well hello there

I’ll be honest, I have no idea if I even remember how to post anything. It’s been so long in between postings that I don’t think people even call them ‘blogs’ anymore, I think they’ve morphed into online ‘journals’.

Do I even remember how to upload a photo?

Ah, like falling off a log. But more fun.

We’ve all gotten really good in the last three or so years at the micro-blog, the instagram moment, the quick Facebook summary. It can be a little superficial though, very one sided, and ultimately for me pretty unsatisfactory. The thing is, blogging used to be one of my favourite things to do. Of all. A nice combination of creative writing and journalling the busiest days, I loved the discipline of it, the scope, the conversations, the record. And I miss it.

Although I’ve been using the Inner Pickle recipe index as my personal online recipe source for years.

So much has happened.

There’s so much to tell you.

Shall we make a pot of tea?

And do you think I’ve filed even ONE photo in the last three years? Not a one. My filing sucks. It’s amazing we manage to run a small business at all, with the state of my filing.

We’ve been doing some planning for the future here, some decisions about the next few years, and when we thought about what the farm looks like in five years from now, all I can think of is that I’ll have one kid in her last year of primary school, one in his last year of high school, and one in year ten. Holy gazooly. It’s hard to be in the moment when the moments zip by in such a furious rush.

I’m sure it’s the same for you.

Well, it’s Wednesday. And the reason I’m sitting here at all is because I thought I might make a slice. I have half an hour, the prep for this weekend’s workshop is underway, Adam is at the Farmer’s Market for the afternoon, I’ve done a morning of admin and we’ll need afternoon tea. All those slices of Wednesdays, sitting in the recipe index here, looking edible. I thought I might quickly put together a passionfruit slice– I spied a tin of condensed milk in the pantry and there’s passionfruit on the vine outside. Shall we?

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