City House, Country House

It only takes a few weekends away in the country to get that sweet air into your lungs, enough to inspire me to sell up the rad inner city pad and purchase a run down wreck of a Federation palace with a wrap around verandah deep within the bush, living off the fat o’ the land and collecting eggs for my breakfast in the morning.

Oh the dreams.

Before Ali Webb from Melbourne there was Alison Murray from Yackandandah. A kid from the scrub who was raised on 10 or so acres, jumping into dams from the trampoline, helping mum bake bread, pod peas, collect eggs, shoo rabbits, water the orchard, feed the cow, milk the cow, pick the veggies for that night’s tea and so on. You could say we were self sufficient.

So when I called mum the other night to squeal with excitement about baking my own bread, she laughed. Of course she did, she’s been doing it for years.

But what a sense of achievement it is to make something for yourself. This week it was bread, pesto and hummus. All from scratch, every ingredient accounted for and the only numbers on the recipe was for quantities rather than preservatives.

While explaining this to mum in Beechworth over the long weekend, she got it straight away. “I could have told you all about this years ago, honey. But you wouldn’t have been interested,” she said. Mums are always right.

I’m sure I’m not the only person out there who has had a swift change in plans, craving the space and air of country living and that trendy little two words we keep hearing today: slow. down.

While a shift to the country might be a pipe dream at the moment, there’s no harm in treating our city house like a country house.

We’ve chocked up our vegie patch out the front with snow peas, broccoli, eggplant, chillis, herbs and more. We’ve got seeds from Diggers on their way. A blob of bread dough is slowly rising on the bench and this evening Alfie ate the last of the strawberries straight off the plant.

Yesterday I traded some fabric for wool with my neighbour and I’ve already commenced a little crocheted blanket for my friend’s babe.

Yes I know, all these things take time, but how nice is it to use your time making a lovely home for your family.  Insert smiley face.

It’s excellent.

I didn’t even swear once in this post. Perhaps all this country air has changed me.

Fuck,

Ali xx

My bread

Easter  Parade in Beechworth

Every country town must have a man with a cocky on his shoulder or a trolley full of ferrets

MY pesto and hummus smashed on Turkish bread

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