Boxing Day - great weather for ducks.

Pixie and I spent some quality time with Puddle and Little Quack on Boxing Day.  We thought that if we couldn't beat the rain we may as well get amongst it.

The Manger that Dad built

Despite cooking like a 'wild' woman in preparation for the first night of Christmas festivities I just had to make this post.  Mum has been wanting her own manger to house a nativity scene in her home at Christmas time for many years.  Finally and very successfully she co-erced my father into building one for her this year and needless to say, as those of you who know SJM would expect, the final product is magnificent...lighting and all.  I thought I would share my mother's joy.

The big reveal...

I am impressed with the inquisitive nature of my Blog followers.  To those who emailed, I am happy to send instructions on making a comment if you would like...

My whacky new find is actually a Buddha's hand, or known as a bushukan by the Japanese.  He is an ancient citrus fruit which explains why fingered citrus is another moniker...I prefer Buddha's hand myself.  Getting up close will reveal a strong scent, similar to a lime I think although I am led to believe the taste is much like a lemon. The fruiterer told me he will turn yellow if I leave him to ripen in my fruit bowl, so I will be leaving him to mature for some time yet - NO not the fruiter, the Buddha's hand!

My investigations reveal that Buddha's hand is used predominantly by the Chinese and Japanese for perfuming rooms and clothing - rather interesting don't you think?  Like other citrus the peel can be candied into what is referred to as succade which I believe is French for 'sugarbox'.  I think the zest of my Buddha's hand would be a sensation in a tart or cake...perhaps a few slices accompanying steamed fish...any suggestions from my Savvy Aunt would be appreciated. 


Mel - I am sorry as I believe that the Buddha's hand is mostly seedless, but if I find one I will jet it off your way.

I have scoured the internet for recipes and found a few interesting ideas.  I will reveal my creation when I decide what to christen my little fellow on.  In the meantime, I think he looks rather festive in my Christmas fruit bowl.

Merry Christmas to you all! XX

A Whacky Find...

In an effort to soothe the pain of suffering through another year's tax return (yes, proven - I am a champion procrastinator), and as I was in one of my old neighbourhoods, I returned to a place that which never failed in warming the cockles of my heart.
Those that know me know that it's usually the simple things that move me the most, but some may not be aware of a quirk I mostly keep to myself and that is my fondness to wander about in odd places, often losing the notion of time, entertaining myself with out of the ordinary treasures that most wouldn't grant a glance.  At times, particularly if left unchecked, I may be found lost in time lurking the dingy corridors of an old hardware store (perhaps the warming familiar smell which would return me to from when I was a kid visiting my grandparents and would rush to help them 'shut up shop'), or delighting in the odd tidbits that someone once owned in a second-hand shop and wiping the dust while thinking (read 'wishing') "I just may have a place for this", or being intoxicated with the smell of fresh stationary in my local Officeworks - I could go on.  Well, yesterday I visited one of 'the' places  - a little fruit shop in Sherwood that is so jam packed with stuff that you have to walk sideways and your nose will prickle if the man next to you hadn't showered recently (the theory well-tested yesterday and he clearly had not showered for at least a week).  But alas, his odour stalking me failed to ruin the joy as I slid from aisle to corner picking up every single jar I saw to analyse the label, sniffing herbs, getting up close and inhaling the aroma of perfectly ripe oversized-overpriced mangoes and imagining the fun I could have if I was a much more clever cook and knew what half the stuff that I smelt and felt was.   Then my comrades, I came across the most peculiar little edible creation I have ever seen.  It's name most fitting I found, but I am not going to divulge too much just yet because I am curious how many of you know what this creature is.  I urge you to have a go.  I won't leave you suffering for too long I promise.
Aunty Trisha- you don't count, well you do, but I believe you will have this one in the bag, and as well, you probably have used it, and most likely during the week before you left!

I would have taken another end on, but I couldn't get the little blighter to stand up and besides it looked rather like a 'rude sign' and I didn't want to have such an unsavoury flavour on my Blog.  Good luck!

Pixie having fun with Playdoh and JoJo

It helped that that JoJo was poorly and could not care.  If only Playdoh had therapeutic properties...

Welcome Piri

With the passing of our old boy Russell and the dwindling health of our gorgeous Olive, I became fearful of the possibility that my parents may find themselves 'dog-less'.  So I determined to 'one day soon' find another little soul to share their days.  That day came a lot sooner than expected, however when this little fellow caught my eye, I was sure he was the 'one' sent to do his work.  Piri is his name, a fitting name which we all came up with after a bit of research.  Piri is derived from the Northern Territory Aboriginal name for the Bilby,which I bet you agree he has a distinct similarity with.

He is a devine little fellow with a heart and spirit as big as he is.  More importantly, he brings a smile to your dial the moment you meet him.  My parents adore him and he returns the affection 10-fold .

Goodbye to a canine mate

A few days ago we lost our  very dear friend Russell.

A fitting name for our feisty Jack Russell, a short smokestack of a dog, who, if was human, would have been a wrestler.  He walked with an air of cockiness which at times undermined the softness of his heart.  At the dawn of every morning he would set out to conduct what my father described as his 'morning constititional' and that was to check the boundary of my parent's property.  On the rare occasion he would discover an irregularity, usually along the unfenced western border where outsiders could be found, he would alert us back at the house with a riotous frenzy of barking.  We knew he would never leave that boundary line, so we would remark "there he goes again" knowing the strangers were safe unless of course they dared to cross.  Aside from this fuss, he was relatively a fuss-free little canine who trotted along like he had not a care in the world, always holding his head high and shoulders square - perhaps in case a 'doll' may cross his path, or a casting agent from Doggywood, but alas I feel that day never came.  He also loved teasing and rustling up a bit of mayhem with our neighbours which I am sure Pam and Mal miss nowadays.  Russ could mostly be found standing guard in a potplant at our back steps (Mum never did get a plant to grow in that pot), or seeking refuge from the heat in the laundry with his large list of furry friends. But whenever an unexpected guest (which equates to everyone in Russ' day) would dare to roll down our driveway, our boy would test their resolve to make that visit.  He would raise a particularly ferocious holler every time a local Italian farmer dropped in deliver a small sample of his crops - we never knew why, but Russ seemed to 'know' people, and anyway it helped to shorten the visit and give me enough time to hide to escape his lecherous smirk.  Where we went, Russ went - on the property that was, as a trip in the car upset his tummy.  As his muzzle turned grey his trot became more a swagger after near on 15 years, but his love for my mother never denied him being alongside as she would work in the garden or tend to the other animals. 

The passing of Russ has left a very big ache in our hearts.  Good bye old mate, you made a difference while you were here.

Days Like This

Today is a bit grey, so I took a look around me and saw this face.
Admit it, he made you smile didn't he? 
Feel free to use whenever you need a 'rosie moment'.

Woezel and Pip

The latest editions to Pee Wee's Rest.  I know what you are all thinking...and I say to you "they were calling my name"...  My morning regime now includes darting about the garden to find worms which have surfaced  to enjoy the rain.  These furry angels dance very excitably at the sight of their wriggly breakfast.
Luca and Trooper especially love their new feathered friends.

Mel's Laatste Sup

Mel's last weekend in Australia - 8 bottles of champagne created a fitting atmosphere for much frivolity at Pee Wee's Rest.  Not much frivolity this morning though....

Hooroo Mellie, it's been a blast mate XX

Dancing with Brolgas

An aboriginal legend tells of a beautiful tall slender young woman Buralga who loved to dance.  She spurned the attentions of an evil magician and with a whirlwind of dust she was changed into a graceful crane.  The brolgas dance is famous for its elegant bowing and bobbing interspersed with periods when they stop to throw back their heads and trumpet loudly.  Sometime they leap into the air, a metre or so high and parachute back to ground on their broad black and grey wings.  These dances are thought to represent a courtship and helps to strengthen the bond between Brolgas who mate for life.

The complicated dance of the brolga is imitated by the Aborigines in some of their dances.

I saw my first 'free' brolga during a recent adventure to Carnarvon Gorge.  I could barely believe my eyes and without doubt this was the highlight.

For those of you who didn't know, the brolga is our only true crane in Australia and although I didn't actually see them dance, it's not that hard to imagine.  They actually look like a feathered ballerina with a splash of red at their tip.  As I watched the three, I imagined the harmony and rhythm of their dance with their slender limbs and elegant necks moving every so gracefully through the mushy undergrowth.  I pleaded for the bobbing, advancing, retiring and trumpeting revealing Buralga but alas it was not to be on this occasion.

As close to I am ever likely to get having Brolgas in my own back yard....

This is Pixie - the world became a more wonderful place the day she arrived.

Let The Fun Begin

I have for a few moons been thinking about a Blog as an alternative to FaceBook and other social sites.  At first they seem like a great idea to keep in touch, exchange chat and photos, but alas, with the passing of time I have watched my own FB page grow beyond what I feel comfortable with.  My very savvy Aunt tripping through France is the reason I decided to steam ahead, and if you grin while reading the little snippets in Dancing with Pixies as I do with the Frog Blog than I will be a happy Fraulein.


I truly don't know the ins and outs of this new try, so bear with me. 

Enjoy!