Twelve years growing a marriage and most of those spent learning how to farm regeneratively and raise little men, rising at dawn and retiring long after the sun has set.  Not a day passes without a hearty conversation between us, and that's the privilege of living with your best friend; of sharing the best and worst of your selves and still feeling safe enough, loved enough to keep at it. We have gathered twelve years in our hands; seasons of comfort and difficulty, of joy and anticipation, of drought and abundance, of adventure and mundane life, gritty and awful, faithful, golden loveliness. We have worked hard to understand each other better, to listen, to hold carefully a thing that sometimes feels overwhelming fragile, or momentarily obscured. We are still leaning how to rest, to nurture what's separate, to invigorate the mingling. Marriage is play too, ridiculous and sweet. To grow a life together is not always to agree or know the way forward but to know you belong beside each other and that's enough. The path ahead is glittering faintly, and we're bound to fall short, to disappoint and delight, but there's promise too. So much goodness yet to come // 

“The screen is the empty mirror where the simulated shadows of things relentlessly replace each other. In our craven fear of being forgotten, we remain glued to the empty window” 
​- John O'Donohue

A year ago I decided to quit instagram and facebook. To delete my six year history of posts and catalogue of carefully curated squares of lovely and hard life: things baked, clothes made, babies birthed, eggs cleaned, poems penned, plants tended to. I wrote a blog about the decision to quit here. 

Thirteen months has given me room to ponder what it was I needed in that decision. 

First and foremost it gave me a sense of agency to let go, and in actually letting go, I noticed how good it felt to make a decision for myself that other people wouldn't necessarily want or accept or even need for themselves. A friend said leaving instagram was like "coming home to herself" and I couldn't agree more.

I also needed the gift of space it afforded me. What happened in the space freed from spending hours every day on instagram and facebook? It was simply absorbed in the day (and night) as little pockets of moments between the chores and doing and going - to simply be: to pause, to take more care or a deeper breath. These pockets, like the best placed, generous pockets of a beloved dress or coat, are warm and homely. They are essential to being comfortable, safe even, in the middle of the mess and clamour and unpredictability of life. I am sure there are ways to carve out digital pockets that are relaxing and constructive, and perhaps writing and reading blog posts and long-format news pieces is mine, but it still pales in comparisons to the real life sun-on-your-face pockets of pause and breath. I wouldn't cut them out now for anything. 

It has also given me a renewed appreciation for waiting, that easily neglected, yet necessary part of being human. I love Marnie Kennedy's reflections on waiting as a kind of prayerfulness:

"Instant knowledge, instant gratification, instant success are the messages of the media. However, waiting is of the essence of creatureliness and is the characteristic of genuine prayer, for it helps to purify the heart of impatience and consumer addiction. Waiting is in itself a deep place of revelation and leads to the unmasking of illusion, prejudice and fear"

I realised I could wait before taking a photograph of something beautiful or sharing something with friends or family. I could also wait before purchasing a new knitting pattern or ordering beautiful fabric to recreate something I'd see someone else make. I could wait before writing something that others would read in my newsletter, for ideas to come and go more gradually.  I could also wait for feedback which didn't come very often and was perfectly alright to keep creating and contemplating without instantaneous feedback and encouragement. I can wait for relationships to simmer and grow in real time. I can wait - and am still waiting - for my body to heal from illness without any guarantee or when or how. I can wait with less instead of impatiently craving and cramming in more. 

I'm sure you've come across these famous lines by Mary Oliver from her poem "Sometimes": 
Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it."

But what is she saying here? What does the whole poem speak of? Is it a glittery prompt to document our lived experiences for all to see? To labour over photographs and catchy descriptions on our digital devices? Or is it simply to remind herself - and us the readers - to sit with the present moment, however mundane or extraordinary, and drink it in. To savour the sublime ordinariness of grasshoppers and afternoon light, and the gifts of idleness and solitude, the messiness of faith and relationships. What if telling about it was just bearing witness to our own senses? To the stories and feelings of others in real time?

January is hot and humid. The pasture is tall and golden, seed heads flying. The cows have been ailing with eye infections and my farmer man is out working long hours in the heat. We've watched rainclouds build and roll over us without giving a drop. We've savoured dips in the dam and ripe summer fruit. I've put ice cubes in my coffee and begun a special quilt project using only linen scraps. Twice I've gone for a walk and watched the same wedged-tail eagle perched, perfectly still on the branch of a tall gum tree. We've stretched our hands into the soft fur of our new maremma pup, Pippin. He is the first puppy we've owned, and although a working dog, he is full of delight and fluffiness. I cannot help but smile when I see him. It's summertime - when the days stretch on and on, and we sigh audibly with relief when the evening breezes come in. We have nowhere to go and not much to do, which is to say, we're content to lay low in this beautiful and exhausting season // 

2021 was another year of frequent making; sewing, stitching and knitting things to wear and give away as gifts. I found having a craft project going at all times helped with the constant changing and unsettling of routines. It tethered me to the confines of a thing - something to hold in my hands - to start and finish. To wear with joy, to give away with love. I was able to fill some gaps in my wardrobe and make use of scraps and offcuts too. 

Here are my favourite me-made things from the year:

Hinterland Dress + Lark Tee

The perfect combination! I ended making two hinterland dresses this year - the first in a beautiful terracotta/clay coloured linen cotton and the second in a natural oatmeal hemp-linen. The pattern by Sew Liberated is  well-written and easy to follow, but it's worth taking time to make sure the fit is correct, especially in the bust and shoulders. I opted for the sleeveless version without a button placket and the thin waist ties. The pockets are deep and generous. 

I also made 5 long-sleeve lark tees (pattern by Grainline Studio). This felt like a real accomplishment - the pattern itself is very straightforward and easy to follow. I loved being able to modify the arm and torso length to fit my body perfectly and the rounded boat-neck (which has always been my favourite neckline). Not to mention being able to use natural knit fabrics that suit the seasons - cotton jersey and merino wool jersey. I reach for them day after day! They are wonderful worn on their own and under sleeveless dresses like my hinterland and washi dresses. 

Buness Beret 

Someone once told me knitting in colour work was like painting; it is so enjoyable! And stranded colour work is not nearly as difficult as I always thought it would be - the hardest thing is holding an even and relaxed (but not too relaxed) tension with the different strands of yarn - and like most craft techniques it becomes easier and more natural the more you do it.

​I loved this pattern inspired by traditional fair isle designs the first time I saw it. I extended the ribbing on the brim so that it would cover my ears a little better - I can't stand a hat that doesn't do that - what is the purpose?! I was also able to use yarn already in my stash. 

Seashell Mitts and Fiddler Mitts

Warm fingerless mittens were a saving grace for me this year over the cold months when the circulation in my hands got so poor I was getting blue and white fingers and chill blains on my knuckles. It seems my thyroid is no longer functioning as she should and that is affecting a number of things, including circulation in my body. 

Melissa's seashell mitts pattern is free and wonderful to follow. The other pair were requested by Archie - I used the Fiddler Mitts pattern without the frilly edging. 

Seaside Shawl + Felix Cardigan 
I finished this shawl at the beginning of 2021 and have worn it non-stop through every season - it is so versatile! I love the subtle sage green colour and can wear it with pretty much everything I own. The cotton-silk yarn is soft and durable and doesn't pill at all. The pattern is by Carrie Bostick Hodge. 

And the Felix Cardigan. It is perhaps my favourite knitted garment yet - it was a simple and quick knit and is flattering over dresses or tops. I used wool yarn unravelled from a wrap I made years ago held together with a silk + mohair blend. The result is soft and warm and snuggly. It does pill but not too noticeably thanks to the halo of the mohair. I love this dearly. 

Wiksten Oversize Jacket

Thus was a very luxurious and technically challenging project for me. I have admired versions of this jacket using the Merchant & Mills jacquard cotton for a few years. When this clay-rose hued version of the fabric came on sale I purchased just enough to make one for myself. The jacquard was quite fiddly to sew neatly with, but I got there in the end. The jacket is also lined with a medium weight cotton-linen fabric - the result is a very warm and quite heavy, snuggly jacket. You really do feel like you are pulled down into a hug - or wearing a quilt around your shoulders. I love the pockets too. Pattern by Wiksten in Making Magazine. 

Ogden Camisoles 

I love these camisoles. They are the perfect summer layer - lightweight and almost silky cotton lawn from Liberty of London and the elegant and simple camisole pattern from True Bias. I was able to cut them from just 1 metre of fabric with generous scraps left over. Highly recommend the pattern too which is easy to follow.

Flying Geese Cushion + Prayer Quilt

I also have to include these: a flying geese prayer cushion and also reflective blanket as a collaboration with my friend and artist Adam Lee. It was an invigorating and enjoyable creative process to play with linen and cotton and the traditional geese "triangle" design. The cushion was to accompany a commissioned painting of his and the prayer blanket will be part of an exhibition Adam is doing for Kyneton Contemporary in March. The latter will include five of Adam's mesmerising, beautiful paintings with five accompanying blankets that have been made by local makers and artisans and are in conversation with each his painted works and themes. I cannot wait to see them all sharing space together. 

// 
Winter + Spring Making
Autumn Making
Summer Making 
Making 2020

How about you friends, what have you loved making this past year? 

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte (1847)
Read for my bookclub. It was so strange reading slowly and dissecting it with others. I realised how much I had forgotten, or overlooked in past readings. I loved this book so much as a young adult and found such beauty and consolation in Jane's story, and yet now reading it, I was frequently troubled, especially in Jane and Rochester's relationship and romance. Charlotte is a master storyteller. So worth reading if you haven't before. 

Assembly by Natasha Brown (2021)
Lent by a friend. This was a fast read - maybe over two nights - and seemed to end too soon! I found it really engrossing, interesting, horrifying and thoughtful. Highly recommend. 

Right to Sex by Amia Svinivasen (2021)
I have been wanting to read book of essays for some time. I was delighted when it was lent to me! Svinivasen explores issues of sexuality, consent, pornography, incel movements, desire, racial injustice and more - she looks at how feminist and philosophical theory has sought to understand these issues over time, and where such theories are lacking or unsatisfactory for our times. Her essays are intelligent and personable, thoughtful and arresting. Svinivasen skilfully balances her own views and questions with those of other academics and I was left with much to ponder and examine further.  I cannot recommend this highly enough. 
​
Gift From the Sea By Anne Morrow Lindberg (1955)
A re-read after many years. It was the perfect book to take down to the sea side on our holiday in November. I found Anne's reflections on life and shells, on motherhood and faith, as profound, beautiful and timeless as I did the first time. So worth reading. 

Let Your Life Speak: Listening for the Voice of Vocation by Parker Palmer (1999)
Read for my studies last semester. I found Palmer's life story fascinating and his thoughts around vocation and coming to more contemplative (yet practical) faith really fresh and compelling. He writes: "Self-care is never a selfish act - it is simply good stewardship of the only gift I have, the gift I was put on earth to offer others. Anytime we can listen to true self and give the care it requires, we do it not only for ourselves, but for the many others whose lives we touch.”

A Spacious Life: Trading Hustle and Hurry for the Goodness of Limits by Ashley Hayles (2021)
Mum gifted me this book and I took it away on holiday. I savoured it slowly, and appreciated Ashley's honesty and vulnerability. She weaves in personal stories, scripture, reflection and practical suggestions carefully and beautifully. We are not called to lives of hustle and hurry, of stress and bitterness Ashley argues - but to spaciousness and healthy limits, to healing through play and rest, community and connection, to faith that renews and refreshes our whole beings - body, soul and mind, Highly recommend. 

The Last Guests by J P Pomare (2021)
I don't usually read this genre (suspense, crime, thriller), but after reading an interview with the New Zealand born author I was intrigued and requested a copy from my local library. I ended up reading it over the two days I was stuck in bed with a stomach bug at the beginning of December. It was the perfect escape - a thrilling, quick read with rather unexpected twists and intriguing characters. It definitely made me think twice about air bnb's and house surveillance~ 

The Power of the Dog by Thomas Savage (1967)
I loved this. It was a quick and thrilling read over a couple of nights. The language is spare and evocative. It makes me want to delve into the world of American gothic westerns! The dialogue seamlessly slips from spoken words to thoughts and stream of consciousness in the main characters. It is as much a portrait of personal relationships and family as much as it is a thrilling Western. I read it after watching the film (which is beautifully composed and acted) - but definitely enjoyed reading the book and getting so much more from the characters and back stories.

Top 9 books of 2021:
1. The Tall Man
2. You Are Not a Gadget
3. Adam Bede
4, Anti-Diet
5. Hold Your Fire
6. This Golden Fleece
7. The Year of Magical Thinking
8, Right to Sex
9. The Power of the Dog

Find more details of books read this year in the posts below.

//

Winter Reading
Autumn Reading
Summer Reading

Oh the slow, lazy, hazy days that fall between Christmas and the dawn of the new year. How they lengthen with summer sunshine and books and leftovers. I recently made a second sleeveless hinterland dress in a beautiful fabric made from undyed hemp and linen fibers. There is something about it's earthy, neutral hue that soothes me. Like the sway of lavender blooming outside, sips from a warm mug of coffee, thumbing the pages of a new book... 

Christmas was a day of blessing, of excitement and sunshine, quiet and calm, candlelight. It was perhaps the simplest and gentlest one we've had as a family (in part owning to my being so weary and recovering from recent illness), and yet it was a day overflowing with love, and mugs of warm tea, good food and company, hearty thankfulness. 

May all God wants
to bless you with
come to be, and may
your inner mangers,
fresh with hope,
hold wonders of His love,
and splendors of His world,
and wisdoms of His word

May peace surround you,
behind and before you,
your words and work,
your hearth and kin,
and all the friends 
you haven't seen,
in your heart speak:
the prince of peace 

And as the trees of the field
clap their hands,
may you sing joy -
marvel in the clouds
bees and sprouting seeds
full plates and grubby chins,
jolly abandon
it all begins with love.

December is a blur of endings and illness and sunshine and the garden bursting with colour and growth, the flap of birds and the buzz of bees. We pick spent poppy heads for the door wreath and eat the last of the snow peas and shell the first of the broad beans (which the boys call "exploding rocket beans!"). Our dwelling, Fiddler's Cottage, undergoes much needed repairs to the wood cladding and is also given a lick of fresh paint which is glorious to behold.. We observe the four weeks of advent with our calendar of boxes filled with love notes and sweets, we read storybooks and Christmas fables and scriptures and poems, on Sundays we light the candles on our wreath and reflect on the gifts of hope, peace, joy and love Jesus brings...