The stash

I did very well for beautifully wrapped birthday gifts and cleared a shelf to display them and work myself into a frenzy.  After going to the gym and eating a soul nourishing lunch of coffee, a pear and Lindt chocolate, I began the unwrapping.

Silk from Myanmar.  Gorgeous things from Curly Tree which is housed in our former River Bank in Wentworth.  And a splendid mystery box which was so heavy I thought it may contain a ball for bowls, which would be entirely appropriate to my age.  But no.

A magnificent teapot.  Which could substitute for a Kettle Ball at the gym.  But in fact is to replace my quaint but handleless current teapot.
Plus, by coincidence, a complementary Margaret Preston print card

which I can't recall ever seeing before.  The day started with light rain and birdsong.  Later it developed into a full on gale which suited my purposes perfectly.  Wood fire, banana muffins, sausage roll and a glass of red.

Time and season

I have been a little quiet because my sister-in-law Liz died last week.  Her funeral was yesterday.  It was held in a lovely little stone church in Swansea.  It is rare these days to attend a church funeral.  This church was perfect, built from local stone and filled with local people and locally grown flowers, though white lilies perfumed the air.  I was asked to read Ecclesiastes 3:1-8. and found it difficult to read without The Byrd's 'turn, turn' version going through my head.  I've researched Ecclesiastes a bit today and continue to be mystified.
Less mystifying, the weather has been cold and wet and the horse is sporting his coat.

And while it's a long way from 'blodeuog', my plan for a flower strewn garden is showing promise.

Weekend No Escape

Thursday last I went with the Walking Group to Fonthill near Oatlands.  This is the Log Cabin which is available as guest accommodation.

Then we walked to the main house

 which has some delightful architectural details

inside and out.

Gratuitous chandelier photo for Mum.

Then big adventure on Friday.  I drove to The Green Bean's chateau on the Huon River.  Ms Bean had  entered a local art exhibition and we were to attend the opening in the evening.  We pleasantly whiled away the afternoon rock hopping and gazing in rock pools.  When we returned a la maison, Monsieur Bean was hopping with excitement:  Madame's entry had won a prize.  Madame became noticeably less relaxed.

She received her prize with aplomb.

Madame is a Botanical Artist.
And here is The Artist's Studio

where it all happens.  Next morning she was back to her usual self, feeding the kookaburras.