Spring, reminiscing, and the arts

I'm nothing if not predictable.

We've had a little burst of sunshine these last few days and it's been glorious.  After such a wet couple of months it's a real treat.  We've been putting in plenty of hours at the park.

Yup, we need some sheep in here pretty urgently

The birds are as pleased as the rest of us and the bird song is off the charts.  If you go for a walk around outside there's joyful twittering in the trees, bees zooming busily past (by the way, did you know they have actual big fat bumble bees here? I thought they were just in picture books!), the cat slinking through the grass, everyone knows what's coming.

It makes me want to throw open the windows, turn up some classical music on the radio, and fry something for lunch.  

Hard to say why exactly, except that some of my fondest childhood memories revolve around Mum's homemade veal schnitzels eaten outdoors in the mild spring/autumn sunshine, with Mozart's clarinet concerto drifting out the windows.  But really, who needs an excuse to fry food?

On the back of the wet weather, we've all been struck down one by one with a rotten cold.  First it was B (who never gets sick).  Then poor J who always seems to get knocked down the hardest by any virus.  She lost her voice and coughed and coughed and coughed which led to several cough-vomits (if the name wasn't explanatory enough, that would be a coughing fit so violent that she vomits).  The washing, my friends.  It was biblical.  And hearing her sad squeaky little voice whimpering for me was almost more than I could bear.  Thankfully she's on the mend now, although still coughing and with an endlessly runny nose.

A predictably caught it a couple of days after J, and has done a couple of cough-vomits too (WHY UNIVERSE WHY), but she seems - cross fingers, jinx, I hate white rabbits - to have got over the worst without anywhere near the misery of poor little J.

I thought I'd avoided it but a couple of days ago I went down hard and today I have my own version of J's squeak, slightly less endearing though.  Mine's more adolescent male with sudden pitch changes taking me from falsetto to a gravelly growl with no warning.  Makes it very hard to effectively get my point across when arguing with the insurance company about our house in Perth.  Never mind.  I can still write a zinger of an email.

The Taranaki Arts Festival is on at the moment.  We're so lucky to have this kind of thing!  Coming from South Australia (the Festival State!  Do they still call it that?) I'm used to having lots of cultural events at my fingertips - whether or not I actually partake, it's great to have the option.  I grew up with my parents regularly taking me and my sister to concerts and the theatre.  Another very fond childhood memory is sitting in a darkening theatre, listening to the orchestra tuning up and feeling that sense of anticipation for the curtain to roll back.

So for me, it's great that Taranaki also has such a lively arts scene.

Last night as part of the Arts Festival there was a concert of Beethoven's sonatas for violin and piano.  Tickets were $10.50.  Yep.  That is not a typo.

Sadly I missed out on that one (see: cough-vomiting children) but big plans are afoot to leave the house after dark next Friday to catch Velvet, a cabaret/circus extravaganza.

B is working overtime at the moment, not at work, but on our vegetable garden.  With this burst of spring-like weather, it's time to get serious.  We don't even have a herb garden at the moment.  I'm not sure how to know when the last frost has been but I reckon we could just about risk chucking some things in within the next week or so.

We've already got peas and rhubarb which both seem to have survived the frosts but I'm dying to get some more things in.

I've missed our edible garden in Perth.  It was really productive when I think back.  All those passionfruit!  It's also just so nice to be able to step outside and collect ingredients for dinner.

I've been quietly amazed at how quickly the seasons change.  Listen, I'm sure we're in for some more wet blustery weather, but I never noticed before how it all changes over a matter of days.  Suddenly there are buds everywhere.  One of the pear trees is covered in blossoms.  Yesterday there were none.

I've always rolled my eyes a bit at people who talk about the wonder and joy of four defined seasons. I mean, whatever.  I have to admit, though, that now I sort of know what they're talking about.