Folksy Fox

[folksyfox]

I’ve moved!

Just a little note to let you know that I have now moved to parchmentsea.wordpress.com

[folksyfox]

Getting back to vlogging... finally!

Two books for you today. Both Australian, each VERY different. Our Sunshine by Robert Drewe and Carrie’s Song by Bronwyn Blake.

Let me know what you think or if you have any suggestions for books you’d like me to review.

[folksyfox]

[folksyfox]

Why didn’t someone tell me that “being smart” Would rip me apart

When I was in year 12, And I started tap-tap-tapping, always Taptaptapping Taptaptapping A beat on my knee, To drown out the voices that kept on saying If you try hard enough If you avoid sleep long enough You won’t get a B No one told me That “being smart” was ripping me apart

No one told me that on the day marks were released I would rub the skin off my hands with worry No one told me that I would cry For 2 days When a 93 wasn’t good enough No one told me that I would make Insomnia look like a game When a paper was due Because I can’t find the words For what I need to say Let alone get the referencing right

And you are not your marks they say So why does it cut me to the quick when I see them written down And I don’t feel worthy Because if education is about opening your mind And if school is about widening your world Then why do the numbers on the page Look so damn narrow But don't tell me that I am not my marks Because some of the time Too much of the time They're the only validation I get

And I know it's better to be loved for your  mind, Not your body. But a mind can be a burden. You are smart they say As a consolation prize for not being Pretty or funny or entertainment enough for them You are too smart they say Too smart for your own good When I complain about the state of our country Or when I am frustrated by something I can’t fix You are smart, they say And mean a million different things That they can’t understand what I’m saying When I am trying to communicate With articulations that are too cryptic You are smart they say

And when you define yourself By what you know And you’re known for being The smart girl Who sits in the corner And reads And reads And reads The intelligent girl Who just seems to glide right through Even thoug they don’t see the long nights Slaving over a blank screen And the wrinkles in my forehead From trying so hard to understand

When you define yourself by what you know It tears you apart from the insides To realise that you’re smart enough To understand That there is so much you will never know But that when you do It’s amazing Because don’t think that this poem Means that I have forgotten the joy of knowledge

Don’t think that I have forgotten That neutron stars can spin At 600 rotations per second and That understanding black holes Makes the night sky more beautiful Don’t think that I have forgotten That I could use my 97 thousand kilometres Of blood vessels to circumnavigate the globe Two and a half times But I will never be able to see That human skin is bioluminescent Don’t think that I have forgotten That words sound magical when You can say them in three different languages And that I can explain Baudrillard With pumpkin spice lattes

Don’t think that I have forgotten That I want to spend my life Sharing all these amazing things With another generation of learners Who will love the world just as much as me

Just remember that I am the product of a system That has taught me That knowledge is power And education is worth But that you can never stop working Never stop competing Never stop listening To the whispers that say You are better than this You have a category to live up to And a 93 is not good enough for the club

So why did someone tell me that “being smart” Would rip me apart

[folksyfox]

she wears envy like a crown

[folksyfox]

Write More Wednesday: Winter Winds

The cold air hits me as I make my way up the path towards the churchyard. I can feel the steady, solid pace of my boots like a metronome, aiding my descent into a quiet meditation. I take my time. My mind in that misty state of half awareness where thoughts aren’t coherent and don’t equate to anything of real importance. I’ve been this way for so long. I can’t remember where the air ends and my thoughts begin; it’s the only way my mind works.

The day is familiar. It’s the day that comes once a year, every year, and reminds me of what must be done. It greets me like an old friend, the kind you must be polite to, despite dreading the meeting.

The sun is out but it gives no warmth and the sky is blue and solid like the sheet I used to pull over my head as a child. It’s that kind of cold that is half caused by the wind and half by the actual temperature. The wind stops you in your tracks like a wall. It rubs your face until it goes bright red and freezes your fingers to stone. Then the cold begins to penetrate your layers of clothing, slips in through the crack between your jacket and your scarf, wraps around your neck like icy tendrils and makes its way through every fibre and thread before it reaches the warm surface of your skin. The harsh wind grabs at the ends of your sleeves, at the bottom of your jeans and at every strand of your hair. It pulls them back to lash against you like whips. I remember how it feels.

I see no one in the courtyard, and the only sound is the whisper of the wind through the grass and the trees. I could turn around and float away, like the petals of flowers caught in a draught, slowly dissolving and disappearing. I could let things be and move on. I don’t want to let go just yet though, I want to remember first. I want to try and feel just one more time.

The stone monuments are quiet and peaceful, the same way they always were. They are solid and real, impenetrable and forever. They are exactly what I am not, and exactly what I wish to be. I stare at them for a long time. Or it could have been a very short time. Suddenly I hear laughter, a short burst of warmth in the frozen air. I follow the sound and find myself retracing steps, taking a path I am accustomed to, towards a small block of marble whose curves and angles I know too well.

There is a woman kneeling in front of the headstone with a bunch of bright red flowers and a small child in her arms. The child is radiant and blooming, with rose lips, cornflower eyes and wheat-yellow hair, casting light on everything around it. I smile at the child and it laughs and reaches its arms towards me, but I stay at a distance. The woman is beautiful as well, but she blends into the scenery around her just as I do. Her countenance is sorrowful and dark with large deep eyes that break my heart each and every time.

I move towards the two and brush my hand through the woman’s hair. She looks around as if someone has called her name from a distance or as if the wind has tugged a little too much at her locks. I feel a stab of pain.

The child’s laughter rings again like bells and a bird sings somewhere in a far off tree. The toddler grabs at the flowers in its mother’s hands and puts them against the marble before smiling at me again. A rush of warmth starts in my toes and works its way up my body in waves; it is a warm blanket or the rays of the sun as it creeps over the horizon at dawn. The child claps and I grin. I can feel something like happiness, something like relief, something like harmony. I can feel.

A bird chirps again and the sun seems to appear once more as if from behind a cloud. The wind ceases to whip the woman’s hair around her face and becomes a gentle hand against her cheek. I know I must say goodbye to my old friend and greet a new one.

“Come in the spring,” I say. “It’s much nicer.”

The woman looks up and stares right at me. A look of peace passes across her face and she smiles, bright as the flowers that lie upon her husband’s grave. A gust blows and the child cries and reaches out towards a spot in the grass where a man made of wind once stood.

[folksyfox]

Write More Wednesday: Free Write

The paper fluttered through the air, its wings caught up in seconds by the current. The north wind carried it and lifted it ever higher, towards the open sky. The paper climbed above trees painted in orange and brown, vibrant against the dull grey buildings, reaching towards the pale blue atmosphere above.

Claude watched with misty eyes as the inked letters got smaller and smaller, now completely unreadable. He wished that he could float on the wind like that, to grow tiny in the sky as he rose into the heavens and became a speck of white before disappearing forever.

But, although his skin was white as a sheet and paper thin, Claude was flesh and blood, a child of dirt and stone. He could fly no more than the ugly goose with the broken wing that swam across the lonely lake in the depths of winter. He was earthward bound forever, even in death.

[folksyfox]

10 Holiday Party Cocktails

The true heart of the holiday season is getting close, and I don’t know about you, but my calendar is looked pretty packed! With Christmas, New Years and my birthday all packed into 2 weeks of hard core shopping, organising, event planning and attending, I won’t be turning down a drink when it’s offered. Especially if it’s one of these!

1. Rosemary Gin Fizz

Holiday season in Australia falls in summer, so a party cocktail that’s light and refreshing is the best thing! With rosemary and lemon juice for a bit of a kick, Joanna (from A Cup of Jo) isn’t wrong in calling this ‘the best party cocktail you’ll ever have’.

2. Strawberry Lemonade Vodka

Strawberry and lemons? The perfect balance of sweet and tart! And really, it’s hard to go wrong with vodka. And this drink is super quick to whip up as well (as long as you have a food processor or something similar).

3. Moët Imperial Gatsby

The Great Gatsby craze might be pretty much over, but I can’t say ‘no’ to a good old 1920’s throwback. This cocktail is inspired by the classic Champagne Cocktail and Gatsby’s green light.

4. Raspberry Basil Mojito

I’ve been a huge fan of mojitos ever since a friend’s father served me one when I was about 19. Elsie from A Beautiful Mess shows us how to make this beautiful herb and fruit infused version. And once you’ve got the simple syrup, it’s so easy to make!

5. Watermelon Cucumber Cooler

At this point, you may be feeling like there are too many pinkish cocktails. My answer for you is that there is no such thing as too much pink! Well, okay, maybe there is. But we haven’t reached that point yet. And this Martha Stewart cocktail is perfect for summer.

6. Cucumber Lemonade with Gin

Elise hits the nail on the head again with this super refreshing combination of cucumber and gin with a tart hit of lemon. Wonderful for mixing up a big pitcher and sitting out in the backyard with friends. Or, you know, you can drink it by yourself too.

7. Blackberry Bourbon Lemonade

This is not a combination of alcohol and mixer that I thought would go together at all. Bake Your Day notes that “Even if you aren’t a fan of Bourbon, this drink will make you a believer,” and if, like me, you are a fan of Bourbon, this drink will make you an obsessed fanatic.

8. Riesling Strawberry Slushies

These fruity frozen cocktails are just the ticket for hot summer days out in the backyard next to the BBQ. And they’re super fun to eat with a straw!

9. Spiced Apple Cider Champagne Cocktail

If, like me, you’re stuck in the heat of a southern hemisphere holiday season and wishing for a White Christmas, then this spiced cider cocktail will give you a taste. The only trouble might be getting that Tennessee cider… I’m still looking.

10. French Pear Martini

I know what I’ll be making at my New Years’/Birthday Bash! This vodka martini with a twist is the perfect way to ring in the New Year and impress all your guests.

[folksyfox]

Important note about this piece - it's writing, and is not necessarily relevant to my current state of mind.

[folksyfox]

[folksyfox]

Rewriting: Seolh Excerpt

I've been rewriting a couple of old short stories, hoping to bring them up to scratch (maybe for publication, mostly just for fun). This is an excerpt from Seolh, the second in a series of short stories I wrote inspired by Irish myths and legends. I'll hopefully be posting more rewrites over the next couple of weeks.

She called for me to hurry and I kicked my shoes off, running in bare feet to catch up to her.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Nora looked up at me with wonder in her eyes. “Bet you’ve never seen anything like it.”

I frowned at her, perplexed, and scanned my eyes across the beach landscape. The rolling clouds that covered the sky dissipated into the ocean as they reached the horizon. The rough waves broke into white, frothy foam on the pale sand.  The flat sand turned into dunes which then became covered in green and morphed into the hills that formed most of the island. Further west, the dunes stopped where the land veered towards the sky in rocky cliff-faces.

“Yeah… it’s nice, I suppose, but I’ve seen beaches before, Nora. We live in Ireland.”

Nora’s confusion mirrored my own a moment before she looked back at the sea.

“It’s beautiful, though. It’s always different no matter how many times you see it.” She looked at me with a smile. “I used to watch the seals off the coast here all the time. They seemed so graceful. I always wished that I could join them in the water, escape from everything. To be powerful and strong…”

Her voice trailed off into a whisper. A strange ethereal quality hung the air. We stood in silence for an unknown amount of time. She had her arms wrapped around herself and I stood with my hands in my jacket pockets.

After a while, I pulled my gaze away from the rocking ocean and glanced at Nora.

There was something in her eyes as she looked at the waves crashing against the beach. There was a longing in her look that I had never seen before, memory and sadness entwined. There was something else too… something animalistic and alien.

It scared me.

“I’m, uh, I’m going to go back up to the house and start dinner, right?” I glanced uncomfortably at Nora, something I hadn’t done since we’d first met.

“Mm hmm…” She didn’t turn to face me, just nodded slightly as she stared out to sea with that strange smile that I had seen before, looking to all the world like she was slowly drifting away from me into the foam. I walked back up the beach with a daunting feeling of distance.

[folksyfox]

11 Adorable DIYs to Get You Springing into Spring

Springtime is finally hitting us in the southern hemisphere and there’s so many cute DIYs to be done! Here’s a couple of my favourites:

1. Brighten up your bike handles with streamers

One of the things I miss the most about Tucson is being able to bike to and from the university. If I still had my bike, I’d be doing this immediately!

2. Wrap up your electrical cords in bright thread

Use one colour or lots of colours – this is the perfect way to add a little interest to a desk corner or to clean up your cords. Get wrapping!

3. Or use that thread for your hangers

Not that my wardrobe needs any more bright colours, but Brit + Co's tutorial is a great way to make sure your clothes don’t fall off their hangers!

4. Make balloons even more fun with floral garlands

I’m definitely planning on having a get together this spring (probably a tea party!) and this tip for wrapping your balloons with garlands is the perfect touch.

5 & 6. Wear a tiny flower pot while sipping cocktails off mossy coasters

Sincerely Kinsey has not one, but two, amazing DIYs for spring! The flower pot necklace is delightful and those coasters are another cute decoration for that tea party.

7. Make this adorable Paper Boat clutch

This DIY is a little more involved than some of the options on this list, but it’s totally worth it. And so on trend for summer nautical styling! Going on my list for sure.

8. Add an print to some otherwise boring boxes

Anyone who knows me at all knows how much I love any DIY with an eye for organisation. These painted fabric boxes are the best idea for storing little bits and bobs.

9. Plant some flowers in bright planters

Now, I don’t have much of a green thumb, but if I did these are what I’d be planting flowers in.

10. Or use the flowers in popsicles

… as long as they’re edible that is! These might have to wait until it’s a little bit warmer, but they’re a fun and surprising treat.

11. Whip up a simple burlap bag

Perfect for picking up fresh flowers at spring markets! And it’s the perfect way to display them as well – a lovely mix of pretty flowers and natural hessian. Find out how here.

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Hopefully some of these DIYs inspire you to add a little bit more colour and nature to your life as the weather warms up!

[folksyfox]

Yay! House tour, because apparently that's a thing.

Send me books to read and Versus challenges!

Like and subscribe :)

~~~

Music is 'Carefree' by Kevin Macleod and 'Palace Parade' by Decade in Exile.

[folksyfox]

Make It Monday: It's Over

Sometimes, probably more often than I should, I say “yes” to something that I know will cause me a lot of pain, stress and head exploding. I say “yes” to these things for many reasons: because I think it will be fun, because I want to do a favour for a friend, because I know it will be a fulfilling challenge. Every time I say “yes”, I am fighting that little voice in my head telling me “DON’T DO IT. THIS IS NOT GOOD FOR YOUR HEALTH.”

I do it anyway.

For the last month and a half, I have been working on one of these projects. Working on the props and costume for ‘Jurassic: That Is One Big Pile of Musical’ has been entertaining, challenging, frustrating, perplexing, hilarious, ridiculous, infuriating, satisfying and ever so rewarding. It has been a hard slog, full of late nights, many cups of tea and too much pizza and scotch fingers.

We finally finished last night, at about midnight, the night before the show opened. I was a physical and emotional wreck and I began to cry at least twice. I wanted to rip everyone’s head off, but when I was finally able to say, “we’re done”, it was the best feeling in the whole world. The feeling of accomplishment is overwhelming. And that’s why I say “yes” to things like this, even when I know how much they’re going to suck. Because nine times out of ten, I will come out of it forgetting about all my neuroses and perfectionist tendencies, all my yelling and crying and frustrated wailing, all my nightmares about never-ending chicken wire and thread, and instead I will be left with the sensationally paradoxical numbness of a job well done.

Even when that part of that job well done is arguably the creation of a monster.

The show opens tonight at the New Theatre and I wish the cast and crew all the luck in the world for the first show and I can’t wait to see it all in action tomorrow.

If anyone ever needs help with building a human-size wearable T-Rex – don’t call me, because I will hang up on you.

[folksyfox]

Late video again! But I promise it wasn't my fault!

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Music is 'Call to Adventure' by Kevin Macleod (incompetech.com)

[folksyfox]

Easy Recipes for Non-Cookers - Roast Bread & Tomato Soup

Okay, so, here’s the thing – my best friend and I are opposites in a lot of ways. Case in point: I bake every chance I get and run a blog that has a regular food column; Ains doesn’t cook at all if she can get away with it.

So when her parents went away for a couple of weeks, I was kind of afraid she might die. Premade soups from Woolworths can only sustain you for so long. Luckily Woolworths is also on a bit of a Jamie Oliver kick at the moment, so when we organised to have a Merlin night, Ains found a recipe card for Tomato & Bread soup – delicious, warming and novice friendly. This Tuscan soup is wonderful – it's a soup everyone should try.

Pro-tip: the original recipe calls for ciabatta loaf, but we decided to use sourdough, which I think really made it. Anyway, onwards!

You’ll need:

½ a bulb of garlic

2 red onions

2kg ripe tomatoes

1 pinch of dried oregano

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

olive oil

1 litre organic vegetable stock

a few sprigs of fresh basil

1 x 280g ciabatta or sourdough loaf

red wine vinegar

extra virgin olive oil

Preheat the oven to 200°C/400°F. Break the garlic up into cloves and peel and cut the onions into 3cm wedges. Halve and lay the tomatoes in a large roasting tray, cut-side up, then scatter over the unpeeled garlic cloves and onion wedges. Sprinkle with oregano, season with salt and pepper, and drizzle with olive oil. Roast in the hot oven for 50 minutes to 1 hour, or until the tomatoes are soft and sticky.

Scrape everything from the tray into a large saucepan. Pick out the garlic cloves and squeeze the soft flesh into the pan, discarding the skins. Pour in the stock then roughly chop and add the basil stalks with most of the leaves. Cut the loaf in half and tear one half into the soup. Bring to the boil, then simmer for 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, put a griddle pan on a high heat. Slice the remaining loaf and griddle until lightly charred on both sides. Add a splash of red wine vinegar to the soup, then blitz with a hand blender until fairly smooth. Ladle into bowls, drizzle with extra-virgin olive oil and scatter with the remaining basil leaves. Serve with the slices of griddled ciabatta.

So easy! Ainsleigh was pretty proud of herself.

[folksyfox]

A.M.

It’s 5:45 in the morning and I’m up, looking out the window. The dawn is starting to break on the familiar hill above the farm. The sunlight is filtering through clouds and trees, onto a dew-covered pasture littered with cows and their calves.

The upstairs is a little cold, but I can smell the coffee and conversation coming from downstairs. I walk into the kitchen bleary-eyed to see my grandpa in his chair, drinking coffee while talking to grandma. She’s cooking eggs, bacon, and toast. I get brought into the conversation immediately, sitting on grandpa’s lap, telling him an important story about something only a seven year old (and, apparently, a 65 year old) would care about.

Days like that were made for my grandpa. On any given day, there could be any number of things on the agenda with a few constants. Maybe moving the cows to a new field, or feeding them hay. Probably cutting wood for the winter, especially in the waning days of summer or early fall. Or working on any number of barns, outbuildings, or house projects.

There were the constants of food at the farm: lunch at noon sharp, strawberry jam, fresh and canned homegrown vegetables, ice cream sandwiches in the freezer, finding hard candy in random shirt or jacket pockets, and slicing apples or eating oranges in the recliner in the living room.

There was a rotating cast of characters who came and went throughout the day. An uncle or aunt. Cousins — so many cousins. A neighbor dropping by. A friend, maybe from out of town. They were always welcome. Some of them were up for a farm adventure or just visiting, but it always came back to grandpa. And it always started with that coffee and laugh in the morning.