some wildflowers

my big face

eating my lunch on the swing, looking at the flowers

a song

skies

le printemps, doucement, pointe son nez.
les collines sont encore vertes.
les dernieres gelees, peut etre, passees.
quelques averses, assez pour remplir nos tanks.
une nouvelle cousine, la bas, en france et en ete.
quelques projets.
apiculture, culture, revegetation, saponification.
poil au menton.
demain, rendez-vous a l'heure du the, pour une rencontre de quatre generations.
des projets, encore qui se chamboulent.
rody: viendra, viendra pas.
nous: partira, partira pas.
et si oui pourquoi.
des graines a planter.
et zsuzsa.
et paje.
et benoit.

i'll show you this book here

the mirror revisited

swing

shadows and yoghurt

we're trying to propogate some gum trees

the man

blue eggs and rocking horses

small things around the place which make us happy

benoit was very excited about his new tip shop find. "the greatest dishrack ever" he tells me.

and we called her brocolli

there's two rooms now. everything changes. zsuzsa's got her little space away from the noise. to sleep, to cuddle her small giraffe and sprout little psalms before and after sleeping. benoit wonders how we ever lived without a little bird in our life. the weather cools. the rains come. we're rugged up in wools and layers and spending the days making cuttings of wordwood and lavender, planting grape vines and olive trees. i'm starting to make my first patchwork with these new stitches i've learnt. we're still rending the wall with wet clay and straw, but only when the days warm up. dreaming of green grass. of goats. of a whole field of pasture. dreaming of this winter lasting forever so that the earth is drunk, drunk, drunk on all this water.

we've got this little god to keep us company