... it's hot. It's five years since I left Brisbane and I've lost my tolerance for the heat; anything over 24 degrees is cause for grumbling. No time in the garden; it's all I can do take the compost out and collect the eggs.
Still, this morning Lu and I managed to get out for some convict brambles and multiple rabbit sightings before the temperature crept up.
And, as a reward for her patience with her prostrate and self-pitying parents ("I think I've got heat rash"; "This could be heatstroke"), we made Lu some ice blocks. The tupperware version - were a big part of my own childhood, filled and frozen with lime cordial. As a hippy-lite mother I make them from fruit juice, to quiet the little fun-suck voice inside my head griping "if it's sugar, it's bad".
In this weather we get to eat in the courtyard, which isn't commonplace in dear old Tas. And eating out of the garden in the garden is about as good as it gets for me.
Eating from the garden: eggs, scrambled, and chives for breakfast; corn for lunch; sage, rosemary, basil, chives and marjoram in the hamburger patties, with tomatoes and lettuce for dinner; blackberries in a clafoutis for dessert; strawberries, blood plums and those sexy, sexy beans for snacks.