This morning was cold.
Windy and brisk.
But not quite brisk enough to see me lose the thongs today. I'm not a shoe lover, me. And it takes quite a decent amount of chill to see me don them. It's one of the things I'm grateful for about Australian Winters up here. Perfect for the casual non fuss don't hole me in kinda gal.
But aside, after morning school drop off today, and still flapping around in the flip flops, I found myself heading out as usual with a steaming fresh brew and a recipe book under my arm to my new *perch* in the garden. I'm starting to feel like there's something missing if I haven't ritually *taken my tea* in the garden before I really start my day you know? It's like that deep breath, splash your face with cold water awakening... and sometimes steadying.
On cold mornings like this I find myself coaxed further from my usual stoop to follow the sun which touches now in its warmest giving on the steps of the cubby house at the very back of the garden.
From this warmest of high posts I can look down on the garden and still plan my doings... and plantings and pickings of course.... and chat to the girls right next to me as I sip, while the hot steam condenses on my nose and the sun seems to magically fix itself to my skin all the way through those layers of clothes.
The plan today was to finish an assignment I should be working on straight after the last drip of my tea. But as I sat drifting in that intoxicated blissful sunned state, my vague scrutiny of the edible greens passing before my eyes, the heavy enduring line of chokos across my fence caught my attention again...and again. After all it was recipes of preserves I had that favourite of all recipe books under my arm for... though just not exactly for today.
But alas procrastination wins out again...
or maybe it's the need to not let any of my gardens yields go to waste?
Either way that assignment was (somewhat guiltily) put on the burner for tomorrow.
So with warmed toes and a tea filled belly I headed back indoors for a spell, my jumper quickly converted to a carryall and sinking from the weight of freshly picked fruit to boil jars and bubble chutney over the stove instead.
Well at least I'm a productive procrastinator.