Monday, March 14, 2011

Oh Quincy, I do love you...

It won't be long before this beautiful tree load of quinces ripens, then I can get to cooking them. They always smell magnificent as they roast slowly to a glossy, deep, deep red. A fragrant and fruity perfume that lingers long after they've been gobbled up with ice-cream for our sweets.
I love seasonality in food, climate and living. Each distinct bit of the year gets me all enthused. It stops my thinking about the relentless and unyielding march of time. It distracts me from all the things I need to get done. I don't see my children growing so fast. The changing seasons are all about the now, and the now really is the whole point, isn't it?
As I type, my sleep refusing son is in his undies playing happily in his sand pit on what is a sunny and pleasantly warm day. It's the tail end of Summer and I'm trying to lap it up now because it will be all beanies, gloves and scarves soon enough. Summer always sneaks away, while I'm not watching. I only really know it's gone when I look at my feet and realise I've had real shoes and socks on for so long I can't remember the last time I wore sandals.
All the seasons have their own appeal. Summer is great for all the endless, free time days. The days spent holidaying at the beach. Days sitting outside until all hours having barely noticing the sun disappearing over the horizon. Days where you just can't cool down, but somehow it doesn't matter, especially when you're munching on a Bubbalo Bill. Days that last all night because try as you might, it really is impossible to sleep.
It's a bit sad to see Summer go, but come Autumn, I'm always ready to leave it behind. I start to feel like I've had too much leisure time. Too much over cooked meat from the barbecue washed down with too many 'gee darl, it's beer drinking weather today' bevvies and lots of time spent away day tripping and neglecting our home sweet home.
 I think this is why it's a traditional painting and preserving time. House man spent yesterday tending to some very necessary painting on our front window. Meanwhile, I've been channelling my inner squirrel, making jam and stewing fruit for the freezer in anticipation of a long, cold Winter. The food I want to cook and eat lately is also changing. The crock pot has had a workout with a few stews and is waiting in anticipation for the chunk of corned beef I've got in the fridge. I am craving lots of vegies and baking has taken a back seat. It's a bit like I'm getting ready to hibernate, filling up on healthy and hearty food.
Soon enough, I'll be happily locked indoors, warm and snuggled up with my knitting and a hot chocolate. As much as I don't like the cold, like all the seasons, Winter has it's appeal. I envisage days cooking and crafting with the kids. Sunday drives through the bleak landscape and brisk walks rugged up to my chinny, chin chin. Then the daffodils start to pop up and before long I'm dreaming of sunny Spring days and counting down to Christmas, and around we go again.

My environment is very influential to my functioning. The seasons shape the way I operate, as do my immediate surroundings. That's why I maintain an ever evolving array of interesting bits and bobs (see pic) to inspire me. I can't wait to renovate later this year...ooooh, the fun I'll have creating my new workspace!
I had a lovely first Daylesford Makers Market for 2011 on Saturday and chatted with some good people. It's great for buntyandsars to be a part of this creative community. The sharing of ideas and exposure to the way other creative minds work is inspiring and has become very important to me.
Look out for some new ideas popping up on my blog. Maybe a competition or two? And definitely some more links to good things. Today's not the day for research as I swat a sandy, three year old hand away from the keyboard. Again. But when I sit down with a bit of extra time I want to do some serious trawling through the net with my hands full of business cards belonging to all those talented market folk, then I'll send you all their way for a look.
I now have a serious case of the Mother guilts as my son plays forlornly on his own, wondering aloud when his Father will arrive home. Time to stop typing and start posting.

No comments:

Post a Comment