Lurid. I think that “lurid” is the most appropriate adjective to use for the beanie I have crocheted for Miss Ten the elder.
(Description: multi coloured beanie, with crocheted flower on the brim, on a dark blue background)
She chose the wool. Her father thinks that the mix of colours might best be described as fairy vomit.
Miss Ten the elder is fond of shrieking colours. Here is the same beanie, on the subtly pink and orange bedspread that she chose for herself.
You go for it, girl!
In other craft news, I have a beautiful blue scarf, in garter stitch, made for me by Miss Ten the younger. It is the very first thing she ever knitted, and it is very precious to me.
(Description: small garter stitch scarf, in blue, with somewhat uneven rows and the occasional hole)
I have also crocheted a beanie for myself, and I have wool to make beanies for my other daughters. Plus I am knitting a square neck cardigan for Ms Thirteen. However, given my somewhat slow rate of knitting, I have suggested to her that she shouldn’t plan on having it in her wardrobe this winter.
For another gorgeous scarf, go take a look at what Megan has been doing: Fifty hours, 1400 rows, 1kg of yarn and a pretty munted wrist.
I’ve been in a bit of a flat spot recently, probably driven by Doing.Too.Much. I’ve even been uninspired about cooking, making standard meals from my basic repertoire, and not wanting to eat them. But I have just found out why that very last thing might be a problem.
Why Do Sandwiches Taste Better When Someone Else Makes Them?
By Daniel Kahneman
When you make your own sandwich, you anticipate its taste as you’re working on it. And when you think of a particular food for a while, you become less hungry for it later. Researchers at Carnegie Mellon University, for example, found that imagining eating M&Ms makes you eat fewer of them. It’s a kind of specific satiation, just as most people find room for dessert when they couldn’t have another bite of their steak. The sandwich that another person prepares is not “preconsumed” in the same way.
I think the solution is probably chocolate.
We have a new hutch for our guinea pigs, which is so large and grand that we have taken to calling it the Piggy Palace.
Our cat loves it.
(Description: Cat on top of large guinea pig hutch)
The guinea pigs don’t seem to be worried by the cat at all, and we have even seen them facing her down, through the safety of the wire mesh. In cat fashion, she retreats, and then sits nonchalantly washing her face, just so that everyone knows that she chose to walk away.
The piglets are enjoying their new space too. We have had them in a raised hutch during the cold and wet winter months, but now that the weather is warming up (notwithstanding recent snowfalls), they are down on the ground, skittering and scuttling about, and keeping the lawn down.
In other domestic news, about a week ago I sowed sunflowers, coriander, chives, swan plants, basil, spinach, capsicum, zucchini, iceberg lettuce, roma tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, pansies and pansies. All in biodegradable peat pots, carefully tucked into a mini greenhouse. A week later, the spinach and lettuce seedlings are up, and the sunflowers are starting to show themselves.
(Description: seed trays in tent-like greenhouse, about 60cm wide by 50cm deep by 1m tall)
I am looking forward to spring.
The Misses Nine burst out of school in a great state of excitement at the start of the year. Their friend’s guinea pig had babies and they were very cute and they needed homes and please, mum, please.
“Ask your father,” I said.
Their father likes to think that he’s firm and fair and loving with the girls. Mmmm…. whatever. He said yes.
Miss Nine the younger had fallen in love with one wee pig, called Dot, so we agreed that she could have Dot, and Miss Nine the elder could have one of the same sex – we don’t want to have proliferating guinea pigs. So a week or two later, home they came.
They’re small and brown and very cute. Dot has numerous cowlicks, and a small white dot on her nose. Tim has smoother fur, and she has a white “T” on her face. Yes, that name is challenging, genderwise, but we’re getting used to it.
The guinea piglets themselves are fun, but what I am enjoying most is seeing my little girls take responsibility for them. The girls are very conscientious about cleaning out their hutch, and feeding them. Every morning before school they pick a big handful of grass, and check that the piglets have enough water. In the evening they refresh the piglets’ hay, and give them some more food pellets, and chop up some fresh vegies for them. We’ve found that they like broccoli stalks, but not broccoli heads, that they’re not so fond of brussels sprouts, but they love apples and carrots. A couple of times a week, the girls clean the hutch out thoroughly, and replace all the bedding and hay.
But even better, they are actively concerned with the little creatures. They worry about their comfort, and cuddle them close, and speak lovingly to them. My girls have always had a fair amount of concern for other people and other creatures, but they seem to be learning how to translate that concern into positive action, thinking about what the piglets might need, and working out how to meet that need. And they have something small and cute and furry to love.
Dot and Tim send a snuffle and a squeak to Cardamom and Pepper.
In usual fashion, just as my garden is starting to look lovely, we are pulling up our roots, and moving house. The wrench is not too painful this time: I am glad to be heading home. But among the sadnesses of leaving Adelaide is the loss of our garden.
It took me a long time to get into gardening mode here. Gardening is soul restoring, but I have been rather unhappy during my time here, and that unhappiness has made it hard for me to push myself to get started on anything much. But the girls and I got a few things established, and this spring has been a delight, as we have watched a succession of blooms appearing.