I've been awake and up since just before 6am after getting to bed just on the downside of midnight ... and I'm not complaining. Not by a long shot. Not this little black duck!
You see, I've been a dreadful sleeper all my life. I couldn't tell you the number of nights spent tossing and turning trying to drop off. The countless times I've watched the same DVD through closed eyelids three times, drifting in and out. Never quite getting into deep enough sleep to actually ever wake up feeling rested.
The nights where I've just given up, snapped on the light, and read a whole novel between midnight and dawn.
Not any more
instead of torturing myself, I can just get up, make a cuppa, heat a bottle and go commune with the goaty girls.
This morning, after all that was taken care of, seeing it was already full light, I went for a bit of a wander up the top of the hill to try and track down the Tawny Frogmouth I've been hearing but couldn't quite zero in on it.
Very strange birds, Frogmouths.
They have this strange, almost subsonic, booming cry that you feel as much as hear, usually at dawn or dusk; an 'Oom-oom' that resonates behind the sinuses, and I find it really hard to tell exactly where it's coming from. Of course when I DO get close, the little beggars shut up, and do their impersonation of a dead branch. They're largely nocturnal to boot, so not easy to find. In fact pretty much the only way you'll see one is if you are actually looking straight at it as it starts to morph into a dead stick. Here's one I prepared earlier or rather two - there's a baby tucked in under Dad's breast feathers and if you click for large , you may be able to make him/her out: sorry about the fuzziness but it was
a] two summers ago with the old camera and
b] on about x7 zoom
Anyway, after my typically fruitless frogmouth foray, I collected some wood for the fire, talked to the goats some more, and offered some bread to the ducks from the other day who are still hanging around. They're not silly. Free food. A nice big dam for paddling in. Maybe they'll stay. In any case, after consultation with the local poultry guru Graham, who was here yesterday, I've tentatively named 'em Fred and George. It'd be better if George was Georgia, but Graham says no. He thinks they're both boys. Very BIG, very handsome boys with a glorious teal sheen that the photos haven't captured.
and in a lame attempt at a segue, we have yet another photo that I have to make excuses for:
the current knitting: a lace scarf for my aunt in beautiful italian angora [ Louisa Harding Kimono Angora Pure ]
You may remember that this is the aunt who turned 80 a couple of weeks ago, right? I'd bought her a largish rhododendron because she's very fond of her garden and has beautiful azaleas but then with David getting crook, we didn't make it down to Melbourne for THE PARTY. Large plants in pots aren't exactly the easiest thing to post, and Other Aunt suggested that Fay would probably prefer something I've made myself
of course she would ... and the fact that I now have a rhodie that will not survive up here is irrelevant ...
of course I can whip up something nice
in all that free time I have at the moment
I figure a nice, 'totally out of season seeing we're heading into summer' scarf won't take too long and the angora will still make it a special gift... right??? [ even though said aunt won't have a clue that I paid nearly $14 a ball for it ]
I'm using my Garter Lace Mittens pattern, [ free in the sidebar to the right ] because it looks good but I can do it with my brain in [almost] neutral.
cast on 38 stitches
and it's actually much more open and lacy than the photo appears and a very dark charcoal.
David's still in bed. I'm still in the jammies with a jacket over the top because I'm about to go feed Ruby again. Talk to you soon :]