A possible challenge...?

So I've set myself a wee challenge or two this year. One is to make as much of our own bread as possible and the other is to "try" and produce a garment a month. So, not a big stick to beat myself with, but a carrot to encourage me to have a go and there's no harm done if it doesn't always happen. 

The garment a month is on course - mainly because I'd so much hanging around time in hospital with a poorly mum. January started off with a simple knitted jumper for my brother's 50th birthday present. Mum then fell for multi-green sock wool of all things... and requested a crocheted waistcoat - February's garment.

 I'm pleased with both garments - especially as they've been appreciated during the endless cold weeks of February and March. Also pleased at how productive I feel! On the needles now, a baby cardigan and a hooky blanket to use up the stash.... And at the machine, a black linen jacket (unlined, though I'll probably regret that). I've had to stand back from work until Easter for sure and have taken on the role of full time carer for now, so am making the most of my spare time.

Bread wise, I've made white yeast, brown yeast, potato farls, soda bread and wheaten. Tonight, having nursed a sourdough starter for weeks now - it looked like a bit of a faff and what with various bouts of illness and an elder fall, I just kept feeding  it and bunged it in the fridge until I'd more time.

Had I known how easy it was, it would have been made ages ago. It's tangy and delicious. I'll play with the recipe a little - probably won't add any whole wheat next time just to see how that works out. Anyone any suggestions for flour combos to use?

Spring pops and a little escapism

Cold, bright, cheerful spring days with the sqawk of seagulls, bleating from lambs and a multitude of metal wires clanging against masts around the harbour.  A happy soundtrack.

In the shelter of the walled garden at Bangor Castle, we walk, our spirits lifted by the intensity of colour.  We'd retreated there, far from a crowded gathering at Church - my lovely mum was overwhelmed by the noise and bustle of the full pews of friendly and familiar faces and the quiet of the garden with its gentle waterfall was needed.

I guess this is all part of journey onwards from intense grief.  She's 80, and had known dad since she was 13 or 14 - a long time loving one person.  I'm learning there's no single script for those who live on - we're all finding our own way.  Spring bulbs and lambs help though.  They're hopeful; just when everything is dark and gloomy and seems dead, new life, new growth emerges to startle and encourage us to keep going.  

Back home, I lit a wood fire in the chiminea and sat with a hot drink, warm jumper and my much thumbed copy of John Seymour's book on self sufficiency and day dreamed - my way of escaping.  I was hoping for wisdom on what to plant in the raised bed that will be built over the next few weeks - but lost myself in the mysteries of managing a small holding - which I don't possess, probably will never, but can still dream about....

A welcome to the new year.

The first week of January is now over and I'm breathing again and happy - relieved - to see a few brave daffodils bloom in the border by the front door.  The (ridiculously early) wild garlic flowering in one of the hedges nearby also fools me into thinking spring is close, so now, my shoulders are relaxing.

This has been a strange, stressful season and I'm all over the show.  New diaries have been sprung into action with no pleasure at all - no frisson of the possibilities of fresh pages in a lovely new journal.  Needs must and I've been in organisational overdrive in an effort to keep things on track.  

A pile of unopened Christmas presents still waits on the floor where the tree was until yesterday.  Barely touched Christmas cake waits and the fridge is full of unexpected food gifts - hearty soups and delicious pies - delivered by church friends showing love in the most practical of ways.

Christmas Eve started well, but by lunchtime, we'd a paramedic first responder hooking dad up to an ECG machine, confirming a heart attack and in minutes, we were in an ambulance en route to the hospital.  The days since have been spent juggling home stuff, a slightly bewildered and very anxious mum who lives with me, twice daily hospital calls, visits to an in-law, seriously ill in a different hospital and work - where half the team left unexpectedly at the end of the year.  I think the word for my life at the moment is 'intense'.

But, having had several weeks of 'up close and personal' access to Britain's National Health Service, I'm reminded again of how downright amazing it is when it works.  I'm grateful and humbled by the sheer dedication and kindness of the paramedics, nurses, doctors, porters, cooks, cleaners and others who make this lumbering, clunky, vastly under-resourced machine so magnificent in an emergency.  

So now we're about to enter the world of daily carers, and all the accompanying accoutrements - an air bed, walking aid, commode chair... and soon, MacMillan nurses - dad's cancer was already progressing rapidly. 

But next week, his pile of Christmas gifts will be opened - though the best gift will be him, back home with us.  Then, with time to gather ourselves and talk, we'll plot a way along the road to a new kind of 'normality'.

hooky time again

When the warm sunny days get washed away... it's hooky time!  My new favourite wooly nook - The Textile Studio in Belfast - had the Drops Paris cotton on sale so I bought a bag load - still won't be enough to complete the throw but let's see how it goes!  I fell in love with Julie's rug on this site, but probably shouldn't be doing it in cotton - it's a bit of an experiment but a good chance to play around a bit with colours and patterns.  Open to ideas!

Sunday lunch and no one wanted to cook - it's so humid - so we arranged to meet up at Crawfordsburn Country Park after church - mum, dad and my brother and his family.  We arrived full of good intentions to walk by the beach or through the woods after lunch but it was chucking it down like a monsoon, complete with thunder and lightening.  Junior was the only one to brave it!  The boring adults hogged a table with lots of tea and coffee refills and banter...  Not the worst way to spend a wet afternoon.

not a crochet hook in sight....

We've had wonderful, mellow dawns and dusks to bookend our days over the last week.  On Friday evening, Grace, mum and I headed to the harbour to watch the sun set - and to knit (mum), crochet (me) and swim - a very brave 13 year old!!!

I love the colours in the sky and the last rays of light on mum's face.

Time for a little refurbishment too - one of mum and dad's wedding presents from 1958.  I'm not sure it's Lloyd Loom but it's very similar - an ottoman or blanket box with a wicker base and a lid that has been much sat and stood on.  

One of mum's favourite story is of buying me a nurse's uniform to dress up with when I was about three years old.  She was busy in the kitchen and wondered why things had gone quiet - I was no where to be seen.  Upstairs, she found the ottoman lid open and a wee nurse fast asleep inside on the pile of quilts and blankets.  

Time for a refurb then!  It was interesting to remove the layers of fabrics from previous recoverings right down to the original dark red and gold material.  

A new lid was needed and dad got to work on that while I sprayed the wicker.  

As the paintwork dried, I recovered the newly made lid with a lovely cranberry and grape striped fabric from Laura Ashley.  

I think it looks much fresher now.... except it shows up the matching chair... and the curtains... and the room maybe needs a coat of paint now too - you know how it goes!!  Just the kind of project I love and I'm looking forward to the next bit.  It did however, satisfy the crafty thing for a day or so and I haven't touched the crochet all day - imagine! A whole 24 hours and I haven't played hooky.

Oh man, what a week.

It's been 'one of those weeks'.

Monday tea time and a phone call summoned this worried aunt to the children's hospital.  The li'l guy (my 7 year old nephew) took a tumble on the trampoline - or to be totally accurate, some of his friends took a tumble and landed in a heap - he just happened to be at the bottom of the pile.

In theatre, he had an op to pin his arm just above the elbow and is out of action now for a wee while but being very brave.

Over the week, I've been reminded of the power of ice cream to deliver smiles.  I've also learnt that despite an abundance of technology, boys banned from football (temporarily) and tree climbing (similarly) can be diverted with a mad game of ludo.  Who knew!

On Tuesday night, I accompanied my father to a concert - his birthday gift.  The Seekers (anyone old enough to remember?) were on a 50th anniversary tour and since their music is part of the soundtrack of my childhood I was looking forward to it just as much as he was.  The concert was superb - much, much better than I'd hoped for.  Remember The Carnival is Over?    Or Georgy Girl?  Or Morningtown Ride?  We're still smiling and humming - and lovely to have 'dad time'.

Friday night and it was dad's turn to be up front.  He's having chemo treatment at the moment and energy levels are low, BUT he still managed to sing with his choir at their annual concert.  So very proud of him!

On Saturday afternoon, it was 'mum time' - her treat to take us to the Belfast Opera House to see Cinderella - the Rogers and Hamerstein musical.  It was performed by an excellent amateur group - Belfast Operatic Company - joined for each performance by two white rats and the tiniest wee white pony.  A very polished performance all round, completed with a lovely meal in a local restaurant.  Mum is on the right of the picture with her cousin in the stripy top beside her.

I'm so thankful for much this week - for having parents still around who love to enjoy life to the full; for the skills of the medical team at the Royal Victoria Children's Hospital and for an NHS that hasn't been completely stripped of resources and can still excel at doing what it does best when it gets the chance.  

As I sat with my nephew waiting for him to go to theatre, I couldn't help but reflect on the difference between his treatment and the children at our project in Uganda:  

He had a vehicle to get him to the nearest A&E, an ambulance to transfer him to the children's hospital, a surgical team to do the needful and pain medication throughout.  

In our unit, children reach us months after an accident, after village bone setters have done their best - often making bad situations worse.  The journey is long, painful and often the injury beyond resetting and long drawn out intervention is required to save the limb.

We have so much to be thankful for, and such a responsibility to share our blessings.

All is not lost....

We have leaves.  It shouldn't be a surprise but it is.  A few months ago, my very enthusiastic dad bought a new shear-like clipper tool and got carried away with my beloved apple tree.  I was devastated.  I tried my best to swallow the lump in my throat and blink away the tears of disappointment.  He thinks the tree is getting too big for the tiny garden.  He may be right, but to my mind, it was the wrong time of year and the wrong way to do it.  I tried to joke about him turning the tree into a climbing frame for my 7 year old nephew but it hurt.

With the help of a double pollinator (a graft with two varieties) in a pot nearby, 'my' Bramley seedling produces the finest cooking apples in the world.  The windfalls don't go to waste - my father turns them into the most beautiful apple jelly.  So although it's 'my' tree - it's his too.

My mother loves to harvest the fully grown apples and produces crumbles, apple tarts and bags of stewed apples that are frozen and just when you think you'll die for the want of a sweet autumnal pudding long after the leaves and fruit have gone, she'll set one on the table.  So I guess that makes it her tree too.

We have one child in the family - my brother's son.  He has inherited his grandmother's tree-climbing gene and his aunt's love of baking too. In years to come, his memories may well include harvesting apples at granny and granda's.  In his mind's eye, he'll almost certainly hold a view of our garden from the top of the brambly branches.  It's his tree too then.

Today, I've noticed the bare branches have little green leaves in unlikely places, long, long after they should have been there.  Small, new reminders that no matter how bad things seem, there's is hope.  I needed to see these leaves.  I needed the sign, not because I long for apple tart and windfall jelly but because my dad is sick.  Every few weeks, I sit beside him in the hospital as a toxic cocktail drips into his vein.

He's a quiet man, the uncomplaining type, a teacher to his very core and a woodworker.  He's spent his life pointing young people in the right direction, in school, in Boys' Brigade, in Bible Class, in a Government run project for young offenders.  And now, unbeknown to him, when he over-enthusiastically clipped away at 'our' tree, he was setting a lesson in place for me.  It's a resurrection thing and I'm glad for the lesson that no matter how broken and hopeless things seem, there is always hope.  Maybe this year, we get by and cling to that hope.  Next year there'll be fruit... and all will be well with the world again.

Until then... I need to remember what it was like last year.

happy memories

Today, I've spent a lot  of time saving old slides onto the computer.  It's one of those jobs I put off as long as possible but when I do start into it, I love the memories the images bring.  

The memories are great - work trips in this current box - and on some visits, members of my family flew out for a holiday when I'd finished working.  They weren't all pleasant trips; South Sudan, Uganda in the mid 80s and Kosovo come to mind.  One sobering thought is how many horrible things I've witnessed around the world.  I've presented the images and told the stories, but years on, I'm feeling challenged to reflect on what I've seen and make more sense of it.

Another - slightly more trivial thing leaps out in every slide I'm in too - I'm much lighter in the pics than now and remember having so much more energy.  Ok, we're talking quite a few years ago.... but it's a good boot in the backside to take things in hand a little!

So... a few of my favourite shots; The Taj Mahal, Kenya, Nepal, Nepal again - my favourite day ever when we flew over a real life relief map, Owen Falls in Uganda - the source of the Nile - and a little boy called Moses, after an interview with a Korean man who had a "cure" for HIV, and filming in the Himalayas.  Sighs with pleasure.

treats all round...

Treats for a birthday - mine today!   The village has a long history - the harbour wall allegedly dates back to the vikings, the Duke of Schomberg landed 10 thousand troops here in 1689, Titanic sailed past in 1912... and it's one of my favourite places as the day draws to an end.  Not many little yachts in the water by late November.... and not too many visitors to the historic cottages on the left.  The children's paddling pool is empty and the visitors over the winter months are mainly dog walkers.

To Belfast next, and the ornate interior of a very nice restaurant.  With a gift still in my grasp since last November, I treated my parents to a visit to The Merchant.  It's an old bank, and a favourite haunt for people in search of a deliciously posh afternoon tea... we like to break the mould, so had lunch instead and oh, it was so good.

Not the place for a discreet outing though - we knew the family at the table right behind us and the couple at the table beside - great to catch up with old friends.  Belfast's like that - a small world where it's a rare day when you don't meet someone you know.

Birthdays demand a little pushing out of boats I think.  Tea at home with the family and a friend.... the perfect end to the start of another year.

Blustery weather, an anniversary, cakes and God's larder....

Yeay!  Fresher weather at last wtih choppy-ish waters at the historic little harbour of

Groomport on the County Down coast, but sunny still.  Cooler nights mean better sleep.

The harvest of Bramley apples has been abundant this year - the weather has suited.  We've had good windfalls to make pots and pots of apple jelly for the winter and the first crop of full fruit has yielded half a laundry basket so far.

 

"God's larder" is a small country lane within a mile of home;  in season we have elderflowers for cordial, then wild garlic for the best, greenest pesto, and now we have blackberries and rosehips.  Again, the weather of a long, cold winter followed by a wet spring and hot summer has filled the brambles and we've already potted blackberry jelly galore and had our favourite pudding of all - blackberry apple crumble.  The freshest of apples from our garden (harvested by my father and nephew) dotted with "perfectly placed pockets of purple plumptiousness" (blackberries to us mere mortals!) with an oaty, sweet crumble and softly whipped cream.  Divine and clearly enjoyed by small nephew - bowl licking good.

The wedding cake season is over and all went well.  A couple of new types of decoration were required - elegant ivory piping for one bride and an alternately tiered fondant lace and fondant silk for another. Beautiful brides and delicious cake.

And a celebration of our own as my parents celebrated fifty-five years of marriage with a little tea party for family and a few friends. 

We're thankful for family, friends, the late summer sunshine and food from God's larder.  What are you thankful for today?

What on earth is going on?

I'm sure there's a name for it, but what?

Last Thursday, we travelled to the village of Drumbo to meet my mother's third cousin - not really a long lost one as she didn't know he existed for most of her life.  In the journey to track down his own family roots, he stumbled across another cousin who'd been working with us in digging down into our own roots.

A summer-school in Brno in the Czeck Republic beckoned and so Ray thought he'd swing by Northern Ireland on the return leg of the journey home to New Zealand.

And last Thursday, we travelled to the village of Drumbo.... etc.

Ray Craven was born in 1936 - the same year as my mum, and they share a relation four generations back.  Along with other cousins, they had a good poke about the family photos and scrutinised for family likenesses (who had the same earlobes as who etc) and mum was delighted to learn that he was a layreader in his Anglican church (she'd been in the diaconate of her denomination and another cousin was a minister... so clearly God does genes too ha!)

Here's mum, Ray and cousin Eileen.

It was a good night, and "nice", we all agreed, to have our horizons broadened a little more.

Jump from Thursday to Sunday with me.

We head off to church and are settling in doing that rubber-neckin thing of who's here and who's away... and lo and behold, two rows back, I spot a couple of familiar faces.  Eyebrows leaping there too when they spot me.  Charlie and Flo were working in Seychelles with FEBA radio when I went out to do a six month stint in 1992.  I've seen them a couple of times since then, once in Nairobi (2002 I think) and once shortly after in Ireland.

They just decided to come to the coast for the day and rocked up to HRPC not knowing they'd find me there.  (Not that it would have put them off I guess.... at least I hope...)

It was one of the best services ever.  A Chinese lady who'd moved to Northern Ireland had started attending "English Corner" and in time, had chosen to follow the Lord Jesus and was being baptised.  Her faith is stronger than her English capacity so it was necessary and absolutely brilliant to have the vows and blessings translated for her during the service! 

"Nice", we thought to have our parochial little ways stretched and our horizons broadened.....

Meanwhile back at the ranch, Charlie and Flo arrived after a picnic and walk on the beach and we were thrilled to catch up with much tea and lots of laughter.  When they'd gone, we marvelled at how "nice" it was to have our horizons broadened a little more.....  (see a theme emerge?!)

Here they are with yours truely, ma and pa.

That was yesterday.  Today, a friend called to relate "devastating news".  I know Bobby Ringland well enough not to take that tone seriously.  "After knowing you all your life, I've just found out we might be related."  He's one of the nicest souls I know, so I can cope with that....

His cousin was visiting from Australia - originally from Belfast and it turned out her husband was my father's cousin. 

So the teapot was warmed again and in no time, the doorbell went and my father, aunt and mother welcomed Tom and Flo and they went through the who's-dead/alive/married/divorced routine, then the "d'you remembers" started... and then we talked about life in Oz versus life in NI and ..... yea... you're with me... all agreed that it was really "nice" to have our horizons broadened.

So what's going on?  All of a sudden, everything feels very international and intentional.... first mum's cousin, then my missionary friends, the bi-lingual baptism and then dad's cousin..... 

Answers anyone?  Oh and here they are... Tom, ma, pa, Flo and Betty.

Sunday at the Walled Garden in Bangor



There's a lovely old walled garden near us and for the last few years, the council's gardeners have been working away, restoring it to it's former glory.  I love it so much.  This summer, it's full of flowers, herbs, vegetables and fruit all thriving on the wet and warm weather we've had. 

 At the moment, there's a sculpture exhibition on too - didn't have time to take many pics on Sunday as the rain came on and, well, we all know people melt in the rain so we didn't stay long.  Although it's not "scuplture", the girl "manning" the exhibition was putting in time when it was being gathered, and yarn-bombed a leaf in the wrought iron gate.  I love it.  

The l'il guy was fascinated by the tiny "garden" planted by the gate - especially the wee diddy ladder for the borrower-sized gardeners to use! 

And these three boyos below looked fed up with the rain!

The flowers are amazing - can anyone explain why same coloured flowers bloom at the same time?  Lots of purples and pinks around at the moment....

 And then my blooming lovely family - well, minus dad who, servant heart that he has, decided to stay at home and attend to the ministry of clearing the dishes after lunch.  (That and a snooze while Wimbledon was on......)  So there were just the five of us rain dodging.

Hope you'd a lovely Sunday afternoon wherever you are!