Whirlwind Weeks

As I write this, there's pea & ham soup bubbling away on the stove. Muffins, fresh from the oven, are cooling on the kitchen bench. There's two loads of washing on the line and the swish and swash of the washing machine is still keeping time in the background. There's half-unpacked grocery bags scattered on the floor near the kitchen bench. (I'll get to them later!) A broom is propping up a wall close by too. I have been playing catch-up while working non-stop since getting back from our recent holiday and today it is so lovely to slow down to the cadence of our home once again.

Freshly baked Zucchini Slice Muffins.

Homemade biscuits fill up the jar again.

A scrumptious Silverbeet Impossible Pie for dinner.

The contentment I feel today, in resetting myself to the quiet rhythms of our home, reminded me of some lines from one of Kylie Johnson's beautiful poems:

"we holiday in the spaces

of our home -

in soup and conversations

in washing up bubbles

and zucchini ..."

A letterpress print of this poem, from Kylie's anthology, Count Me the Stars, sits atop an old dresser just inside our front door. I see it every time I come home. Words that remind me that our home offers up a retreat, a protected haven away from the wider world where there is meaning in very ordinary things like soup and soap bubbles and homemade biscuits in jars.

While many people thrive on full-time work outside of their homes, and there are many others who have no choice and have to work just to cover the cost of living,  I know that is not me anymore. While I love the relief work I do, and the extra $ come in very handy,  I can feel depleted and disorganised by it when work days stretch to weeks or months. What turns my compass needle to north again is home and I am grateful to know that and to have that choice at this time in my life. So, even though today's to-do list is long and I probably won't finish half of it, I am going to relish being home today. I have missed it.

Are you spending time at home today too?

Meg

Sunflowers in the Morning

We were greeted the other morning by the first yellower-than-yellow bloom in a row of towering sunflowers. 

The full, happy bloom of our first sunflower .

My boy and I had "tucked" the seeds into our soil as the days started to warm and then watched the new plants emerge and grow, their stalks gradually inching their way skywards. Each day, my son measured himself against these sunflower rulers until he was no longer taller. He watched as their heavy buds formed and waited with great anticipation for the day when a bloom was fully open.  There was much excitement when that first open bloom greeted him and further joy every morning hence until every tall sunflower soldier in our row was blooming. 

Sunflowers turning their faces towards the horizon, tracking the sun.

Now, we watch our sunflowers and marvel at how each one turns its wide, open face to follow the sun. As they are growing so close to our back ramp, we have been able to reach over and touch their petals, peer closely at the perfect arrangement of the seeds in their centres and watch as tiny little native bees buzz happily collecting sunflower pollen. 

Gazing at sunflowers simply makes me happy. They are such bold and optimistic blooms that surely no-one could frown in their presence.