Daisy Heads

The giant daisy bush in our backyard is so tall that it sometimes seems the tips of it are floating in the sky. 

The tips which are now dry, hardened and brown (like so many others on the lower branches).

The heat of the summer sun is often not good for gardens.

But for curious little people, it creates a range of new textures to discover -
dry, rough, crunchy, prickly.


We decided to collect some of these prickly daisy heads

and use them to make little daisy head creatures - (some of which were animals who also had dry, hardened, prickly parts):

Daisy head turtle - cut little bits of felt out into the shape of flippers and a head, then glue these on.

Daisy head mouse (left) - glue a short bit of stalk onto the front for a nose and two dried leaves onto the top for  ears.
A little stick can be stuck on the back for a tail.
Daisy head echidna (right) - glue a bit of stalk on the front for a snout and then add two eyes.

These small creatures are very easy to make, and even if daisy heads are not present in the garden, could be made from other things - you just need a little bit of  imagination ! 
We use strong craft glue or tacky glue as this helps things stick a little better and therefore last longer (because little hands love to play with these).

Does it feel very rough

or smooth and really silky?

Does it prickle when you touch

or just feel very tickly?

Does it feel hard and dry

and crinkle when you squeeze it?

Or is it soft and very wet

and bounce back when you poke it?

(A poem I wrote for my children)

Treasure Hunting (aside)

Our footsteps are not in sync.

Big feet moving fast and with purpose.

Little feet dancing underneath.

The rhythm is uneven.

Choppy.

Jerky.

Until the (unexpected) loud clanging of metal saucepan on stove brings the dance to a sudden halt.


The dancing continues outside.

Tiny feet moving alone while hunting for treasures.

Green things, brown things, round things, smooth things.


An extension of our favourite game...

What do you think we'll find today?


Something red? 
Something soft?
Something long?
Something small?

The backyard becomes a stage to a song of squeals accompanying that dance.

The bright plastic basket is filled with their finds.

The little dancing feet return.

And on a table centered with colourful treasures, dinner is finally served.

My Pot (again)

I've mentioned my pot before (here) - it's big, it's brown, and it's heavy.

And everything cooked in it is absolutely delicious (so it's sort of magic too!).


On days when we don't have to quickly pack bags, hurriedly find matching shoes and finally rush out the door, I use my pot.

I chop, stir and place it in the oven.

And while we play and read and create (at our own pace), the warm aromas wrap around us - a reminder that we're home.

So today, I thought I'd share some things we've made in our pot - and maybe it will inspire you to fill yours too!

This recipe is adapted from one a friend shared with me:

Cassoulet
You need:
6 skinless chicken legs
1 leek, finely sliced
1 onion, finely chopped
4 garlic cloves, crushed
2 carrots, peeled and sliced
3 large celery stalks, sliced
2 large zucchinis, sliced
800g of tinned, diced tomatoes
A generous slosh of white wine
1/4 cup of finely chopped parsley
1 tablespoon of finely chopped thyme (or 1 tsp dried oregano)
2 bay leaves
400g tin of black beans, drained and rinsed
400g tin of chickpeas, drained and rinsed
Ground chilli powder or paprika
Freshly ground salt & pepper

You do:
Heat some olive oil in a big pot over medium-high heat and brown the chicken legs evenly on all sides. Remove and set aside.
Cook the leeks, onion, garlic, carrots, celery and zucchini in the pot over medium heat, until softened (about 5 minutes).
Add the tomatoes, wine, reserved chicken, parsley, thyme and bay leaves. Bring to a boil.
Add the beans and chickpeas, then reduce the heat and allow to simmer, covered, for about 20 minutes (or until the meat is just falling from the bone).
Remove the chicken from the bone, roughly chop and return to the pot. Heat for 5 more minutes.
Sprinkle the paprika on top and season with salt and pepper.

Cassoulet - serve warm with a piece of fresh, crusty bread.
Any left-overs can be stored in the fridge or freezer for later.

And here are two other yummy, pot-cooked dishes too:

Butternut Squash, Chicken & Quinoa Stew

The recipe for this can be found here (on my friend, Val's site - Mental Chew).

This was so yummy! I used sweet potatoes, fire roasted tomatoes
and a couple of large handfuls of kalamata olives.
And my kids loved it too!

Quinoa Casserole

I found the recipe for this here.

A tiny little photo, but this dish was full of flavour!
The smell of the feta and paprika while this was cooking was amazing!

When I made this dish again, I used diced zucchini and eggplant, chicken stock and smooth ricotta (in place of the beetroot, feta and water). Stirring some extra stock in partway through cooking made it into a beautiful, creamy, risotto-like dish. Serve with some freshly grated parmesan and a sprinkle of parsley on top. Perfectly easy for any evening.

"Often the mere sharing of recipes with strangers 
turns them into good friends."
(Jasmine Heiler)

What have you been cooking?

Morning, Mummy! (aside)

Everyday is Mother's Day

The day begins early.

The soft tinkling a prelude to the gentle thud as tiny feet find the floor.

The warm darkness still wrapped around me.

Pitter patter

Pitter patter

Tip-toe

Tip-toe

Even in the dark he can find me - his little toes digging deep; the thin cotton sheet now twisted around us both.

I pretend not to notice.

The sheet moves slightly as his fingers wriggle - a warm up for the first little poke.

Poke

Poke

Poke!

I curl around him in a tight hug trying to hold him still.

Poke

Poke

Poke!

Tiny fingers slip through the space and find my cheek.

I ignore him still, but his hand finds my smile and squeezes hard.

Squeeze

Squeeze

Squeeze!

I laugh (sort of) and reluctantly roll out of bed.

Did you have a good sleep?
Did you have a nice dream?

My standard morning questions answered with a big cheeky grin and a story about a green dragon.

We smile and cuddle as he drinks his milk - his big blue eyes bright and looking straight at mine - he knows me and snuggles in tight.

I slowly release myself from his hug and fill the kettle.

5:15 AM.

(I sigh)

The darkness holds firm.

The Sun not yet up.

But mine is.

Outside (aside)

Sometimes life happens most outside.

Among the broken branches and fallen leaves.

Over the rough surfaces of unevenly placed rocks.

Between the twisted slipperiness of exposed tree roots.


As small feet navigate these we notice every step.

When little hands grasp and feel we bend and look too, our words of exclamation and encouragement softly wrapped in the breeze around us.

Outside the leaves are rustling.
(Inside the phone is ringing.)

Outside the twigs are crackling.
(Inside the oven's timer beeps.)

Outside the sun is shining - the tips of the thick, dewy moss forming a sea of glittery sparkles.
(Inside the washing machine halts loudly to a stop.)


Outside our feet beat against the earth as we run and chase each other along the winding trails in the valley.

Outside the wind whips through our hair and lets our laughter dance around us.

Outside we stop, flushed and rosy-cheeked, and feel the pulse of this earth beneath us.

Outside there is growth.