We live in a tiny cottage about 2 kms from the very centre of Melbourne. And that’s just the way we like it. You might think that would preclude us from industrial scale food harvesting, but you would be wrong.

Well, industrial might be pushing it just a tad but our olive trees are so monstrous and laden with so much fruit that they are certainly the equivalent of a tiny grove.

The other day I had our arborist come in (the same one I sent a text to a few years ago that inadvertently finished with three kisses – force of habit – MORTIFYING!) to come in and lop the tops off so we could a) harvest all the olives from the top and b) reduce the risk of one of these immense trees toppling over and bringing down the slightly rickety back bit of our house.

In the next shot you can see the arborist mid lop. He’s standing on the top of our fence which is about 7 feet tall and he’s no slouch. That should give you some sense of the scale of the trees. Bloody enormous.

The entire courtyard was a sea of olive branches, so many so that we felt a bit overwhelmed.

We harvested the ones from the downed limbs. When I say we, I mean my handsome husband. He did most of the work. Nah, he did all of it.

And he’s never looked quite so Greek as this.

We’ve got about 30kgs of olives. And we discarded probably another 10kg that were past it or badly blemished. In the 4 years we’ve been collecting, it is by far our biggest crop. By far.

After the harvest we sat for 5 hours straight and put three slits in each olive preparation for brining. When I say we, I of course mean him. His hands are still stained from the process.

So now our precious olives are soaking in their salty bath for a biblical 40 days and 40 nights. After that, we’ll preserve our babies; some in olive oil, some in brine. I’m going to have to order in extra preserving jars and buy tens of litres of olive oil. Hello Costco.

I am utterly in love with the fact that we are able to have a true harvest from our tiny back yard. It was these wondrous olive trees (my eternal obsession – see this post) that sold me on our house.

Two years from now we should have another bumper crop from massive trees. In the meantime, I would love to find someone with a small press who might consider pressing some of ours for a very small batch of  our own olive oil. Now THAT would be amazing.

I am simply devastated to tell you that Kathreen and her partner, Rob, passed away suddenly last week. They were on a the trip of a lifetime around Australia with their two beautiful kids and many, including me, had been following Kathreen’s posts avidly.

Kathreen and Rob drowned off the coast of WA. Their kids were on the beach with friends.

There are simply no words for what I feel for those kids. I can’t stop thinking about them.

Kathreen was one of the leading lights in the craft blogging world and her death has left so many people reeling.

The funny thing about this blogging biz (both writing your own and reading others) is that you form bonds with people you’ve never met and possibly never will. Sometimes you don’t even really have any contact with them but get to know them through their writing. They let you into their world and you get attached. Sometimes deeply. There are thousands of people out there who are feeling Kathreen’s loss keenly and who are shedding tears for her babies.

From a personal perspective, when I first started blogging a few years back, Kathreen gave me lots of warm support and encouragement when a couple of things rattled my confidence and she also gave me my blog its first exposure to a wider audience when she published one of my tutorials on Whipup. We had never met but shared a number of email exchanges, most recently after my Action Pack post. I was and will be eternally grateful for her support of a new blogger. I looked up to her in almost every way – as a blogger, creator, galvaniser of community, giver of support and beautiful, thoughtful mother.

She gave so much, in so many ways, to so many people and her death leaves an enormous gap in the crafting community.

I’m just profoundly sad.

Another thing about the making community is their support of each other. Inundated with requests from people asking how they could help, Kathreen’s family have set up a trust fund for her kids.

You can donate via Paypal using otilijaandorlando@gmail.com or go to this post on WhipUp for details on how to do a transfer or direct deposit. There are instructions for both Australians and overseas residents.

I’ll just leave you with the last bit of advice from Jules who had to undertake the heart-breaking task of writing a post on Kathreen’s blog letting people know she had passed away. You can read the full post here, but it’s this last bit that we should all take away:

“…In the meantime, hug your children extra tight tonight, kiss your partner good bye, call your family and friends and say I love you.”

And if it feels right, make a donation towards Kathreen’s kids’ future. It can never be the same without their parents, but they might at least, down the track, take some small solace from the outpouring of love towards them, in their mother’s stead.

I made this canvas just before Christmas to decorate a bare spot on our wall.

I just bought wooden letters and then painted them and glued them on.

I used a different paint for the “DARLING” so it would stand out, but subtly. Loving that neon pop.

This is a phrase that is dear to my heart. It’s what I want to do. What I must do for the nourishment of my soul. One of the things I derive most pleasure in life from.

Only thing is, sometimes my soul feels a little bit more like wrapping my darlings in multiple layers of cotton wool and hiding under the bed than gallivanting off on an adventure – near or far.

Sometimes this internal conflict exhausts me and fear nearly overwhelms me, destroying that wonderful anticipation in the lead up to a trip.

But I still go. With my darling or darlings. And I’m always so elated that I did.

I imagine the woman who uttered this phrase (and I just know it was a chick) was one of those irrepressibly curious, sensible but adventurous types: a kind of Katharine Hepburn on the back of a camel in the Gobi desert one week, flying over Luxor in a hot air balloon the next, equally at home at a cocktail soiree as in a Bornean long house.

When I get really anxious I think about that girl. Her plane didn’t crash, she wasn’t robbed at knifepoint, didn’t contract rabies or perish in an earthquake. Nope, she died old and satisfied at the end of a long and fulfilling life.

But she wouldn’t have, if she hadn’t grabbed her husband by the hand and headed out into the world.

One of my best girls has moved to Tasmania and I popped down for just 2 brief nights in Hobart. It was short but very sweet.

Such a beautiful spot.

This is the view on the way in from the airport.

I felt like we were driving into the clouds.

These are the views from my friend’s house.

Yeah, it’s alright I suppose.

And I had no idea that Hobart loved me back as much as I loved it – see the cloud in the first pic?

It was a sign – I must return. If only so I can continue to crack hilarious Tassie jokes. That my friend just can’t get enough of.

You can imagine.

Next time I am going for much longer and will be visiting here, here and here.  I also need to do this walk.

Ahhh Tas, I have heard your siren song.

I made these hoop decorations as little take-home gifts from Olive’s butterfly birthday party.

I printed this ethereal image onto fabric.

After that I framed each butterfly in a small embroidery hoop. They look best framed slightly off-centre.

As a final touch, I added a few tiny flecks of gold paint here and there – just to give the slightest glimmer.

I was really pleased with the way these turned out.

They’re not, perhaps, the usual garish gewgaw that appeals to a 4 year-old, but I like to think, for that very reason, they might not be discarded quite as quickly.

But I’m not entirely oblivious to the needs of 4 year old party attendees: I sent ‘em home with a big fistful of sweets as well.

Having done one butterfly party already, I gently tried to persuade Olive to go with an ice-cream theme. But to no avail. The child loves “blutterflies”.  So blutterflies it was.

As a special treat for Olive and her friends, we arranged a butterfly adventure.

A butterfly-lovin’ lady came to the house and gave the girls a little talk about the life cycle of butterflies. The kids were fascinated.

She showed them a caterpillar, a chrysalis and even dressed Olive up as what looked like a butterfly on crack but was actually (I took her word for it)  an accurate representation of a butterfly with its 6 legs, lots of eyes and 2 noses!

She also brought a box of dead butterflies.

Because what’s a party without a stark reminder of the fragility of life and finality of death?

It was a good idea though because it gave the kids an opportunity to feel butterfly wings. At the same time it was explained to them why they couldn’t touch or pat the live butterflies they were about to meet.

There were varied reactions to the live butterflies. The birthday girl started out strongly but when one flew near her head she went into screaming hysterics. Other kids were completely mesmerised.

The butterflies were exquisite. These are monarch butterflies and their tipple of choice? Cotton wool balls soaked in Powerade. Of course.

There was, unsurprisingly, a butterfly cake. I popped a rabble  (which Google tells me is, with “swarm”, the collective noun for a group of butterflies) of these lovely rice-paper butterflies atop the cake.

For those of you that are religious, the taste of these butterflies will be very familiar. My girls expected them to be sweet so there was a bit of the old “pegheugh” and rapid expulsion of the offending butterflies, but if they’re going to try to eat them without being dipped in red wine, then what do they expect?

All in all there was a surfeit of blutterflies and a happy little 4 year old. A good outcome I think.

As always, happy to provide details of where I bought stuff, the butterfly company etc if anyone wants. Just leave a question in the comments.

Craftumi is an Australian online marketplace for buying and selling craft supplies. It’s the sister site to Made It (handmade Australian) and is a fab spot to pick up whatever crafty supplies your heart desires.

And if your heart desires the sewing pattern for twirling betty visors, you can now pop on over to my newly minted Craftumi shop and buy a copy of Hat Shop  - a compilation of fabulous things to put on your head (or your kid’s head or your life partner’s head) including my visor pattern from the wonderful publishers at Stash Books.

All for the very reasonable price of $15.99 (plus postage).

For my US and other side of the world readers, Hat Shop is also available in my US Etsy store.

So that’s the advertising segment of the post over.

Tonight,  to be completely honest, and for no precise reason I am feeling a little bit overwhelmed and wrung out. I know this too shall pass (hopefully by tomorrow morning) but I foresee a very large glass of restorative red wine in my near future. And perhaps an episode of Downton Abbey. And if a tipple and an hour with Lady Mary doesn’t fix it, then I really am stuffed!

I hope, au contraire to moi, that you beautiful people  - each and every one – are feeling happier than a dog with three balls. And that, as you can imagine, is some kind of happy I am wishing for you.

I’ve posted before about my beloved Zoku quick pop maker here, here and here.

Recently, another beloved in my life, my Godmother (just to be totally clear she is infinitely more beloved than the popsicle maker), sent me some tools for making my Zoku pops even more awesome.

Awesome on a stick.

And on that popsicular (it’s definitely a word) note I bid summer a fond farewell. Bring on the slow-cooked braises. They might not be as friendly as my smiling gal pal up there but they are just as welcome.

PS: She’s made with nothing more than orange juice and bits of apple. Healthy and friendly. What a doll.

Easterphanalia. It is definitely a word.

The Easter bunny arrived bright and early on Sunday morning. He left some beautiful eggs this year.

I was really very impressed with the way he managed to find some unusual ones. He’s a bunny after my own heart, that one.

Also, a most peculiar thing happened last week – apart from the miracle of the bunny-shaped bread.

There was a sharp knock at our door but when I answered there was no one there. Just a faint smell of cinnamon and chocolate wafting on the air. On the doormat was a tiny box. Inside the box were some colourful beans. Magical beans.

The kids were very excited to hear my tale and on Saturday afternoon we planted our magic beans in the garden with much anticipation and speculation.

The next morning, there were cries of astonishment when the girls discovered that, overnight, lollipops had sprung up from where the beans had been planted. Lollipops with swirls of colour the same as the beans they had planted.

By the way, did you know my 7 year old can read and has been known to read stuff over my shoulder? I”m just sayin’.

It seems that this miraculous sprouting first happened here.

The cranky bunnies were a big hit.

I turned these beautiful Italian liquorice tins into little bunny beds.

The grumpy ones got heart-shaped tails and cosy bedding in an effort to cheer them up.

It didn’t work. Man, they are perpetually pissed off.

And here was how we packaged up our bunny poo this year. Once again it was a huge hit with kids at kinder and school and among the more immature adults, ie, my friends.

Hope you all had a really lovely Easter and are slowly but surely recovering from the chocolate binge.

We took these fluffy bunnies to Olive’s kinder concert. They were  a big hit.

One big marshmallow, 2 snips of the scissors and a few dots with an edible pen and you get squealing kids. And some adults who wanted to but held it in.