Walking in a winter wonderland

There was no snow to be seen, no sound of sleigh bells, not even a sprinkling of frost when I set off on my winter wonderland walk today. Instead, on this mid-winter morning in Encounter Bay, there was a bright blue sky with intermittent wisps of white clouds, and a warm-ish sun. Not a breath of wind.  I started off on my usual route, past the pioneer cemetery ...

 and down to the sea ....

... admiring all the wintry flowers in the gardens along the way.

Feeling rather perky in a cliched 'good to be alive' way, I pressed on along the seashore and decided to go to the end of the cycle path rather than turn off earlier as I usually do. A few other walkers were out and about, and after we exchanged nods and 'good mornings' I was alone again.

Big fat pelicans baring their chests sunwards.

A man launching his boat.

At the end of the road I veered north and began the long climb along Jagger Road that skirts Encounter Bay.  At first I passed homes with lovely bay views.

I was planning to turn at the first right and wend my way back home by weaving in and out of the streets until I was home. But where was a right-hand turn? I soon found myself passing farms and seeing Encounter Bay recede. 

And what was this? Olive trees and sheep. Was I in Tuscany?

  But no, the next field was full of gums and sheep.

But still - where were the houses? Where was a right-hand turn?

 I trudged on, my former joi-de-vive slowly evaporating. After a further fifteen minutes I was elated to finally see a road sign pointing to the right. I turned into Minke Whale Road. I then sighted Humpback Way and Krill Crescent. I was loving the names. But I wasn't getting anywhere. It was all cul de sacs and courts. I was going around in circles. I figured out that the developers did not want through traffic so limited the exits which is good for residents but not for intrepid walkers.

Foolishly I started singing that Kingston Trio song about Charlie who gets on a Boston train but can't get off as he goes round and round on the different lines and is referred to as 'the man who never returned'. It was starting to look as if this might be my fate.  Into Southern Right Road - which also got me nowhere ... but at least it took me back to Jagger Road again.

Resigned to having to follow this road, I crested a hill and saw a steep descent followed by a very steep incline. Oh well, what goes down must go up and this I did. 'Think how fit I'm getting', I muttered to myself. But was that a roundabout at the top of the hill?

I'm sure it was, so more trudging, then eventually, the roundabout! I veered right and heaved a sigh of relief as I saw that I was on familiar territory again. I'd been here before. Hallelujah.

So began my wending towards home. My good mood momentarily returned when I spotted a lovely lemon tree (I was tempted) and then some chooks and some lovely neat houses with winter gardens...

 ..and a quirky outdoor installation.

Two hours later, with more twists and turns than I care to remember, I was home, exhausted and thoroughly dispirited. Winter wonderland be dammed.

I plopped onto the sofa with a huge mug of hot chocolate and dunked in THREE marshmallows!!!

Diary of a sweater

I have not blogged for quite a while. Instead, I have been busy snuggling against the winter chills, knitting needles in hand and clicking away contentedly for many weeks. Steve enjoys it too, as I am unable to speak while concentrating on complex patterns. So both of us are happy.

Kate selected a vintage 1940s pattern and purchased the wool. It was duly delivered to me and I set to. I love the beginning of a project when it is all ahead of me.
Warning: Readers who are non-knitters will probably not get excited with this blog.

The pattern begins to take shape.

 It was a lovely merino wool that felt so soft.

Slowly the pieces were knitted and it began to take shape.
First the back....

... then the fronts.

 Finally it was time to block the pieces, using the steam iron. Here are the sleeves set to be blocked.

 Then I sewed the pieces together.

 And finally assembled the finished product.

It was a bulky parcel to post, but off it went to Melbourne..... where it was lovingly accepted ('It's so warm. Love it!!! Feel very vintage. ') and modelled for me. It is hard to get measurements right when the client is so far away but we did our best. I think it could have been longer but Kate insists vintage is on, or just below, the waist.

Now my fingers are itchy again and I'm awaiting the next project .......

Autumn in the Barossa Valley

We have just spent four days in South Australia's premier wine-growing area, the beautiful Barossa Valley, a three-hour drive from our home. We were celebrating our 30th wedding anniversary. First stop was Nairne, a small village in the outer Adelaide Hills where an old mill caught my eye.

 Then we reached Eden Valley, a wine area just south of the Barossa heartland.  Here the autumn colours were in full swing.

And onto the Barossa.

For those who love to know why things are so-named...

Colonel Light, Adelaide's first Surveyor General, visited the region in 1837 and named the valley Lynedoch Valley after his friend Lord Lynedoch; he named the surrounding hills the Barrosa Ranges because they reminded him of the area in Spain where he and Lynedoch had fought in the Battle of Barrosa. Misspellings occurred, and eventually Barossa was the name applied to the whole region, and Lyndoch, to a small nearby settlement. 


The valley was settled largely by German Lutheran immigrants in the 1840s, and there is still a distinctive Germanic feeling in the area, as evident by this imposing sign.    

We visited the major towns of Angaston (named after London merchant George Fife Angas who encouraged the German Lutherans to migrate to South Australia to escape religious persecution)  and Tanunda (an Aboriginal word meaning 'water hole'), both full of good food places, lovely old houses and heritage buildings.

A 1930s house in Angaston

A typical Tanunda dwelling

The home of Johann Rieschiek, a shoemaker, this is one of the oldest houses in Tanunda. 

This next photo is cheating because we never actually went into this building in the Tanunda Recreation Park; the photo was on an interpretive panel. It was closed when we were there, but I loved its story which is why I have included it. It is a kegelbahn or skittle alley. The game of kegel was a forerunner of 10-pin bowling and the Tanunda club was formed on 1858. It is the only one of its kind in the southern hemisphere.

Quirky roadside art in Angaston.

Then it was off for some serious wine tasting. 

We visited Jacobs Creek, one of the biggest wineries, in a lovely setting surrounded by gum trees.

A favourite of ours was Bethany Wines in the tiny hamlet of Bethany.

Bethany was  the first village in the Barossa settled by Prussian immigrants in the 1840s and the main street is full of old cottages, barns and age-old gardens.

The Bethany cemetery was the last resting place for many of the German settlers; the children's section was heartbreaking as the headstones recorded stillbirths, day-old children and not many past one year old.

A more pleasant diversion was a visit to Pheasant Farm and the farm shop of well-known South Australian foodie Maggie Beers where I swooned over fig and fennel paste, raspberry jam, beetroot relish, pate, Seville marmalade, and much more.  We walked around the lake.

The gentle views made for a relaxing visit. 

 Back on the wine trail and we loved the ambience (and the wines) at Rockford Wines.

A food platter at Grant Burge Wines.

One morning we decided a bush walk was in order after the food and drink we had been consuming.
The Kaiserstuhl Conservation Park is part of an old remnant Barossa forest, little of which remains today. There were stirngybarks, red river gums,grass trees, banksias, wattles and heaths and granite outcrops.

I loved looking for details.

The Barossa Saturday Farmers Market in Angaston was fun. Lots of wonderful aromas and amazing food (thick, juicy slices of Barossa bacon; yummy blueberry and custard buns; wholesome porridge; cheeses; Italian almond and wine biscuits... )

Another diversion took us to a lookout and a sculpture park, displaying the works of six sculptors from Australia, Japan, Belgium, France and the USA.

I think this was called White Cloud. 

And so ends our trip to the Barossa Valley.  Lots of lovely memories of golden vistas...

...  rows of vines stretching to the horizon...

and, back home, part of our horde displayed on the kitchen bench.