doctor-in-training, she's got a heap of brains too.
And my kids are thrilled, especially Meredith who started netball this year. And Millie, being the splendid, thoughtful girl that she is, sent her a signed poster of her provincial team, the Pulse (Wellington) which Meredith is overjoyed with.  Does it say something about Meredith's personality that the first thing she noticed was that she and Millie wear similar shoes?

So, if you get a chance to see a Silver Ferns game this year, look out for Millie. I know that we'll be trying to go along to at least one of the games.

It Is Not As It Seems

When we were in Queenstown (let me add here again that the weather was stunning. The. Entire. Week), our resort was situated on a hill overlooking the Frankton end of the lake, which is also the flight path for planes coming in and out of Queenstown.

We all loved watching the flights come in, partly because the planes were on a level with our apartment, and if we had binocular eyes, we would have been able to look right into those little plane windows, even the little private jet we spotted one day.

And because I was given a super, wonderful, love-it-to-death camera for Christmas, which also came with a telescopic lens I could get these following shots. But it wasn't until I uploaded them to the computer that we realised exactly what it looked like, and were stunned.

It looks like the planes are about to crash into the mountain, but there really is an airport just below and the mountain is further away than it looks. Still, we loved the effect of the photo, and just had to share!

Queenstown, I love you.

While the rest of the country sheltered from the rain and shivered and froze, we were basking in the glorious sunshine in Queenstown last week. The quiet, sunny, relaxed week before the madness that is the opening of the ski season.

And ok, we froze when we went outside, but the sun was out in her glory everyday, and that's what counts, right?

On most nights, as we lay in the hot spa pool at our apartment, we loved just listening to the quiet.
Central Otago has this amazing stillness on winter nights that you can't get anywhere else. The stars come out in their magnificance and there's not a breath of wind, or the constant noise around you that a city makes. When most people with any sense have tucked their cars away for the night because of the frosty, slippery slopes of Queenstown's roads, you can't beat that still night air. It's so cold that it takes your breath away, but there's a thrill in beating it. In knowing that the chill and the frost can't get you. Hot pool. Quick dash back in the night air in your bathing suit to the warmth of a fire and the indoors. (Which is probably why we all ended up with colds at the end of the week).

It was probably the last quiet week in Queenstown for awhile. There weren't too many tourists. We had some Americans staying in the apartment next to us, who we invited over one night for icecream. They were a bit younger than us and enjoying doing all the extreme sports. With the cost of everything being so outrageous we only managed the Gondola, but that was thrill enough for some of the children - and I didn't even attempt it. So I was happy to 'do' the bungy and the paraglide jump and the jet boat and the white water rafting vicariously through our adventurous neighbours.

I had great plans of doing some photoshoots of the children, and shopping, and visiting this and that, and some old friends we have in Queenstown, but actually, we were so tired, we mostly just crashed, used the pool and played games. I taught the older children how to play Monopoly, and we tackled a few jigsaws and watched some good movies.

A Taste of France in Queenstown

Before I post about the incredible scenery here in Queenstown, I have to  tell you about this beautiful restaurant we went to yesterday.
As prearranged, we met Robin’s cousin on Church Street at Les Alpes - a fairly new French restaurant here in Queenstown.

Robin’s cousin is a local and I am always amazed at the people she knows here - she knows everyone - and such interesting people too. As she said herself, Queenstown does attract all kinds of  people from all over the world.

So we met her at this lovely place and ordered coffee. It was surprisingly child-friendly too (though it may not be for evening dining unless they're very well behaved). There was already a young family there, and even though there were no specifically designated places for children, my kids seemed to be happy  just  wandering around the little eating area down the back of the restaurant, drawing on bits of paper that we found for them in our bags, and playing with some of the stuffed animals that the restauant had on the chairs, and indulging in the very sophisticated ‘fluffies’ (also known as coffee for children, which is not much more than fluffed-up milk) that we got them. My 5 year old, Teddy- even had the nouse (cheek) to ask the waiter to light the candle. Please. Anyone might suppose he is a restaurant connoisseur.

Such beautiful French décor with the wooden rush chairs, the wooden floors and the red quilted throws over the backs of the dining chairs, the red quilted pillows on the couches and the lovely, eye-candy French cuisine books scattered on the coffee tables. And then there was the large, high wooden dresser with plate, and the rustic wooden mantle over the fireplace. I’m going home inspired.

But the best part of our little sojourn was meeting Serge (thanks to Robin‘s cousin knowing everyone in Queenstown), a real, genuine French chef and owner of the restaurant, and he really did look French. I told him that we’d all been learning French for two years, and then thoroughly embarrassed myself when I couldn’t make out a word he was saying to me in his beautiful French accent and language. They do talk too fast! It took me a good hour to figure out that he asked me if I spoke very good French. Obviously not!

But it was interesting to hear how he and his wife had bought a little bit of France to Queenstown - he said they aimed to make Les Alpes feel like a French ski lodge - and it really did, although I have no experience on how a French ski lodge feels.

Right now, this week, it is my sole purpose in life to talk my husband into taking me back there for dinner sometime in the next year. I suppose it will take a year of saving up to do it, but I am determined.

And the coffee was exquisite.