The first scattering of real autumn leaves has been raked up and trundled down to the compost heap in our rickety wheelbarrow. Its tyre may be flat, its body a little rusty, but Peter found it on the street and it does the job admirably. As does that army-issue tin plate, one of my favourite props, found in a posher Melbourne suburb while dog-walking. It bears a old man's name and his WWII regiment number, scratched roughly into the back. Had a hunch it would catch light well. Pleased it's getting another lease of life.
Some creature - I'm not ruling out the owner of that wet nose up there - had been digging in the back beds, so we (um, he) rigged up a magnificent system of wire tunnelling to keep whoever it was out. The silverbeet's looking perky again and the kales are stretching out nicely under a warm, April sun.
Back in a couple of weeks, with, among other things, honey ice cream. Worth the wait for it's three ingredient simplicity, I promise.
In the meantime, I beg your advice. I've a huge quantity of these:
What, pray tell, does one do with a large, fiery quantity of habanero chillies?