Snow Day!

Phillip took this.
He's the only consistently early riser in our family.

For the first time since I moved here, we had snow at our elevation. Snow that STUCK. About two beautiful white fluffy inches of it.

Apparently, it was the first time in ten years that its snowed all the way down to sea level.

Phillip had the day off work, and we dropped any sort of schedule we keep to just enjoy the rarity of the snow.

We started out by putting on boots and coats while we were still in our pyjamas, before breakfast, and ran around outside enjoying Simon's enthusiasm over seeing snow for the first time he can remember.

After breakfast, we bundled up and were outside right away again. We were outside as long as we could stand. Snowballs were thrown, snow was piled up, we practised running and sliding on it, and Phillip even made a little snowman. We enjoyed every moment outside until little fingers and even big toes were red and nearly too cold to feel anything.

Inside again, warm with our roaring fire, I made the boys some hot coco to warm up. Simon's first introduction to "hot choc".

It is REALLY coming down!

Even Ippo wanted to come out and play in the snow
Side note: This is a really awesome cat

We have no snow shovels. Simon made do.

The beginnings of a snowman

Simon's snowman.
Or snow-pile.

How many snowballs can you hold?

Phillip's finished snowman

Warmin' up with hot coco

Oh yeah, that's some good stuff!

Accidents Happen

We heat our house with a wood fire.

Like most of Tasmania.

This is our first year supplying our own wood. The last two winters we've gotten wood from Phillip's parents.  We figured it was about time we become real grown-up married people and buy our own. Also, we don't like to mooch (though I guess we did work for at least some of the wood we were given, helping split wood at his parents).

Load of wood being delivered

The cheapest way to get wood turns out to be just buying it as logs. Massive logs that you cut and split yourself. Which meant that Phillip got to buy himself a few new toys so he could accomplish this task (being that I was super pregnant, I was not going to help cut and split wood).

So, this past summer, not only did we buy about 15 cubic meters of wood, but Phillip got himself a sweet deal on an Echo chainsaw, and a beautiful splitting ax from Fiskars. He liked his new toys.

All summer, on days that weren't blisteringly hot, Phillip would use bits of spare time to cut through logs with his chainsaw, and then split them into manageable pieces for our fireplace. The wood was then to sit out in the sun and rain for a few weeks so that the sap could be washed out, then put in the shed to dry out so and we could have nice dry wood to burn this winter, unlike the past two winters where most of our wood has either been somewhat green or wet. Our (well, Phillip's) goal was to have it all done by the time the baby came. He came fairly close to accomplishing this goal, too.

Testing out his new chainsaw!

Nearly ALL the logs are cut and half of it split!

Unfortunately, things don't always work as we plan, and, on May 4th, while I was inside cleaning like the crazy pregnant woman I was, hoping I would go into labor at any moment, Phillip was outside splitting wood. Fifteen minutes in, Phillip walks into the house with a funny smile on his face.

"Boy, that was a short time splitting" I said. To which Phillip replied, "I cut myself." very calmly, and then showed me his thumb.

Apparently, while trying to dislodge the ax from a block, he managed to run the VERY sharp blade along the back of his right thumb. And, if you know Fiskars products, they're amazingly sharp (which you want. I love Fiskars. Really, I do).

Into the bathroom I dragged poor bleeding Phillip to clean and look at his thumb. It didn't stop bleeding. The second pressure was off it, it started to pour out blood again (maybe I'm being a bit dramatic with the pouring bit, but it was bleeding a LOT). So we decided to drive up town to get some more bandaids and MAYBE go to the hospital.

In the middle of this trip, my midwife, Jenny, called, to see how I was doing. I said something along the lines of, "Well, I'M fine, but we're trying to decide if we should take Phillip to the ER for some stitches..." Jenny also happens to be a nurse at a clinic, which she told us to come down to so she could take a look at Phillip, give him stitches if necessary, then take a look at me. (See why I love my midwife? And that's only one of many reasons...)

Turns out, Phillip needed three stitches. And a tetanus booster. And a note for a week off work. Thankfully, though, no tendons were cut.

At the clinic, waiting for his DPT shot post sutures

And by the time I went into labor his thumb was mostly healed so I didn't have to worry too much about busting open his stitches or hurting him more while I squeezed his hand.

Nearly all healed up, one more week to go with stitches in
(also, the least bad part of the cut goes nearly to the last thumb joint)

Unfortunately, the time Phillip had to rest his thumb to properly heal, which turned out to be about 4 weeks, and then taking on a lot of the household responsibilities because I had to sit for hours nursing a very hungry baby, as well as recover, has left us with wet wood again this year. We have a system of bringing wood in to dry by the fire so it isn't as sodden as it could be, but it still means that our fire isn't burning as hot as we'd like. Alas, not much we can do about it, and at least we've figured out ways of keeping warm without having the fire going hot. Things like, wool socks, and lots of blankets. Or, my dad's favorite, vacuuming (well, when one doesn't have to carry a baby around). 

I am... very behind in blogging. And emailing.

I'm sure I have plenty of legit excuses, but really, I'm mostly really lazy about those things lately. Also, somewhat addicted to Pintrest.... If you've never heard of it that's probably a good thing (I console myself with the knowledge that I have tried at least most of the recipes I have found through it).

But hmmm.... so many mildly interesting things have been happening lately.

Firstly, the family over the hill that employ my husband and are also fairly good friends of ours just had their ninth child! The second girl. She's a quiet little thing (at least the few times I've visited) and, well, like most babies I suppose. (Really I am SO downplaying this because I think she's adorable and even though her mother seems to think that when I hold her and put her to sleep it's some sort of pain for me to keep her that long, I could do it for hours. She's just precious. As with the rest of her siblings, I'm completely in love with her). Now that they've got a routine back in place, I'm back to going up Fridays to spend a short amount of "woman" time with mamma and then play with the kiddos while she rests. At the moment, we're reading Eight Cousins, which we started months ago before girl number 2 came along. I... persuaded them to choose that one because it was about a young girl with seven cousins, all boys, and I thought they might find it amusing. And while it might be more tuned to female readers, the boys seem to like it so far, too.

Secondly, the OLYMPICS! We don't have a television. And things like Hulu and most other internet-aired television shows only work in the U.S. And I really wanted to watch the Olympics this year. Phillip knew this months before we even got married, and I reminded him frequently that I wanted to watch them this whole year we have been married. Why did I want to watch, you might wonder? Well, it's the Olympics, and it seems you just kind of HAVE to watch something, at least in part, that only occurs every four years. Also, Michael Phelps. I love the swimming.

Well, Phillip found a way that we pay a small fee and get to connect to a U.K. server and watch the Olympics through the BBC online. Or something to that effect. We still haven't watched most of it live, because of the time difference, and when things have to buffer it's really annoying. But it's the Olympics. And I got to sit, with my Australian husband, and watch U.S. swimmers just cane Australian swimmers. (Neither of us is overly patriotic, but this little rivalry we get going while we watch has been kind of fun). And... I still haven't gotten fully caught up on the events I'd like to watch. It involves our downloads and them being used up and our internet speed dropping back down to basically dial-up. It's annoying and seems primitive to me, but oh well. I'll see Phelps kick major booty late, but at least I'll get to see it.

Also gymnastics and judo. Possibly track and field. And basketball. I've really missed basketball.

Then there is the weather. It's been.... cold. But then I read some novel that takes place during a Russian winter and I'm ashamed that I can barely handle what I've begun to call "perpetual February" weather. It's cold, damp, and cloudy. With occasional bursts of sun and warmth, but mostly it's just been cold and damp. And it's been like this, it seems, almost the whole year I've lived here.

Yes! I have now officially been living here in Tasmania for a year!

And that, is the end of my lazy update. Here's to hoping it's the end of my laziness.

Frosted

Yesterday I woke up (at 8mumblessomething) to a freezing bedroom.

Typical, since we heat the house with a wood heater and, because of the way the house is built, the heat doesn't reach the back rooms very well.

But then I opened my curtain and squeeled with glee.

There was frost everywhere! It's... the closest thing to snow we'll get at this elevation. Or something along those lines. But frost! Beautiful, fully-coating, white frost! And a most beautiful sunny day too!

I jumped in my gum boots (still in my pajamas which, as cold as it gets, consists of many layers of warm clothing) and took off for a quick walk outside to snap some pictures and just enjoy the actual winterness of it, since my previous experiences of winter here have been filled with almost nothing but cold rain and damp air.

I felt like I should run inside and turn on Christmas music and start baking cookies. My seasons feel so messed up at the moment, seeing as how they're literally backwards from what I'm used to.

Our view of Mt. Roland from the chicken shed
(The house is somewhere hidden to the left)

Fall raspberries
Not nearly as good as summer ones, but still fresh,,
And the ones left are attracting some really pretty birds

My frosted rosemary bush

The neighbors horses. Some of them anyway.
They loved the cold morning and were quite frisky.
(Except for in this photo...)

Our landlord's cabin (he lives just behind us behind a copse of trees.)
His view of the mountain is spectacular.

As the sun rose higher, the frost very slowly melted from the grass and made quite a romantic mist, while still leaving trees and flowers beautifully frosted. I felt as frisky as a foal walking around the small bit of property in the cold. It was just wonderful. And even better, to come back to the toasty (front of the) house where my husband had stoked the fire before leaving for work at 6AM.

Unexpected Surprises (an oxymoron)

Why have I posted this somewhat blurry picture of a hole in the ground? A seemingly pointless and small (2 inches in diameter at most) and blurry little hole in the ground?

Because this, my friends, is the home of a snake. A rather venomous one.

My sister-in-law swore that it was a Red Bellied Black Snake, but I did a little research and they don't live here. More likely, it's a Lowland Copperhead. They can look somewhat similar, though, and when you run into a snake here, you don't go chasing it to pick it up, play with it, and study it. Unless you're some kind of stupid.

And yes, we did see the snake. Several times.

My mother and sister-in-law and I were walking into a paddock to start a massive bonfire (that's another story entirely) and as we were going through the front gate, my mother-in-law grabs her daughter's arm and starts stuttering, "Da-Da-Da...!" as I continue walking for a half second, then Danella looks down and yells, "SNAKE!"

I saw maybe the last foot of it slithering into some long grass about a yard to my left. 2 seconds earlier and we could have been trodding on it.

Oh, and this was a chilly, wet, rainy day too. Two days before, when we'd been rifling through tons of branches and fallen trees perfect for snakes, we saw none. But again, another story.

After we'd lit the fire, My mother-in-law and her son went down (him carrying a giant club he'd found) to look for the snake again. And again, despite the lack of sun and the presence of rain and cold, it was out about another foot and a half. So he swung the club and missed, but stomped down all the grass it was going into. And that's when they found it's hole.

The third time we went by it, it's little head was poking out. Again. I'm not stupid enough to point my camera directly down a hole that is known to have a venomous snake down it just for a decent photo. Thus the terrible and blurry photo of a pointless-looking hole.

A Change in Seasons

I've grown up within an hour and a half of Chicago, Illinois my whole life, 26 years.

I've now been married for a month and have been living in Tasmania, Australia, for a little over a week.

The differences between here and there are both huge and small. One of the bigger ones at this time being the total switch in climates. Back in Illinois, just as I'd left, we were in the middle of a massive heat wave. Temperatures in the 90's nearly consistently from morning to night, and just becoming more and more humid.

Nearly my ideal type of weather.

Hear on the other side of the world, though, it's nearing the end of winter. Or so I'm told. the last week of July we arrived was the coldest (or second coldest) July on record. It's remained steadily cold here.

Now cold is somewhat relative, I suppose. Because my body was used to 90-plus temperatures, everything under 80 feels cool to me. So the temperatures here, anywhere between 50-30 degrees farenheight, have felt cold.

But cold compared to a Chicago winter? No. It's not cold.

It's a bit odd sitting at my kitchen table looking outside over horse pasture (not ours) while waiting for the reverse-cycle air conditioner (aka "heat pump) struggle to heat up the little bit of house we don't have blocked off by heavy curtins and doors, and eating my version of hot apple crisp for breakfast with hot, hot coffee. In August. And having it feel very natural.

I, however, am still trying to stay warm and not complain too much about how chilly, gray, raniy, and dreary it is, while knowing back home it's still hot and sunny.