high up in the trees

frankly my dear...

We're in Frankie magazine (Australia) June/July issue, on page 14. Have a little look below:

You'll find plenty of our pencil cases in our store, with buttons & all.

5 little whiskery senses for friday

Who better to introduce each five sense for 5 senses friday than a different local cat.

TASTE

Our adopted outdoor (stray) cat Misha waiting for her breakfast. She puts across a pretty convincing case.

There have been few taste sensations this week for the human residents of our little dwelling. However, if you had four furry limbs and a fine set of whiskers, it was rather good. The top shelf of cat food is equal to ours in the kitchen and it's the first thing you see upon entry... a wall of tiny fancy feast and royale tins stacked five high, column after column, row after row. A few containers of dried fish treats, cat biscuits (both hairball formula and one for the waistline), and a few brightly coloured boxes of bird seed for our feathered visitors.

We did find time though for tempura vegetables on a bed of rice at Kenzan at the GPO, enjoyed under the gas heaters, sitting outside with L & L.

HEAR

Our neighbour's cat awaiting the familiar 'click' of our wire door. She races around the corner and throws herself quite literally at our feet.

My conversation with a black swan, nibbling grass by the lake at the Botanical Gardens.

The opening music to a movie length episode of Inspector Montalbano which upon hearing instantly relaxes me, transporting me to Sicily.

Louise and I practising our Sicilian accents: "di gassa della bomba" from The Sense of Touch (II senso del tatto) which features a blind man smuggling drugs in the hollow of his cane, some gas cylinders (hence the favourite phrase) and a black dog called Orlando - vital ingredients for any detective story, intrigue and a hound. Think Poirot and the silent witness Bob in Agatha Christie's Dumb Witness or Nero Wolfe and a black labrador retriever named Jet in Die like a Dog.

SIGHT

Our neighbour's cat Carpatina watching our car pull up.

Snail mail makes its way from NO's, marked with an inky red airmail stamp. The travellers are... off to explore Cajun country, awaiting the reopening of Preservation Hall, taking in a post Katrina exhibition Come Hell and High Water: Portraits of Hurricane Katrina Survivors at the Ogden Museum and hoping to catch the Meters at the Contemporary Arts Center - in a nutshell. They've also spotted a very nice Howling Wolf tee for a certain someone.

The large praying mantis that resides outside the window by the computer, bobbing his head up and down as he suns himself on the glass window pane.

My geranium cuttings - they look nothing like the red ones in full bloom in the gardens I pass walking back from the city. Mine are tall, rangy and rarely flower. An Italian language school I pass has perfect ones all year round. Big, fat, red flowers with equally big green leaves.

FEEL

A happy stripy cats tail of a neighbourhood cat who we always forget the name of. For his flirty behaviour & casual swagger, we've dubbed him Casanova.

Replanting a potted succulent that took a tumble in the backgarden when I startled a possum. We have a family of ringtail possums with a tiny little baby, who have squeezed their way into our bursting at the seams extended household. They feast on the old apples and bird seed left by the birds in the feeder, suspending themselves upside down with the aid of a curly tail. Our local menagerie is an ever extending one.

Gardening without gloves, getting soil under my nails.

My heart pounding against my chest as I race up several flights of stairs to get to the rooftop office of rmit.

SMELL

My parent's cat and house guest Stella investigates & sniffs her way through her new surroundings.

The recently mowed lawn of the local footy oval as I walk home.

The pleasing smell of a second cup of coffee to soothe a pounding head.

The soothing smell of a soothing cup of peppermint tea to further soothe the head...

mice crop circles

A new crop of owls have arrived at our online store - Green Peg with circles on her tummy and a flower on her back, Cousin Aldo with pale pink stitching and a fat blue & white stripey tee, and Lucky with his big moon shaped eyes and long pale green beak... plus a few more. We're bursting at the seams with owl companions.

Aside from stuffing owls, naming them, and making the odd journal, the last few days have been spent...
Finally heading to the Pissarro exhibition at the NGV with friends... wandering through selecting which one I'd tuck under my arm and take home with me - Kitchen Garden at the Hermitage, Pontoise, 1874 (from the National Gallery of Art - Washington), I think it'll be today.

Meeting a pair of black swans each nestled in the two plushest sections of green grass by the lake green with algae. And finding all the yellow and red leaves have dropped from my favourite trees at the Gardens.

Carrying Carpatina around on my shoulders. Cat doormat? Shh, keep it to yourself.

Receiving emails from the N.O's travellers as it is too tricky to find a phone in order. Their CD stacks are growing at a rapid rate and they've been able to snaffle up a Vipers tee for both LJ & I. Yesterday it was oyster plates at Johnnies Po'Boy, the Factory in the afternoon and then a party & jazz blow in the evening.

Stella in their absence has given new meaning to the phrase and song "like a bat out of hell".
Items broken thus far - 3 (including a Cook's Cottage tea cup)
Number of other cats stalked & terrorised - 3 (Omar, Olive and Misha)... plus 2 fish
Resting safe in the knowledge that her stay is only a temporary one - The shining beacon on the hill
Specialist equipment required - a pair of goshawker buckskin tanned gloves from The Falconer's Emporium and some shin guards

Glued back together again.

We have a bobcat on our hands, not that this photo does much to put across my case.

paisley prince charming

PSST. We're in Vogue Living (Australia), May/June issue. A hammer & daisy pink paisley covered A4 journal of ours, available at Iris & Hazel, makes its way onto page 34. Can you see it? Bottom left corner, stand back and squint your peppers, or better still - grab a copy for a leaf through.

cinco sentidos viernes

5 senses friday once again...

SIGHT:
Selecting favourite trees, after a long breakfast at the Conservatory, as we meander up the garden path at the Royal Botanical Gardens.

The tantalising sight of an as yet unread magazine.

The sliding doors through to Customs opening up and swallowing my parents. Dad waving his hanky - his trademark customary send-off - as he walks through.

A favourite?

What about this one?

SOUND:
Marko Haavisto & Poutahaukat's track Paha Vaanii and Thunder And Lightning from the soundtrack to The Man Without a Past, still, after all this time, on high rotation on the stereo and ipod.

Hearing the Bell Birds sing their song. Accompanied by the sound of Wilbur's little claws scampering on the deck.

You’re the cream in my coffee, 
You’re the salt in my stew 
You will always be my necessity, 
I'd be lost without you.

You’re the starch in my collar, 
You’re the lace in my shoe... as sung by Ruth Etting going around and around in my head, from morning till night and back again. Interrupted only briefly by a hiss from Stella.

Two little Bell Birds sitting in the tree.

A spot of yellow.

TOUCH:
Why it has to be the smooth, smooth ends of a new haircut... nothing comes close. If only my hairdresser could miraculously appear every morning and set to work transforming 'blah' into the complete opposite. And, if only the cats could bring me my first coffee in the morning with the papers tucked under their arm, sweetly easing me from a state of slumber to wide eyed & bushy tailed.

The feel of the carpet underneath my palms as I slowly attempt a handstand in yoga that is not against the wall.

The feeling of elation as I pop up into the bridge pose, head dangling, looking at the room upside-down.

Olive & I.

What are you looking at?

SMELL:
Sea air at Middle Park beach, strolling along taking turns to walk Wilbur.

The aroma of dried fish on my hands after 'treating' the cats. Misha, like a grizzly bear, likes to bite the heads off and cast them aside, the way bears do with salmon. Olive likes to chomp down on hers and give them a good solid chew, and Stella likes to lick hers from the comfort of her snooza. We've managed to coax her out of her bathroom cabin and onto the tool bench. From there she can look out at the garden, hissing at anything that moves, plotting her revenge and mapping out the return journey HOME.

TASTE:
Crunching my way through a couple of fuji apples whilst watching the Mrs. Bradley Mysteries with Diana Rigg as the 1920's detective with her sidekick chauffeur George Moody.

Enjoying a Pascal lolly from the hairdresser on the walk home.

The big fat lump in my throat saying good-bye to my folks at the airport... to my throat it didn't seem to matter that they'd be home soon. Apparently my eyes where also from the same school of thought.

And of course, EASTER CHOCOLATE, still.

haircuts & lonely mushrooms

Strolling through the Fern Gully... Dad, Wilbur & I, and Mary in the distance.

An unintended and surprisingly literal version of Gomez's Cousin Itt from The Addams Family fame I have become of late... I am in dire need of a haircut before the transformation is complete. What was once a fringe could now easily double as a neck scarf, well perhaps not, but it certainly keeps my ears warm on a chilly morning. So, it's off to the hairdressers for me - yay - for a wash & snip & groom.

My parents who don't in anyway resemble any of the cast from The Addams Family, have made it safely to N.O's... after leaving Melbourne airport at a little after 11am on Tuesday they arrived at New Orleans Louis Armstrong airport at a little after 3pm (our time) the following day - a tad weary, very hot and in need of a shower. So far, Dad has forgotten to pack his sunnies (big round tortoiseshell ones I used to wear in the early 90's... or was it late 80's) and - gasp - his toothbrush! So, they are wandering about the streets of the French Quarter with only one toothbrush between them. Perhaps we do pass as extended family members of The Addams Family after all? Unkempt locks over here and snaggle toothed over there.

They have yet to swing by Cafe du Monde for a hot serve of dusty beignets with the pigeons or the Croissant d'Or for a couple of cafe au laits... or to visit their friends at the Music Factory to mark a few things off their expansive music "to buy" lists.

In their absence, we're minding Stella, a growly little British Blue meets Russian Blue meets Thing (again from the countlessly mentioned Addams Family TV series). "Thing would appear out of ubiquitous boxes or other convenient containers throughout the house", just as Stella is doing now. Hiding up on top of the towels piled inside the cupboard seems to be her current container of fancy. So far, she has yet to venture out from her safe haven that is the damp bathroom, where we've set her up with her snooza, toys and other cat essentials. Whenever we open the door much hissing ensues. According to the world of Stella, it wasn't just the toothbrush and sunglasses that they forgot to pack. Whilst my folks settle in to their rented apartment on Ursulines Street, Stella has been forced to slum it in our bathroom quarters (according to her). Unsure of the size of our local feline population, both inside and out, she has yet to venture out, preferring to adjust slowly to her much put upon predicament in privacy, thank-you very much.

Later tonight I will try to coax her out with dried fish treats... and my new coiffure.

One lonely little mushroom.

{5 tag}

Over Easter we...
Minded LJ's parent's dog Wilbur for the day and took him to the Royal Botanical Gardens for a lazy Sunday breaky with M & D, M & M and Little R, and an amble through the greenery, brushing our trouser cuffs against the herbaceous border.

Grappling with the lead.

Wilbur the salty sea dog.

Before heading to the beach for a meander along the pier with the fishermen and their hooks and buckets of small minnows by their plastic tubs of bait, and running along the sand with/at the seagulls.

A cautious, sandy paw in the waves before making a hasty retreat.

White Paw creations.

We also...
Headed to the Comedy Festival for CS's b'day celebration to see Daniel Kitson, who doesn't like dangly earrings - of which both CM and I were sporting a pair.

Took my folks to the airport for their trip to New Orleans for Jazz Fest. Filling in their green forms over coffee and thankful for a pair of extra dark glasses as we made our way back to the car.

And, finally... I've been tagged by Amy of posy press - WOO HOO! So too has Louise...

Five minutes to yourself: how would you spend them, ideally?
Intending to read in a warm, sunny spot in the backgarden and watching the birds instead.

Five bucks to spend right now; how would you spend it?
If I couldn't put it towards the gold owl ring previously drooled over, I'd always spend my last fiver on a real coffee, made by someone else.

Five items in your house you could part with, right now, that you hadn’t thought of already?
The bag of odds & ends that are awaiting a trip to the Brotherhood Bin.
All the pretty much empty bottles of moisturiser.
The large black pot down the side of the house I always intended to plant more herbs in.
Last weeks newspapers... and the week before that... and the week before that.
All the threadbare, baggy, indecent pyjama bottoms that wouldn't even do as cleaning rags.

Five items you absolutely, positively could never part with in your house?
Drawings and cards from friends.
Anything with a spine in our little abode - books, novels, catalogues, photo albums, journals - replaceable or otherwise.
My cats (they too have spines... and rather flexible ones).
My neighbours cats (also with spines).
My memories.

Five words you love? (Only five you say? This will be hard...)
Dawdle.
Drawn.
Quiver.
Hello.
Hug.

Psst, pass it on... consider yourself tagged: abby trys again, windowsill, cedar seven, green girl art, aunty cookie... (and pasadena mansions, in three weeks time).

easter owls, squirrels & bunnies

I don't want cheese.
I don't want toast.
I don't need jam
and I don't need new socks.
All I really, really, really want is this Gerard Tully 18ct gold owl ring with black diamond eyes by jeweller Ryan Kearney.

Oh, and a squirrel one for LJ too.

Perhaps if I gnaw my way carefully around my delightful chocolate owl from M & D, I'll be able to fashion a (temporary) makeshift one.

Happy Easter Sunday!

cinq sens vendredi

Once again it's five senses friday at the tail end of the day, which being Good Friday will no doubt have a distinctly Eastery tinge to it. So, here goes...

SMELL.
Arriving at my parent's place for a Good Friday home-cooked feast... greeted by the welcoming smell of onions simmering on the stove in readiness for fish pie. The strong and wonderful aroma wafting down the hallway, slapping us in the face with its presence and making our tummies rumble in anticipation.

FEEL.
Rolling the dough out for the base of a Bakewell Tart and the lid of a fish pie, feeling all my arm muscles singing out as I do so.

Cutting out a rabbit shape from the remaining dough to make a pair of merry rabbits to decorate the pastry top of the afore mentioned poisson pie. Rolling and sculpting little flat discs for eyes and cotton tails, pressing them down onto the roof and pasting them with egg.

SIGHT.
The very sight of me helping out in the kitchen... watching my dough flatten out into a triangle shape on the marble instead of a circle. Breaking bits off and patching it all together again in order to achieve a decent circle shape, all the while realising I'm not in anyway a natural in this arena (See more doughy evidence here).

SOUND.
The 'pop' of a newly opened raspberry jam jar for the Bakewell Tart.

The crisp sound of Dad's Chinotto bottle opening.

The soft sound of shuffling playing cards in my hand. Followed by the sound of defeat (mine) - much vocal, exaggerated wailing and foot stomping (again mine).

TASTE.
(After a lull in this sensory field last week, TASTE hit with full might this week.)
Enjoying the fruits of our collective labour as we sat down to a 3 o'clock lunch of a fish pie fittingly or not fittingly depending on your personal taste and beliefs, with two small, plump pastry rabbits, a vermicelli stir fry, a Bakewell Tart and chocolate pudding concocted from scratch. All of which momentarily rendering us incapable of speech - such indulgence! Every morsel savoured...

And, rolling along with the food theme, it's the long weekend of Easter after all... sharing a strawberry crepe four ways with LJ and her folks at their local pizza joint the previous night.

Roll on Easter Sunday, quite literally...

miss twitch & friends

An extended session of Parliament... fourteen new owls have taken up digs at our hammer & daisy online store. Fly across and meet Miss Twitch, Otto, Williamina, Wally, Squeeker and co before Madame Olive claims them all for herself.

Here she is guarding her collection of feathered friends. She's none too keen to part with any of them, after-all they're in her domain in the rose walled bookbinding room.

A longer post tomorrow, with 5 senses friday and maybe a little something extra too.

a pirate's parrot

Dendrites from Solnhoffen, Germany (Wunderkammer).

The Cats & I.

Lately I've been enjoying -
Re-watching The Gleaners & I by Agnès Varda (you can read an old ABC interview here) on TV - collections of heart shaped spuds, a retired Russian bricklayer with his totems of sourced rubbish, a clock face without hands, boars like grapes, picking harvest remains and sourcing food after the market has been. It has me thinking about what I glean? How about you? Followed by The Gleaners and I: Two Years Later (2002) which included a button gleaner who had a collection of buttons which would make wonderful eyes for our owls.

Watching Omar watch the telly too... for a fleeting moment only.

Enjoying both the Chocolate Mousse and Creme Brulee at friends P & L's for dessert... because I couldn't decide which one I preferred.

Trying to wrap lettuce around a spring-roll at dinner at a local Vietnamese Restaurant in Footscray with LJ's Gram.

I've also enjoyed drawing more funny looking mice. Creating a little world I can move easily around in. And, revisiting and rereading Penelope Lively A House Unlocked. "The house as i knew it exists now only in my mind. I can walk through the front door into the vestibule, and from there into the hall. Ahead of me, the garden door frames a green section of Somerset...". AND still, taking my time with Jeeves & Wooster, soaking up my favourite sentences.

I enjoy opening the front door when I wake to collect the snail mail or paper to find several local cats on my doorstep - three ginger (two being a mother & son), a black one and a senior grey-like-the-pavement one. They try to slip past me to gain entry or hop on my shoulder like a pirate's parrot, Carpatina in particular.

I enjoy this same process in reverse when I come home, Omar pawing at the door and Olive at the window, waiting for me.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5 little senses

It's early Friday evening, time once more to polish the tarnished silver and see what lies underneath... what kind of sensory week has it been for Shari's cinque sensi venerdì... 5 senses friday...

Each time I sit down to pen my little collection together, one of the merry quintet escapes all memory completely. This week I couldn't remember 'taste'. "Hang on, what's that other one, I've got see/sight, feel/touch, hear, smell... what one am I missing?"... each time it's a different sense, though never sight nor sound - that pair seem quite entrenched in their place. So, lets see what we have, this week has sped by so quickly, with a heap to do but a niggling head cold somewhat defiantly saying "Nah, do it later. Lie about on the floor by the heater for a bit longer". Downing countless honey & lemon drinks and rendering single tissues freshly plucked from the box 'done & dusted' within seconds, it's been an interesting sensory week.

So to kick things off, lets start with TASTE.
The smooth, warm taste of those lemon & honey drinks. I've had just enough to "soothe the throat" but not too many to displease my dentist. "No sticky hot treats for you, they'll rot your teeth". (Rereading this, I must stress that I have in-fact a very nice dentist, who has serviced my teeth since I was in single figures. He takes care of the whole family and does not sound at all like the father to Willie Wonka in the recent remake of Charlie & the Chocolate Factory. He did however warn me not to consume any sticky hot treats).

They tasted especially good as each one came in Louise's bird teacup.

SIGHT.
Seeing Louise 'draw' little owl faces with a needle & thread. (There are plenty more on the way... one looks like a Winston, another looks rather like a Hank at this stage, and two have little hearts sewn on their bellies).

Finding more mice on the page... this time they've evolved and they come sporting whiskers!

Watching Omar curl around the salt crystal lamp in the hallway for warmth. Before once more transforming the keyboard setting to Estonian as he clomps past. With a nifty little slip of the black paw my apostrophe is transformed into an 'ä'... I've no idea how he manages to find the same keyboard shortcut every single time. Perhaps if I kept typing in Estonian I'd understand what he is trying to tell me. So far, I can only presume it's something along the lines of "feed me, feed me NOW".

TOUCH.
Autumn is well and truly here and the cool weather has me reaching for my striped footy socks when deep down I'd rather be barefoot.

The last of the afternoon sun on my back, sitting in a Degraves Street cafe, catching up with our pal GC before she heads overseas.

Collecting my rings from the silver cat each morning. It reminds me of the story of the Princess of the Royal House of Siam who used her cat's tail as a ring-stand while she bathed... the little kink in the tail preventing the rings from falling off.

SOUND.
Favourite sounds this past week... the silent shuffle of my sandals as I walk down the street. I could never wear noisy shoes that 'click, clack' with every step. I think I'd end up walking really quickly to escape the sound of my own footsteps. Am I alone in this particular foible?
(A little detour: The bridge to Asgard, according to Norse legend, was constructed out of many things including the sound a cat makes when walking.)

SMELL.
No smells - too sniffly... And now I must shuffle back to my perch on the studio floor to cut up fabric for new journal covers.