Laden with fruit, the lemon tree begs to be useful. With a basket in one hand, and a small little boy clinging to the other, we answer it’s call. Bare feet cushioned by grass invigorated by unseasonally rainy weather, warm spring sunshine beating on our backs, we fill the basket. One. Two. Three.
Traipsing inside, I assume the captains position, and issue directives as the lemons are sliced opened and juiced. Flour. Butter. Sugar.
In goes the butter and sugar, the beaters go on… And the baby wakes. With Baby Butterfly in her sling, we start again, but apparently she’s starving. No one *ever* feeds her, dontchaknow? Eventually we get the batter made, into the tin and in the oven, and the smell of fresh lemon cake wafts tempting through the kitchen as we have lunch.
Butterfly is 10 days old, and growing quickly – our MCHN visit earlier in the week showed she’s put on 240g in a week. She sleeps well, feeding every two-ish hours during the day and three hourly at night.
This week, husband is back at work, and I think we’ve just about found our feet. Today has been a gloriously sunny day so far. A picnic for morning tea. Stories in the sunshine. The house is clean. The cake is baking away nicely. Baby and toddler are sleeping. Our visitors aren’t due for another two and a half hours. I see lunch and then a spot of crafting coming up. Bear has requested an aeroplane softie. And then I might try and make *something* pink. Anything, really. If I get a chance, a quilt and doona set has just about finished designing itself in my mind – next step, the paper version. A pile of scrapping is calling for attention. As is the folding pile. Eh, go fold yourself, washing. Wednesday already, where is the time going?
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