The Garden - The Off Season.

Today is dreary. Yesterday was also dreary. I can see these dreary days stretching miserably into the distance. It's most definitely autumn now. Not the crisp, clear, sunny autumn I love, but the dull, flat, drizzly season that makes me want to stay under the covers.
The garden desperately needs my attention, and I have found any number of excuses not to go out there. The tomatoes that suffered in the heat have still not been cleared away, and the ongoing battle with powdery mildew has been resoundingly lost. I feel defeated by this garden nemesis. I've been fighting it off since the early spring when I treated everything with anti-fungal spray almost constantly until the dry weather of summer gave some respite. So far this year I've lost entire crops of peas and broad beans, and the cucumbers, zucchinis and pumpkins have been pathetic. Honestly, I've had 1 butternut pumpkin, 3 cucumbers and a handful of zucchini - hardly worth the effort.

One lonely butternut pumpkin; Powdery mildew - my gardening nemesis.

This gardening year has been a struggle, but I'm determined to make next year better, so I'm facing my fears today and I'm going to clear all the rubbish away. That'll surely make me feel a bit better. Next week will be a new start. I'm going to give the soil some much needed TLC with cow manure, compost, worm castings and a lot of digging. I'm thinking of giving some of the beds a rest and plant with clover, a green manure crop, which will then be dug back into the soil later.
I've already planted seedlings for a gigantic silverbeet variety called Fordhook Giant, which I'm planning to grow in pots to feed the chickens over the winter months. I'm hoping they're going to be abundant to keep my girls healthy and happy. Poor chooks, they've started their annual moult and are looking about as dreadful as everything else out there.

Pathetic tomatoes; Poor Selma - not the prettiest chook right now.

I mustn't get too down though, as there are still a few things doing nicely despite it all. Those capsicums are still making me smile. Quite apart from their amazing juicy crispness, they are just so cheerful. Like baubles on a Christmas tree. I've been amazed by the chilli plants, free from the spring garden festival, an unexpected bonus with long red chillis all over the garden. No idea what to do with them, but they are pretty. And I'm looking forward to harvesting my one pumpkin. Maybe I'll make a fragrant pumpkin, lentil and coconut soup to warm us up a bit.

Thank god for the capsicums; There's loads of them - 11 fruits on this plant; Chillis everywhere.

However, the excitement is mounting in the other garden, where olives are ripening now and I'm anticipating a few weeks of preserving coming soon.
I suppose life is like this. I feel better now I have a plan.

Olives ripening in the other garden.

A Certain Age - How I customised my new dress, and why.

Last week I bought a new dress. A simple enough transaction you'd think, but my feelings are so conflicted towards this garment.
I had admired another dress on a lovely friend of mine who possesses a certain style and grace. I was in luck. She'd got it in a mega bargain sale and would take me straight there without delay. I was excited to say the least.
The shop was one I had walked straight past a million times. There had never been anything in the window that caught my eye. It was a nondescript boutique, and I imagined, frequented by ladies of a certain age, from a certain middle-class family suburb. However, it turned out that the racks were packed with garments I would definitely wear every day, and I happily exited the change room with an armful of bargain goodies.
I spotted this dress in the far corner. I loved it from the get go and as soon as I popped it on I could imagine every daily situation. It's a useful dress, to be worn in hot weather to the dog park, the garden, the chicken coop, school pick-up, even to lunch if I was one of those ladies who lunch. It looks great layered over jeans and came in loads of colours, but the yellow was so cheery. It was 75% off - a grand total of $26. A no-brainer.

Cute as a button - the dress that wasn't good enough for a fashion snob.

I started to have misgivings as soon as I'd made the purchase. I had just bought a dress from a middle-aged, middle-class, lady-of-a-certain age, family-suburb type boutique. My ego silently screamed "No! You are a fashion designer from the fashion world. You wear designer dresses from upmarket boutiques that cost a lot of money." On the way home I spotted a lady wearing exactly the same dress in a different colour. She was 'of-a-certain-age' and not very fashionable. I was horrified, and I felt like such a cow because I was horrified. Conflicted most definitely.
I wore the cheerful dress to the dog park the very next day. Cute and comfy. The sunshiny yellow attracted a lot of compliments. I felt a bit better. Then one of my dog park pals, Georgie, admitted to having the same dress, and she's at least a decade younger than me. I spilled out my story, hoping for redemption. At the part where I mentioned middle-aged women from Malvern, I was suddenly struck by a thunderbolt. That is exactly who I am. She was amused at my discomfort. We were joined by another doggy pal, a lovely, friendly lady also of-a-certain-age. "That's a lovely dress!" she exclaimed. Georgie burst out laughing. It was too much for me. I haven't worn the dress since.
My excuse is that it's in the laundry, but deep down I know why it's really there. So after a bit of internal turmoil I have pulled my elitist, snobby, uppity self together and resolved to customise the offending garment.
Today I decided to dip-dye the hem and make it my own. I used a Dylon dye suitable for cotton, and dampened the bottom half of the dress and gave it a bit of a wring to crease it a bit so the dye runs up. I mixed the dye up according to the packet instructions, but halved all the quantities and made only half the amount as I didn't want too much liquid. I used a large stainless steel salad bowl for the actual dyeing. I rigged up the laundry rack in the backyard and used a plastic drop sheet under the bowl. I hung the dress on a plastic hanger on the rack over the bowl with the hem dipped in, and waited the 1 hour specified. I didn't do all the stirring instructed on the pack as I don't mind an uneven effect and I didn't want the dye to splash up onto the rest of the dress.

Waiting for the dye to fix. It looks beautiful already.

When the dyeing time was up I followed the rinsing / washing instructions carefully, but only for the hem part of the dress trying not to get any surplus dye on the un-dyed part. Then I wrung out the wet part really well so that it didn't stick back on itself whilst hanging and transfer unwanted dye. Whilst it was hanging on the line drying I decided to do a bit of hand stitching at the neck area. I was aiming for a Boho chic / Isabel Marant type look. Head in the designery type clouds, I know, but there's no stopping me now. I looked on the internet and found a tutorial for feather stitch. Just the look I was after.

Using a bit of baking parchment I traced a grid and pinned it on to make my stitching even. I'm quite pleased with that.

Once the paper was torn away, I couldn't believe my eyes. I absolutely LOVE my new dress now!

NOW I love it!

The End of an Era.

Today is the funeral of my beloved Grandma, know to everyone as Doody. She passed away quietly last week aged 100 years old. She was the last of her generation.
I feel melancholy rather than out and out sad. I'm not upset. I've hardly cried. It's not what I expected, and I feel conflicted. I feel that I ought to be sadder, but actually I feel relieved, for her and all those that loved her. Maybe it's because it was her time, or well beyond her time really. She lived her life well and fully, and left behind 3 generations that have felt her wonderful warmth. OK, now I' crying.
The last 4 years, since Pappa died, have been awful for her. He was the lucky one - he had a massive stroke and died the next day. Quick and clean, the way he would have wanted. They were a formidable team and a lesson to all on how to build and maintain a marriage over a very, very long time. They had celebrated their Diamond wedding anniversary and more.
When Pappa farewelled this mortal coil,  Doody found herself drifting, rudderless in a bewildering sea of loss. It was no longer possible for her to live independently, so she moved to a home for the elderly. She was a social lady, and we hoped for new friends and another episode in her twilight years, but it wasn't to be. After a nasty fall she was bedridden and dementia soon took hold. There followed four years of confusion and heartache, but it is how she lived that showed her calibre.

Young Doody; Doody and Pappa's wedding; Kate and I on holiday with Doody at Butlins - 1970

From the moment she welcomed my Mum, 5 years older than my Dad, a different nationality and a different religion, she showed her true warmth and strength. The expectation had been that my Dad marry his sweetheart, the daughter of a close family friend. Instead his adventurous spirit took him to Hong Kong to join the HK police, where he fell in love with a beautiful and exotic local girl from a good family. Doody fell completely in love with my Mum from the very start. There was not a drop of stuffy British prejudice in her, and so her loving and staunch support of my family began.
My childhood memories of Doody are pure magic. She was a young granny by today's standards, at 52, and we all benefited from her energy and vigour. I was the first grandchild. Lucky me. I had her for the longest.
My cousin, Kate, was next in line and only 18 months younger. Doody paired us up early on, and we would often stay with her together, just the two of us. I remember the long summers we spent, and all the brilliant and often hilarious stories we have to tell.
On one lunch outing, when we were very young, Doody wore a rather sophisticated turban style hat. We were nonplussed. I was anxious. “Doody, have you broken your head?” Kate piped up, “Don’t be silly, can’t you see she’s a magician!” Doody told us she never wore that hat again.
She fostered a close, life long bond between us. We are like sisters, even now with me in Australia and Kate in the USA.

Lee Bay in the front yard 1974 - I'm top left; Lee Bay in the front yard 2013 - I'm second from the right

2 summers running, some time in the 1970's, Doody and her sister, Aunty Mary, gave my parents a much needed break and took me and my siblings, 4 of us, on holiday to a fantastic old house, The White House, right on the beach at a tiny hamlet called Lee Bay in Devon. Aunty Mary's house keeper and her two sons came with us. We were a jolly party. The fortnight was spent picnicking on the beach, catching unfortunate crabs and tiny shrimps in the rock pools, and walking over the cliffs to the enchantingly gorgeous twin towns of Lynton and Lynmouth - 6 children - toddlers, strollers, the lot. Women were made of hardy stuff in those days! They were magical times, and not a theme park or iphone in sight. We visited Lee Bay last year on our UK visit. It's almost exactly the same and we re-created an iconic family photo right in the front garden of The White House. So many happy memories.
Our family moved around the country quite a bit when we were kids, so when it came to choosing a location for our wedding, Mr.B and I chose the my grandparents parish church. The roots I had there were stronger than anywhere else. Dood and Pop were delighted, and hosted a special family party in their garden the day after the event. No caterers here, Doody and other family members prepared all the scrumptious food themselves. It was an event in itself. Think clipped lawns, a white marquee, Pimms and smoked salmon -  a perfect English summer garden party to welcome Mr.B's family to ours.

Our wedding 1994 - Doody on the right in the navy hat, Mum on the left in cream

Doody and Pappa were so excited to welcome great-grand children, and the Misses Sand E were the first of their generation. We visited when the girls were 10 months. The oldies were beside themselves when we arrived, late, after the car broke down, with hungry babies. There was no time for proper introductions. Doody and Pappa got straight to it with a baby and a bottle each. The expressions on the faces of all 4 of them were priceless.

Doody and Pappa with Misses S and E 2001; Doody and the girls 2008 - the last time we saw them.

We visited several more times, but not as much as we should have or wished for. That's the price you pay for living so far away from family. The last time we saw Doody and Pappa was 5 years ago, when they were both still pretty sprightly. Our last goodbyes were raw and emotional. They knew it was the last time and held me so tight I thought I would pass out.
Today is bittersweet. They will be together again in a woodland grave site carefully planned  by Pappa. Let's hope he's still in there and hasn't been too badly damaged by badgers that have been digging in the area. His sister, my Great Aunty Gwen, will join them when her ashes are scattered there today too. It'll be nice for her to get out from under my Aunty's stairs after all these years!
So farewell, Doody. Here's to you, and hoping that the 3 of you are up there with a glass of sherry and a good game of Scrabble.