Cre-ate-if ...part two

So the last three months of my challenge have been and gone and it's been a mixed bag to say the least.Nothing edible this time but some distinctly 'ify' moments.

September saw me undertake a secret project, or three in fact. Collating photo's for three books as Christmas presents. With a mac it is ultra easy and looks so professional but deciding what photo's to use and spending time taking shots to fill in the gaps has been great fun.

They were all brilliantly well received, if sobbing and a refusal to read the introduction in public are good signs!!

I started a Singing for Pleasure course at Bakewell Adult Education college in October, and instantly regretted not having enrolled earlier (it only took me a year!!). The course was led by folk singer, Lester Simpson and was brilliant fun. Very laid back, an ecclectic mix of music and a brilliant sense of achievement even though most weeks I found myself singing bass owing to the usual lack of men. One did start with his wife but by week three was never seen again! (Well by us at least, am hoping his wife still knew his whereabouts).

Having been given a sewing machine for my birthday in March, I finally found a window to try and see how it worked. The machine is awesome, made for idiots which is just as well as i appear to be such a one. I painstakingly drew a template of a doll's dress onto annoyingly curly greaseproof paper, put it onto an off cut of denim and cut it out full of enthusiasm for my new project.
The photo is here because this was the best part! I hemmed each section - one 6 times determined to get it perfect. Starting off turning the wheel by hand before building up enough guts to try the foot operated pedal. It was all going so well until I realised I'd cut the shoulder straps too short and underestimated my side seam allowance. Hey ho, it looked brilliant in parts but was no good for Lotta the ragdoll.

It was also a good exercise in how not to have a psychological melt down. Ghosts from my childhood rose up whispering "lack of abilility"and "missing out on the artistic gene"and a certain maternal spectre of "you don't want to do it like that" put it's oar in...until I realised that even my brilliant mother wasn't born perfect and had maybe even shed, just one, tear of frustration over a hot sewing machine in the early days of her efforts. Demon's battled, I packed away Lotta's dress and will when the time is right, unpick it (AGAIN) and recut the pattern and by golly when that new dress is finished woe betide any little girl who tries to remove it from that doll.

I thought I'd be out of luck, ideas and time for December as plans for salt dough ornaments, fig and date relish and home made cards came and went (well I did manage two but today I have made my thank you cards - little toddler finger prints for rudolph's nose - and a new baby one,for a boxing day addition to our world.










So I come in just before the bell and need to get thinking about what January's challenge may be...

From one home to another...

The Dowager Duchess of Devonshire, or Debo as her friends call her, has a saying about those who take up posts at Chatsworth. They stay "a fortnight or forever".

Her insight that makes my skin prickle as we, having fallen into the former camp, are now preparing to leave.

England's foremost stately home is amazing not least because of it's size and splendour but also because of it's democratic friendliness. It throws wide it's arms and welcomes all young and old, human, canine, equestrian and seems genuinely thrilled that so many do indeed enter it's gates.

Today we went for a final walk in the gardens, they are incredible. Kept by a comparatively small team there is something astounding at almost every turn whether an interesting planting combination - pampas grass, monkey puzzle trees and variagated holly in one stunning area - or an outlandish sculpture.

The Duke and Duchess have been wonderful employers too. They are thoroughly interested in the commercial side of the estate and it's employees and their generous enthusiasm has made it a lovely place to be associated with.

I will relinquish my estate pass with great sadness and look forward to visits in the future, queuing up to get in with so many eager to experience this great place.

Foodie findings...

It's funny how sometimes you find a scrumptious surprise in an unexpected place and the next minute it's all over the place. Salt caramel is one such thing. I stumbled across salt fudge a while ago and cannot get enough of it whether in cookies or ice cream or just as is. Now it seems to be widely infiltrating the high street with possibly the best use in M&S's wicked pecan and salt caramel tart with belgium chocolate. The latter seems to be rather over-egging the pudding but I suspect I'll survive, IF I ever get to try it that is. My two local stores haven't had any, despite it being the grand finale of their recent tv ad campaign. Tish tish!

Whitley Neill is my top gin tip, if you like yours citrus-sweet and very smooth, yummy!I can't believe how many different characteristics you can find in this one spirit and there are some delicious ones on the market but this is definitely my fav.

Cre-ate-if...

Feeling like I'm just getting my head back round this thing called life, I've noted the important part my garden has played in my therapy. Not just the fresh air and switching off or even the achievement but just the excitement of trying something new.

For this reason I decided to aim for 12 new things in the next 12 months and we'll see how we go...

I'm counting number one starting in June with Eldeflower Cordial, I've always wanted to try making it and this year with a tree just a few strides from the house and an encouraging neighbour I had a go. It was incredible. I used Sarah Raven's fruity recipe which was brilliantly simple and lasted really well

The veggie patch is number two. I had a largely unloved and really quite unproductive allotment in London but my timber raised beds are a whole new ball game. I've grown new things in a completely new way and was not prepared for the results, we didn't buy fresh veg or salad all summer as we had more than we new what to do with and I suspect winter would have been pretty good two had we not had to quit whilst we were ahead.

In August, overwhelmed by the mass of courgettes my two plants were knocking out I made "Gluttney", Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall's humorous pickle. I've never attempted jam or the like and have been delighted by this sweet-savoury relish so much that I've even given my first home made presents!

I wonder what joys the following months will hold?!

degrees of seperation between rhymes...or some silliness

When wondering what Lent has meant
I thought it's maybe like rent
paying for what was spent on my salvation.
It's a space where my pent up soul can expand,
holy ground just passing,like a moment on a mountain not demanding a tent.
It's enough maybe to dent our quotidian walls,
a window for light and for love.
Like a memory sent of colour and glass
and a sacred moment in a church down in Kent.

Longing for spring

Outside all is snow and fog
a world obscured.
These winter days have white-washed my heart too
It should be dancing
But it lost it's shoes

Nibbling...

I don't know who said the cold burns extra calories but that's not what my jeans tell me!

The need for carbs though is stronger for ever as comfort eating becomes the only way to survive as I look out on endless whiteness; snow, freezing fog, ice - not much to inspire the eyes so the tongue has to be tantalised instead!!

So this morning I made Cheese Pastry Sticks from Cooking for Coco by Sian Blunos.

100g cream cheese
100g butter
100g plain flour

She says mix the ingredients together until it resembles course bread crumbs then bring them together into a ball and chill over night or for a few hours at least.

Although 100g of flour should have been enough to cope with the cheese and butter, mine was very wet and bread crumb effect was far off. I put a load of extra flour in (after scrounging some from the neighbour) and it became a slightly sticky, quite solid ball.

Unperturbed I put it in the fridge overnight and rolled it out successfully, cutting it into little stars before egg-washing it and baking on 230C for 10 mins.

They are lovely, though could do with seasoning. Sian also suggests poppy, carraway (yuk) or seasame seeds which would be delicious but not so good for blossom at this stage. However I think some grain mustard or maybe even flavoured cream cheese might work too.

First time I've done some baking for ages, and it worked, brilliant!

Poetry please...

"Poetry is the music of being human"

So says Poet Laureate, Carol Ann Duffy in last Sunday's Songs Of Praise. I just love that description, it ties in to my ongoing fascination with the ordinary being a dwelling place of something 'other'.

For words are indeed musical and also magical and it's the enchanting that is often beautifully brought alive in poems.

Carol Ann's poem Prayer (echoing that by George Herbert) does just that for me, it's the perfect explanation of God being in the very fabric of our existance, again it's the mystical in the everyday...

Prayer (1993)

Some days, although we cannot pray, a prayer
utters itself. So, a woman will lift
her head from the sieve of her hands and stare
at the minims sung by a tree, a sudden gift.

Some nights, although we are faithless, the truth
enters our hearts, that small familiar pain;
then a man will stand stock-still, hearing his youth
in the distant Latin chanting of a train.

Pray for us now. Grade I piano scales
console the lodger looking out across
a Midlands town. Then dusk, and someone calls
a child's name as though they named their loss.

Darkness outside. Inside, the radio's prayer -
Rockall. Malin. Dogger. Finisterre.

I wonder what are the unformed prayers of our days, what sounds make up the music of our humanness?

Maybe that's something to attend to for another post...

Something 'extra'...

11 months ago I did something extraordinary, I gave birth to a baby girl. What followed has undoubtedly been an incredible adventure, filled with almost-daily miracles but at the same time the ordinary is larger than ever and how to deal with it is a big question for this year, and my sanity.

The routine of motherhood, of living in windows of free time is challenging. Like writing this blog post, I can only do it now because Blossom has finally on the third attempt gone to sleep. How do I make those windows count, without exhausting myself and with still achieving all the hum drum must-do's like cleaning, washing etc. How do I handle the guilt I put on myself if I spend my small parcel of free time reading a magazine or online as it doesn't seem a substantial achievement for my day?

Thinking about this as the snow pours out of the sky is also interesting, here is extraordinary weather which results in us being stuck inside the house, stuck with the ordinary.

I wonder if this collocation always follows? Perhaps that's a clue to the answer to this question.

Perhaps the extraordinary is closer to the ordinary than we think?