A rainy day with little fellas.

It is a wet and rainy school holiday Wednesday today and my first proper day at home in a week or so. The boysies are well rested and as a result, human like and pleasant. AND raring to do some 'crafting'.

Usually when I decide to do a craft with them, I forget they have their own strong ideas about the outcome which is, always, completely different from my concept. Strangely, just as I have let go of controlling the process, we are starting to be on the same page.

Watching them work makes me realise how important it is to do your own creative work in front of them so they can see paint brushes being used with respect, understand how important good tension is in sewing and how wonderful colours can be when they are not all mixed into sludge brown.

Lunch time and then a nap. Wahoo.

p.s. I just can't get enough of the Spring in the garden.

'Super - Cute Crochet'.

If anyone has been wondering where this little fella comes from, it is 'Super - Cute Crochet' by Nicki Trench and is absolutely fantastic. Great instructions and one of those very rare books where you are tempted to make every single thing.

Blue... but just the colour, not the emotion.

Bluebells and daffodils from the garden.
My new mug (yippee-yay) and violets from the farmers' market.

Beads waiting for me to make a pattern with them.

Sunday morning chooks.

With every group, there always seems to be one individual with their own plans. On our farm, it is a chook. We have six hens who live in harmony with our dogs, cats and boys. Their house is down in the orchard, covered with passion fruit vines and by pink and white blossom trees. Every morning they make their way up to the garden, weaving their way through the red-stemmed dogwoods, up past the clumps of bluebells and onto our long, thick green-leaved lawn. Five of them cluck together, rushing over to see bleary eyed worms sticking their soft heads out to the morning light. They all take quick darts with their clacking beaks and jump up and down with agitation and excitement.

One little chook always walks away, instead jerking its wrinkled feet through the dew to our veranda where it then pecks away at the concrete, cleaning up all of the boys' crumbs from the previous day. It is now so bold and curious that when the boys are watching their morning cartoons, it comes to the door, taps its beak on the frame and studies them, her head tipped to one side. If they move back slightly from the door, she jumps through and strolls past the Lego, tapping the odd Morse coded signal and smashing any left over rice bubbles that have jumped out of a breakfast bowl.

We chase her out of the house after a couple of minutes because somehow, sense kicks in that perhaps it is not a good idea to let a hen have run of the house. Also, our home is chaotic enough without chooks roosting as well. And there is always the thought that tomorrow morning she will return.

I admire her because she isn't afraid to test the boundaries, to try new places and not become discouraged by rejection. There is something in her that makes her less fearful and I wish from the tips of my ears to the ends of my toes that I could have some of this too. My life is threatening change and I want to be able to embrace it, to not be weighed down by fear of the unknown. Maybe I could practise bravery by banging my nose and teeth against the concrete floor too, or instead, maybe I could just go upstairs and write my application forms, saving my bones from breaking unnecessarily. Where is that pen...

Helper and Horror.

Sorry, I know I have posted a similar photo but I haven't any more recent ones (note to self, try not to take photos just of craft things). I walked down the stairs announcing my decision to do an hour's clean up tomorrow morning. On being asked whether they were going to be helpers or horrors, Archie firmly said "Helper" and Hugo obviously decided honesty was the best policy with a loud yell of "Horror". That about sums it up.

Care package trays...

My mother-in-law came around the other day with this tray of love and baked goods. She certainly know how to cheer someone up. Thank you Maureen.

Funny things and good things.

Hugo has named him "Captain Doggy".
Even though he is only going to be with us for a little while.

Some wildly exciting plans for a suit left casually on the stairs.

I am still looking at all the good things around the house, trying to redirect my brain towards joy rather than world wide misery and destruction. I think it is actually working thank goodness 'cause I woke with a little bit of grumpiness hanging around the corners and I managed to banish it by thinking of things I would like to make, doing a tiny bit of yoga when I got out of bed and prioritising a few magical things for the day (that is why I am blogging so early).

Both boys are at home this morning, Archie is on the mend but still has a slight earache so the pompom box will make an appearance. I am thinking about making a pompom wreath for Christmas as a project with them so another good thing to raise the serotonin a notch.

I hope everybody else is scheduling a serotonin boost in their day too. xxooxxooxx.

p.s. The dog is the funny thing, not me just in case you were waiting for a funny story. Nothing funny going on here. We are all just sitting around seriously, thinking good things of course, but completely devoid of humour.