Do Aussie schools still hold those old-fashioned fund raising tuck shops with the lollies (sweets) homemade by parents? Perhaps they don’t, as in retrospect the goodies on offer were all pure sugar. A BRIEF HISTORY A young man called Edmund Verney had a tuckbox prepared by his
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I think, at a child’s birth, if a mother could ask a fairy godmother to endow it with the most useful gift, that gift would be curiosity. Eleanor Roosevelt. What wise words; especially for future scientists….and writers! English crime novelist Ann Cleeves was asked what motivated her
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I once made a somewhat provocative statement on social media declaring Australia’s Foster Clarks custard powder to be superior to the UK Bird’s brand. It was absolutely true, but see that flag on the British product? I should have known I was stirring up a cauldron
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You can never have too many paths within a garden, either. I love to have them winding everywhere. If my husband says I should get rid of one for some pragmatic reason I say ….. definitely not! Edna Walling, the Australian garden designer, once said that if your paths are
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I have a great fascination for social history, and for our native, satin bowerbirds. Yes, there is a strong link between the two. When the adult blue/black male bowerbirds or the green juvenile ‘apprentices’ build their bowers they decorate them with anything blue they can find. For
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As a Baby Boomer I grew up with little exposure to Australian literature. It was all English boarding school stories, Enid Blyton and Charles Dickens. My early knowledge of poets was limited to those represented in a primary school textbook called (appropriately in my case) Poems for
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CRIMSON ROSELLAS Crimson rosellas are a joy to behold. Many of the trees and shrubs in my Blue Mountains garden have been planted with these beautiful birds in mind. Top of the list? The native correas. The photo below shows that my efforts are appreciated! The rosellas love
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My first encounter with an Australian White Headed Pigeon was rather disconcerting. There is a skylight over my bed and I woke one morning to find one peering down at me. They are often called Baldy Pigeons, which seems rather unkind. Since then I have become aware
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There is a reason why the Blue Mountains village of Blackheath is affectionately dubbed Bleakheath. Recently someone (not mentioning any names, Kim) asked me to write a winter post. So here it is. My husband often has to venture out with the kettle to defrost the bird baths.
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For many years a retired grazier from Forbes, Mr James Smart Leslie, had a holiday home in the Blue Mountains at Blackheath. He named it Balquhain, after an ancestral property in Scotland. When WWI broke out, Mr Leslie and his wife Elizabeth (Betsy) were anxious to help.
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