Recipes From An Old Book.

 I said I loved this book, something I came to the wrong way round ~ which is not unusual for me.  I saw the movie  in B&W  first, when I was a child, & only later realised it was a book ~ later still before I discovered one could acquire all sorts of old books if one had a computer & internet access.  It was the very first thing I think I bought online.

My copy does not have this nifty dust jacket.  It has no dust jacket of any sort & the laminate I covered it with is now cracked & pealing.  The pages are so old they are soft & feathery, easily torn, & to be handled with care.  It is a book I re~read often, delighting in the characters & that here is a book wherein there is no ugliness, no great conflict, but deep faith & a great peace.  It is no wonder I return to it again & again.

It is also a *notional*  book, full of quirky phrases, plants, & foods I have never heard of ~ like Juneberry trees & Floating Island puddings.

Just the name, Floating Island Pudding, entranced me.  What sort of wonderful concoction was this?  Though a little wary since I discovered Angel Food Cake consisted primarily of Pineapple, a food I consider so disgusting as to be inedible!  Anyway, I looked it up ~ eventually ~ which always tends to be an interesting exercise. 

This is a French dessert consisting of meringue floating on Creme Anglaise, though in all my born days it would never have occurred to me to poach meringue!  I swear the French are really odd.

I used this recipe: Floating Island Dessert

 I'm not sure the meringue is meant to look like this ~ & I am equally sure there is a single *island* version, but as there are just the 2 of us I went with the 2 egg version & cheated on the custard.  I don't have a double boiler & the dehydrated stuff is just as good to my mind.  I also skipped the spun sugar topping opting for plain caramel sauce but when I do it again ~ & I will as it is nowhere as difficult to make as I thought it was going to be ~ I will add fresh berries.

A Chook & a Book.

 So we have had our chooks for several weeks now & their distinct personalities are emerging day by day.  This is ODD's Nugget.  She is one of my regular layers just now, putting forth a pale pinkish brown, good sized egg most days.  She s my alpha.  When she goes into the nesting box all her handmaidens follow to escort her in state while she goes about the serious business of putting forth the day's egg.  When she is done, she announces the fact with the minimum of fuss & is royally escorted back into the coop.

Meanwhile Namaste is my largest chook, my noisiest chook & my best layer.  She announces the fact she is about her business loudly as she marches in solitary splendour up the ramp & into the hutch, cackling away at various points along the way.  When done, she proudly announces the fact long & loud as she marches back into the pen.  I get a large brown egg from her every day.

Despite a somewhat shonky start my little flock is starting to meld into one contented group who are now dust bathing in one large feathery mop.  I am greeted in the mornings by all 5 beaks pecking rapidly at their perspex window because they know jolly well I have brought the morning offering.  I make them wait, preferring to deposit their greens & top up their feeder in peace, if not quiet, before opening the hutch & letting them loose.

And they are learning the boundaries of where they are allowed.  Down the hill & in the bushes is fine.  My gardens are not ~ & if they venture there I turn the hose on them. Two of my rocks now have their full, bright red combs so are close to laying.  They are the sweetest, gentlest birds with incredibly soft, silky feathers ~ & as a friend says: You've never seen such pretty chickens!

Meanwhile the sad story of tooth fillings & sun cancer removals goes on so I am traipsing back & forth to the mainland twice a week & having run out of reading material reverted to an old, old favourite: The Friendly Persuasion.  I love the solid sense of place Jessamyn West manages & characters so real you can't imagine that somewhere, at some time, they didn't really exist.
She is also one of the few authors who can make me laugh out loud.

So I was sniggering my way through her short story, Yes, We'll Gather @ the River when This sentence leaped out at me: She held the eggs @ some distance from her, smiling down on them in what she didn't mis~doubt was a two~faced way, since she had forty Barred Rocks of her own all laying like a mill race, till Jess had said he'd cackle if he had to face another floating island or custard pie. And  for the first time I saw in my mind's eye what she was describing.  I must have read that sentence dozens of times over the years but this time I saw!  Because she is describing Barred Plymouth Rocks just like the 3 I have outside right now & immediately the whole picture came more alive because I know how Rocks are & what contented, happy birds they are.  Besides, it gives me something of a giggle to know that I have that in common with Eliza Birdwell, besides the preaching of course.  Besides the preaching.

My Angel has Tatts.

I babysat our Little Man Sunday afternoon.  Just a couple of hours, most of which was spent discussing where his mummy & daddy had got to while he was asleep.

As we had had some serious rain over the last 24 hours we only had a quick walk ~ no park ~ as the sky was still threatening & then played on the swing his dad set up for him.

I headed home again with just enough time before the sun set completely, leaving me to navigate in the dark, which I seriously prefer not to do, only as these things go nothing ever goes quite to plan.  As I headed  into the long stretch of road leading into Capalaba I noticed an odd thunking noise & the car pulling to the left.  Figuring this could not be good news I found somewhere to pull over & got out to investigate.  Yep.. One flat.

Now as a good little Girl Guide & a modern[ish] woman I do know how to change a tire.  The problem is that I can never undo the nuts a man has tightened & being stranded on the side of a busy road @ sunset was not my idea of joy.  So I fished my phone out to call my boy for assistance but before I got through a car heading past me backtracked & a rather large young man came over.  Everywhere that could be tattooed was.  He had an ear~ring ~  & biceps to die for. He works in a car body shop & he was so kind & cheerful as he changed my tire for me,  which took him all of 10 minutes. God is seriously good to me ~ & just for the record, my angel has tatts & his name is Jeff.

Herding Hens.

Having had chooks before I was reasonably confident that a treat, a calling sound & a couple of days practise was all that was needed to train my chooks to return to the pen. And they have certainly learnt to anticipate let out time! 

My lovely black girls, being older & wiser & a little more used to flock habitation, cottoned on after just one day.  The Rocks have been a little slower on the uptake. 

The oldest one has got it but the baby of the flock is invariably floundering round the outside of the coop, terrified I will scoop her up [which I invariably have to do], & seemingly quite unable to find the door, all the while clucking frantically.  She is also something of a loner though the other Rocks will *baby* her, cuddling up to her & allowing her to nuzzle into them while dust bathing.  She is my flighty one, @ the bottom of the pecking order & easily frightened, so yes, I keep a weather eye on her also when they are out & about.

As anyone daft enough to have done it knows, herding hens is not easy.  You get the stray one in & 3 more squeeze back out ~ so round & round you go.  After just once I locked the pen as soon as the majority were in & rounded up my strays one by one with the help of a long fishing rod. All this is necessary as I haven't wanted the girls out if I wasn't around so they have to wait till the MOTH gets home & I wanted them penned & fed before it gets really cold in the afternoons, as it still does. 

Today, seeing as it looked like being an eggless day & we were home, I let them out early while I worked around the yard.  These are hens  that enjoy human company so stay in my vicinity if I'm there.  They are good company, invariably interested in everything going on, & happy to scrutch about in the leaf litter or  make funny little chupping noises as they sun bath.  We had several pleasant hours & I was considering my treat options to lure them home with the least fuss when there was a sudden commotion.  My scaredy chook [named Ophelia because she will stand in the water dish], shot towards the coop frantically & every chook in the vicinity followed her.  All in & accounted for.  No fuss.  No bother.

Hankerings of a Celtic Heart.

When I was a little, little girl I loved fairy stories.  One of my very favourites was the story of The Wild Swans.  We had a beautifully illustrated copy of the Hans Anderson version & after the first time it was the only story I re~read again & again. I have no idea what any of the other stories were.

Until I was about halfway through High School I never, of my own volition, read a non~fiction book.  To me, they were dull beyond belief. My experience was the result of a scientifically minded brother who never read fiction.  His reading diet consisted solely of scientific books , the Guiness Book of Records & weird & wonderful scientific data that no~one in their right minds could possibly want to know about. Consequentially it was something of a shock to discover that not all non~fiction books were about math & science! Some were much more interesting.  There was this vague line that blurred fact & fiction & brought me @ last into the fascinating world of Celtic archaeology.

A long time later, wading through the Mythological Cycle of Ireland, I came across the story of The Children of Lir & was immediately struck by the similarities to The Wild swans.  Still in High School I had no idea about scientific comparison, no idea about the movement of peoples across Pre~Christian Europe or the Indo ~European languages, how artifacts were classified & recorded but I was intrigued to discover, again & again & again, that the old stories invariably told the Truth about things.  The example that really brought this home to me is the story of the harp.

Celtic stories often go into a great deal of detail but I assumed that rather a great deal of poetic licence went into the descriptions of Celtic harps being strung with silver & gold & bronze.  In the way of these things there are 3 or 4 old harps in existence @ various museums in the Gaeltacht & also rather invariably some harp fanatic made replicas ~ only ...problemo! These harps would not tune across the soundboard using the usual wire strings.  If you want all the lurid details you can read about it here. However, they do tune properly if you use gold, silver & bronze wire. [I want an Irish Harp. I can't play ~ naturally ~ but one could learn...]

Still with me? Because the other thing the old stories talk about rather a lot is a game called Fidchell ~ or chess ... or a variety of chess.  Now gaming boards are generally made of wood & wood deteriorates over the centuries so there aren't too many of them around. The National History museum of Dublin has one.  You can see it on 19/27.  And here has a modern replica.  I think I'm in love.  That is seriously cool! The original pieces would have been of gold & silver because fidchell was a king's game but I like these porcelain ones better.

Here gives instructions for how to play.  What I want to know is: How do they know?  Sure, there are hints in the old stories ~ a bit here, a bit there but a lot of what I've read sounds more like our modern chess than this extremely peculiar game.  Obviously I need to do more research because knowing peculiar things no~one needs to know about any more is what  do.

I can't say I really play chess.  I know how the pieces move.  I taught the kids but I'm too defensive a player to be much good & no strategist!   But I hanker for a really nifty set.  These ~ or replicas of the Lewis Chessmen with what looks like Irish knotwork though they are supposed to be Norse.  Something to sit & admire.  Something wonderfully tactile.  Something visitors will want to pick up & handle ~ like pretty shells or smooth pebbles. *sigh*  I could be waiting a while.  These things cost the earth!

Changing things up.

Change one thing ~ & a whole lot of dynamics alter to accommodate that one thing. Getting chooks has altered the pattern of my days.   

Luckily for them I am an early riser ~ earlier even in summer.  Just now our mornings are simply bitter but chooks, like most animals, are creatures of habit & finely tuned to their surroundings.  They know when I get up: the lights go on, the kettle whistles, the cats appear...by the time I get out the door to open the hutch they are jostling @ their window looking for me with chirps & clucks of excitement, anxious to get out & begin their day.

When we kept chooks last time our family of 7 easily generated enough table scraps to add spice & variety to our chooks diet.  Now we are just 2, things are different.  While I generally have a small bowl of pickings after preparing dinner my Aussies hog all the best scraps so last time I was in IGA [our supermarket] I grabbed the fruit & veg guy & asked about their scraps ~ because most places will let you have things like the outside leaves of lettuce, anything spoiled or rotten. You just have to ask & know how their system works.

No problemo.  There are usually 2 big bins each day out the back.  Help myself.  So we tried 2 afternoons in a row.  Zero.  Zilch.  Nado. I got someone scavenging the bins for his food rations who kindly pointed out the bins with the only just out of date stuff ... um, no thank you. So this morning I swung by IGA after I dropped the MOTH to his boat. BINGO!  A whole box of lettuce scraps! My girl are happy campers.

Just the same I have a rather odd set up just now.  In some ways I have 2 different flocks, with 2 alpha chooks.  When free ranging the  Aussies stick together & the Rocks hang together but each party has a lead girl.  When together, I have an alpha Aussie & a beta Rock ~ but both Aussies will tend to hog the best of the food.  I obviously have a pecking order still in flux as my younger birds mature.

I am still keeping a fairly tight reign on them.  This isn't the safest of environments & until they know it better I prefer they stick close to their coop ~ which they have actually been doing.  Easy enough as there is heaps of mulch to scratch & lots of spots for some dust bathing without the need to stray too far but of course now I have one eye on the clock for eggs.  Of course I could just do a collect when I let them out but I don't want to encourage pythons to hang around on the off chance of a tasty meal. Unfortunately they already know let out time is after I pick the MOTH up from his boat & start creating a din as soon as they hear the car pull in.  Won't be happening today.  I am off to the mainland for *stitches out/stitches in* & we won't get back till late. I could let them out for their run earlier ~ but I won't.  They are, understandably, not as co~operative about going back in their cage as they are about getting out & I can't afford to be chasing reluctant chooks round the yard.  The Aussies are pretty co~operative but the youngest Rock gets muddled & I have a loner who never seem to be where she should be so today is lock in day. As the weather warms up they will get more free ranging time but just now I am reluctant to be paddling about in the cold.

Something else.

It has been a while, & our Little Man has grown up so much, since I last babysat.  The Little Man has been visiting his grandma but last week we resumed our intermittent visiting & returned again to the big park which has been revamped over the past few months.

 Things like the net walk, climbing bars & big slide have been built for much bigger children.  I'd've been lucky to manage the net walk ~ no way with the Little Man in tow.  We did the slide ~ once. It is higher, steeper & faster than it was & understandably the Little Man was cautious.  Even so, he refused to sit in my lap to come down.  Equally, he didn't want another go.

 They have this Little House for the Littlies ~ but it is nowhere near as exciting & adventurous & after a cursory investigation the Little Man abandoned it for the peddle see~saw swing. *sigh*  I know why he likes it but as his feet can't reach the peddles & his arms can't reach the handrail I have to hold him on & run!

There was a family of wood ducks nearby.  I do love me some wood ducks & they always have lots & lots of little ducklings in tow @ this time of the year but I rather wished we hadn't gone to investigate as one little duckling had a damaged leg.  As I was carless & this is not my area there was nothing I could do.  I did manage to fob the poor thing off onto another unsuspecting admirer-er to drop @ the local vets on their way to the daughter's netball game, so all's well that ends well.

The Inbetweens.

 In a moment, a breath, winter passed.  The icy mornings turned balmy & the sun through the trees shed only gentle warmth.

I am a person of inbetweens.  It is the inbetween seasons I like, the half~light between dawn & day, dusk & night, the half seen, the half heard rustlings, the shadow play of light, the deep toll of peace where the spinning world rests.

We have been so fraught for so long juggling the needs of others with all the things that need doing till my peace was frayed.  I am best in oceans of deep quiet: the bird song, the wash of water, the wind whisper gently pottering between garden & animals, able to pause because this day there were wallabies  bouncing along our beach, zillions of birds skittering through the trees, the cats that come to greet me with tails raised high & the hens calling a greeting as I pass. 

There is a bible verse that talks about this: The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork. You miss it in the rush & bustle.  The cities drown it out.  Only here, inbetween the ocean & the land, in the unquiet stillness, you sense the first garden functioning as it was always meant to function with that deep sense of rightness, everything going about it's own business in peace & harmony.  Just now there is plenty for everyone .  No need to squabble.  No need to fight. You can feel the generous hand of God pressing down till the cup of His blessing overflows.

Some of this &...

The MOTH, who is an eminently practical man, informed me today that preaching for one hour was equal to an 8 hour work day.  I think he thought I would find this consoling.  I do not. I am so wiped it is not funny.

It has been one of those weeks though.  One day I may figure out why everything piles up @ once but so far I remain clueless while I struggle to balance dental visits with doctor's visits & trips to the back of for chooks.  Both doctor & dentist are ongoing.  The dr for skin cancers ~ which involves needles... & more needles... an activity I can in no way abide & which stresses me no end.  I prefer dealing with the cleaning & filling ~ though this too will end in needles as some teeth are beyond repair. *sigh*

My quiet hermetic life hates these disruptions to its peace but some things just have to be done & removing the cancers is one of them for I inherited, not a lovely preaches & cream complexion from my English ancestors but, a ruddy Scots one that does not tolerate our Aussie sun well.  The first 2 were right on the temple but cheeks, hands & arm all need to be checked so we are doing the cut & stitch for the next lot when I have the stitches for the last lot removed.  Such fun! Not.

I birthed 5 children sans pain relief  or epidurals ~ anything being more tolerable than a needle of any description ~ & it takes up such swags of time traipsing to & fro when I could be doing something terribly useful ~ like contemplating my navel.

One Egg, Two Eggs...

 I spent a good part of today sitting quietly watching my chickens ~ which seems an insane sort of a thing to do.  However I find chickens restful.  Their soft chucking & delighted cackles when they produce an egg are eminently serene, the essence of a world that is intrinsically right.

However, my Australorps are already laying while the Rocks are POL, so Kate warned me to keep an eye on the Aussies, who are bigger & heavier, because they might hog the food ~ which they did! *sigh* And I needed to be sure the bullying didn't get out of hand because, after all, all these hens are still babies.  They are still learning ~ so much so they didn't realise the hutch was for roosting in last night & knocked the perch down; it is now firmly glued in place! But all my ladies were upstairs waiting to be shut in tonight.  Some were even actually roosting!

However sitting idly, sipping coffee, & watching my chooks scrabble in the mulch meant I was there when Nugget marched up the planking in solitary splendour to scrabble & thump & rattle & roll in the nesting boxes to produce our very first egg!

We ended up with 2,  Namaste also doing the deed, considerably later in the day.  They are a good sized egg, & a pretty, pale buff pink.  Nugget looks like being top chook, which no doubt will please ODD.

A Little Chicken in My Day...

Today was the day.

I dropped the man @ his boat & joined the long queue of cars, trucks, mowers & cement mixers headed inter~island or all the way to the mainland.  It's an hour trip,  bearable if  you have sweeping views of the bay to gaze upon,  stifling if you get wedged between the loos & the bridge, as I was going over.

ODD had agreed to navigate  for me because one of the purchased chickens was to be hers & I get to look after it because, though ODD adores all animals, her lifestyle prohibits owning even a goldfish.

We had several choices of route but as it was peak hour we took the Gateway, then cut across north Brisbane, only slightly less hair~raising than being on my own as ODD talked non~stop, & completely forgot she needed to direct me!  Never~the~less she did indeed get me to our destination.

Now chooks are messy birds & their pens & coops can quickly get on the pongy side but one of the reasons we were travelling all the way out to Mt Samson was because it was highly recommended & Kate, @  Beautiful Chickens, was the only breeder to get back to me & was willing to chat. So worth the effort.  Everything was absolutely spotless & all her birds are in wonderful condition!  I was madly impressed.

We had lots of choices: Sussex,  Rhode Island Reds,  Rocks & Australorps... but in the end I stuck with the Rocks & Aussies.  The Sussex were magnificent birds, large, splendid, stupendous ~ but still growing!!! Actually, so are the Rocks but they won't get that big!

 And all my birds got squashed into just 2 cages despite my having 3 because Kate assured me they would be happier together.  As these aren't small birds I was more than a little dubious but they travelled ok with only the occasional churring from my black girls.  I also got  informed about feed so got a 20 kilo bag while I was @ it.  Why not.  I had the island car to save all that hefting on & off boats.

 The Australorps are gorgeous birds.  Their black is not only glossy but has a wonderful blue/green sheen so they seem to glow.  One of these is ODD's *Nugget*.  The other her choir Mistress wanted named *Namaste*.  These 2 luscious girls are already laying & I suspect *Nugget* will be Top Chook so my chances of eggs shortly is greatly increased.

The Rocks are @ point of lay.  They still have some growing up to do & were reluctant to leave their carrier when we finally arrived home; the Aussies are braver ~ but they all huddled in the western corner  of the coop until the Rocks decided standing in the water dish was the way to go.  So glad I weighted them down but naturally they are now full of mulch & I will need to clean them tomorrow ~ probably several times.

They gobbled down all the food: kitchen scraps; mash & laying pellets but were terribly confused about where to roost for the night.  I had to shove them bodily into the hutch & whether they found the roost or not remains to be seen but they are such calm, happy girls & were chucking away quite mateily  as they surveyed their new home with eager curiosity.

The cats, on the other hand, acted as if I'd brought two~headed grogons home & yowled miserably. *sigh*  This could get interesting.