Picture this

There are many times throughout the day when I stop and take a breath to delight in something lovely. I relish the mornings I can spring out of bed and enjoy a larger view of the spectacular natural setting I live in. Here is a reminiscence of some such morning.

I wake, and lie in the luxury of sheets cool from the night air listening to the early morning bird cacophony. The plaintive call of the partnerless Koel rings through our suburb along with the throaty warble of magpies and the mad screech of galahs and cockatoos. As I open my eyes the grey dim light of pre-dawn is presented to me. I draw the heavy blind to witness the sun arising over Black Mountain through the gum trees like a giant fluffy sunflower casting hits of gold on all it touches. Mt Ainslie is all purple orange with a halo of gold like the gilded gates over the entry to Versailles. Quick. Quick. Let’s get out before we miss the spectacle of the early sun streaming across sleeping Canberra.

To the top of the road the dog and I stroll, the footpath still cast in shadow, the air motionless and cool. I pull my cardigan tighter across my chest and marvel at the beauty of the morning light and then, behold - the Brindabellas - stretching purple grey before me, wrapping the wide horizon for a 180 degree panorama with the summer gold paddocks at their feet. Barely a dent they make into the view with the endless blue sky at their peaks. The mist in the valley is a mere whisper of the coolness of the night. At times the rays of the sun streak down through the mist across the paddocks creating ripples like waves in sand on the beach. The drops of dew lie heavily upon the seed laden green gold grasses overhung on the path we are yet to walk. The dew drips onto my feet and soaks the dog’s paws as we push on past. As we walk up the face of the hill a family of kangaroos and their young watch us motionless on the track ahead. Only their ears move at our approach. Finally, as we come almost close enough to touch, they bound without effort over the fence and into the paddock beyond. We continue our climb, the sun yet to reach this steep western face of the mountain.

We rise to the ridge of Mount Painter. The 360 degree view of Canberra stretches before us and showcases the colours and shapes of nature that give such delight and a true sense of place. Horizontal strands of the dwindling mist lie in the Murrumbidgee valley and across Lake Burley Griffin. A stiff breeze springs up – refreshing after the steep climb. The meccano set flag pole of Parliament House queerly peeps out from the mist which obscures the lake and surrounds from view; its stiff geometric form always a dominant sight in the Canberra sky. Four hot air balloons float across the lake - mere pinpricks in the vast pale blue space that surrounds them. I pause and take in the vista before me – I take a deep breath and relish this place, time and sense of peace I feel. The weekend may now begin.



A surprise crop of self sown sunflower, much diminshed now as the local parrots enjoy a feast several times a day

'Why don't you put some of them away?'  asks my husband, as we begin the morning ritual of noisily preparing coffee and juice to go with the day's breakfast selection. I was jamming a third open cookbook into my waiting holder preparing for the session in the kitchen today.

Much delight this week with the continuing supplementary dribble from the vegie garden to our diet. The Potimarron, golden globe Cinderella, pumpkin was destined for the pot. Half of it made a nearly, but not quite correctly spiced, pumpkin curry, courtesy Nigel Slater. Absolute delight to add garlic from my well produced crop harvested in December, an onion, from my small trial crop, and lemongrass, very borderline viable in Canberra.

Yesterday saw a flurry of activity in the kitchen after retiring inside due to inclement weather that crept into Canberra so gently, and by this morning had added to the very low level of my rainwater tank.

Blueberry, hazelnut and lemon zest muffins baked away happily whilst I prepared the mix for the cake containing the remains of the Potimarron pumpkin. The cake eventually came out of the oven, in for 20 minutes longer than expected; very wet mix. Mmmm. The smell was divine. Spicy, rich. I resisted temptation and wait an hour to slice into the dark coloured body of the cake. It is filled with the grated pumpkin, roasted pecans, raisins and fragrant spices. Yum.

The 2 punnets of fresh blueberries bought on special at Coles yesterday were bolstered with another 2 punnets enroute home from collecting my husband from work. These are destined for the pot for another small batch of jam.

Another inclement morning in Canberra will see a busy kitchen. Hope I remember to pick some corn for lunch today.