I haven’t had a herb garden for ……… oh……….. about 15/16 years.

Miss Lou’s dad helped me make one when we were living in QLD, but I haven’t really had the place or inclination to make one since.

Until now.

To be completely honest with myself, I turned my back on much of what I learned about gardening, organics, herbology, essential oils, alternative therapies, spirituality etc  during that time of my life as I just wanted to forget. I didn’t want to draw on knowledge associated with that arsewipe so that I didn’t have to remember the painful things too.

But it’s time to make new associations.

With our recent gardening exploits, my soap making exploits, and our cooking from scratch exploits, it’s really got me thinking about all the herbs that I could and should be growing myself for our use in all these things.

For companion planting in the garden to aid in natural pest control, bringing beneficial insects into our garden and getting the best out of our plants. For adding into home made soaps and other self care and cleaning products to suit our skin/hair, cleaning needs without synthetic chemicals. For use in our cooking for better flavour, texture and health benefits.

So,

I’ve started with just a couple of plants.

Lemon grass in a pot for kitchen and cosmetic uses, penny royal near the back entrance to repel ants and provide relief for mozzie bites, chamomile for therapeutic use.

Over the coming weeks I’ll be buying more small pot plants or propagating seedlings of more herbs that we would commonly use. I have quite a list that I want to put in. Parsley, Lavender, Mint, Rosemary, Thyme, Oregano, Marjoram, Sage, Chives just to start with.

Oh and Lemon Balm. Lots and lots of Lemon Balm. Just because I used to love brushing past it and inhaling the scent it released. Heavenly.

Along with our gardening efforts and cooking from scratch, we’ve been trying to get back to basics with a few other things too.

Like cutting down our plastic bag use. I’m getting much better at remembering to put our reusable bags back in the car after they are unpacked and the kids are getting used to using a sandwich keeper/lunch box and drink bottles instead of popping their sandwiches in zip lock bags and taking poppas. Now I just need to get around to finishing off my own set of fruit and vege green bags. (Don’t ask. I don’t know why I haven’t done my own yet, but I just have to put the strings in them.)

Mum has apparently been getting lots of positive/complimentory comments on her set of bags though one stupid checkout chick at a local supermarket wanted to know where the bags came from and had to ask the manager if they still weighed them the same as the plastic bags!  WTF?!?  *rolls eyes*

The manager for her part was just back from 3 weeks leave and worried that the store had bought out a new product that she didn’t know about and what to charge Mum for them!

Mum?  She did eventually make them understand that her grandaughters had made the bags for her and to weigh them just like a regular plastic one but I dunno how she didn’t bitch slap the pair of them silly..

Me? I’m wondering how the check out chick manages to get out of bed in the morning………… if she’s thrown for a loop by reusable fruit and vege bags can you imagine all the challenges she must face in her day to day life when anything unexpected or different happens?!  lmao

I bet I could convince her that the sky was falling…………….

The hills in the distance that is.

Now you don’t.

That’s how thick the smoke has been that has drifted up our way. Visibility all over the area was down to around 1km yesterday.

It was so surreal. To look out over the town was like looking out on a cold and foggy morning. Only it’s not winter and it wasn’t cold.

I’m involved with community education in our local zone and we’ve been pushing the “Leave Early or Stay and Defend” message whenever we could over the past six months.

We’ve sat down with people and started working out protection plans for their properties. If they were going we told them what to take and where to go and suggested things that they  might not consider in an emergency situation. If they were staying to defend we told them where to have water, where to clear area’s, what to do as a fire front approaches, what to do after it has passed.

We explained about ember attack and how most houses are lost to ember attack, usually after the fire front has passed and that they are reasonably safe in their homes if they have put in the preparation and get back outside as soon as they can to put out any hot spots near their homes and make sure that embers haven’t gotten into any gaps.

The other day………….god that sounds like a fairy tale opening. So not appropriate for this nightmare.

The day that Victoria exploded with fires, we girls were all emailing, as we do and Jayne was telling us about her friend who was tossing up between staying in her home or evacuating.

I rattled off a few things, as you do, as I’ve been trained to do, and didn’t think much more of it till later in the day.

Thankfully the friend got out. Thankfully she and her family are ok.

But so many aren’t.

Whether they had a plan or not.

Even the people with plans, with good plans, who were prepared were caught out. They didn’t have time, there was no warning, the fire was too intense for property protection measures by home owners to make much if any difference.

It makes me sick to my stomach to think about how many have died.

It also makes my heart ache to think of the firefighters who helped some of the people who died to make plans, who were active in educating their communities and the blame they will put on their own shoulders.

I hope they can remember that at an average fire the advice and plans would have worked. That those people would have been ok……………

It’s just that there is nothing average about the conditions or the resulting fires that have ravaged Victoria over the past few days and that was completely out of their control.

that the inside of my piano smells like my granddad’s house?

Seriously.

TJ was dusting and switching the runner along the top of the piano for me earlier and while he had everything off the top he flipped it open to have a sticky beak (He’s a kid. Curiosity is his job).

He calls out to me saying “you can sure tell this is really old Mum!”

And you can.

By the smell.

And it smells like my granddad’s house.

I remember at my granddad’s house there was this one room…

It was in the middle of the house. A formal living room full of heavy, tapestry covered chairs with an assortment of velvety, feather or thread stuffed cushions, wedding portraits on the mantel, chunky occasional tables covered with lacy doilies, delicate porcelain ornaments and more photos in fancy metal edged frames.  There were elegant twin porcelain Siamese cats that stood knee high with ashtrays for hats.  The windows and a flimsy white door that lead to the veranda were covered in thick drapes that completely blocked out the light and there was an antique upright piano near the door.

The solid, cream door that was always shut.

Not because the room was out of bounds, but just because it wasn’t a room that was ‘lived in’ day to day.

I sometimes wondered if perhaps it was left as my Nana liked it…

I often imagined that I could feel her there…

I wondered if she smiled as we ran though playing tag or laughed with us learning to play on her old piano, or if she hid with us as we played hide and seek ducking our heads behind the massive arms of the lounge chairs while stifling our giggles behind our hands.

My Nana died when I was 9 months old. I have no memory of her but I have impressions.

Impressions gathered from the memories of people who have them and from the home she created. Impressions of a lady who loved her family and did her best to give them a lovely home. Of a lady who considered every child and grandchild precious, no matter what. Of a lady who knew her own mind and followed her heart.

Mum and I have been doing a little family history stuff lately and she’s told me another story – I didn’t know that Nan eloped with Granddad. My nan was Anglican; my granddad was Irish Catholic. Mum recently told me about how my nan ran away with my granddad to my great uncle who was a catholic priest living in a religious community in Ballarat. My nan received six weeks of instruction, converted and they were married. Apparently it was a huge deal and caused a great scandal.

Definitely a lady who followed her heart…

Isn’t it funny how smells can transport us to other times and places?

It’s about 25 years since I was last in my granddad’s house. He died when I was around 11, but I will never forget the smell of that room or the joy found there as a child and now I just need to lift the lid on my piano to remind me.

We are having an up and down week around here. Miss Lou’s father’s family are still carrying on with their shit and it’s getting nasty. Nasty bullshit wears thin after a while. Especially when you are being blamed for everything under the sun except the current global financial crisis though I’m sure that will be the subject of the next round of sledging.

Yesterday, my hubby decided that I could use a distraction.

So he rings me from the fire station at 8pm to see if I wanted to help do a food run out to a big fire in our area.

He was meant to be leaving for work, the kids were finishing their homework and needing to get organised for bed, I needed to drop some stuff up to Miss Lou who was at her nan’s for the night and he wanted me to drop everything to go tripping around the countryside.

Needless to say I turned the offer down.

Around 11 o’clock last night I hear  a comment over the scanner about where to locate food for the firefighters on the ground.

The food run people were still out there.

I ring hubby and he’s gobsmacked.

Apparently the food was only meant to be picked up in town and taken to the fire for the local small community’s CWA to prepare, cook and serve. Should have taken about an hour tops to run out there and back.

I don’t know why he was surprised, he really should have known better. The motto of the fire service is ‘hurry up and wait’ after all – there is no such thing as a quick job! lol

I told him next time he wants to distract me from my worries to go with something more practical………… like a stiff drink and a good book. And chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate.