"teeee nyum" calix says as he indicates to a blackbird foraging for worms amongst leaf litter, thus offering me his first sentence. the brain is making connections; our wee man is developing concepts.
words are arriving fast: weetbix, pain (bread) bot (gumboot), as more connections are made c is able to tell us what he wants. his recognition skills go beyond food, he recognises his best friend (ma' -max) in a photo and last night dragged me into the office to point at the computer and say 'nannie' (i think a skype rendezvous is in order!) at dinner time he announces 'à table!'.
he's happy to repeat anything you say- petit bébé, for example, after meeting his first little baby.
one of his favourite games is pointing to his various body parts: tête, nez, bouche, oreilles, yeux (head, nose, mouth, ears).....
but why limit yourself to just learning french?
calix recognises that chien and dog are both hmmhmm. listening into an english conversation he will just as easily offer hmmhmm or repeat 'dog'. how he learnt this i'm not sure, as p and i only speak to him in french.
soon, no doubt, he will be able to offer us lessons in modern liguistics- what's cool, or what's not hip...
xx
mama b
13.7.09
6.7.09
the optimistic gardener
while the weather continues to bite, i trawl the internet in search of heirloom vegetable seeds for sowing in anticipation of the summer garden. salads, tomatoes, maori potatoes. all high nutrition food, all frost tender.
in a brief weather interlude this afternoon i busied myself in the garden, making the last of the preparations for our fruit trees: tickle the soil, layer thick newspaper, twigs, seaweed, compost and peastraw and leave the rest of the work to the worms. of course, my seaweed supply ran short so later on we were combing the beach.
today's wintery high tide threw up many luscious species of algae; my marinebiologist friend informs me all of which are edible (although some are better than others). the beach was dressed for a party as the algae lay like pearls spilled from a necklace, like silk torn from a ball dress, or like the great long leathery seamonsters that had landed on the beach, uninvited and spoiled the occassion. today's wintery wind whipped my imagination into a frenzy as i stuffed these ocean gifts into a bag to take home to my garden.
being a gardener not only allows for year round optimism, while carrying out those meanial tasks it demands it gives you time to dream a little.
xx
mama b
in a brief weather interlude this afternoon i busied myself in the garden, making the last of the preparations for our fruit trees: tickle the soil, layer thick newspaper, twigs, seaweed, compost and peastraw and leave the rest of the work to the worms. of course, my seaweed supply ran short so later on we were combing the beach.
today's wintery high tide threw up many luscious species of algae; my marinebiologist friend informs me all of which are edible (although some are better than others). the beach was dressed for a party as the algae lay like pearls spilled from a necklace, like silk torn from a ball dress, or like the great long leathery seamonsters that had landed on the beach, uninvited and spoiled the occassion. today's wintery wind whipped my imagination into a frenzy as i stuffed these ocean gifts into a bag to take home to my garden.
being a gardener not only allows for year round optimism, while carrying out those meanial tasks it demands it gives you time to dream a little.
xx
mama b
30.6.09
impressionism
"i seenk, een fact, zat ze impressioneests were copeeing ze smaller peeeople. abstract art deeepends from where you are looking." says monsieur c[translated from the original by mama b]
the brussel sprout bandwagon
there are some things that aren't so great about winter.
sworn as i am to a locally produced seasonally available diet i sometimes feel my obligations weigh heavier than they should. take, for example, that little green gem of the winter: the brussel sprout.
i was going to grow some this winter -i found the seeds in my seed drawer last week, but i never got round to it. i think it may have been my taste-buds subliminally controlling my brain that stopped it from happening. when i saw the seeds, still sealed in their little packet, all i could come up with was 'oh well', as i filed them to the back of the drawer to forget again next season.
but you know how it is, right?
mmm, boiled brussel sprouts.
oooh, steamed brussel sprouts.
the opportunities seem endless!
but then something happened.
sometimes something so big happens in your life that you have to share it with your friends (i don't know where i would be without blogging!!!) immediately.
friends, republicans, countryfolk: this may be the moment you have been waiting for.
baked brussel sprouts!
oh yes, cut those babies into quarters; swirl about in a small bath of olive oil and balsamic vinegar; toss in some pine nuts and bake them in the oven for 20 minutes. when they're done shave a bit of parmesan over the top and voilà, bob est ton oncle!
now bring me the next person who dares say brussel sprouts are boring! and i'll cut off their ears.
xxx
mama b
sworn as i am to a locally produced seasonally available diet i sometimes feel my obligations weigh heavier than they should. take, for example, that little green gem of the winter: the brussel sprout.
i was going to grow some this winter -i found the seeds in my seed drawer last week, but i never got round to it. i think it may have been my taste-buds subliminally controlling my brain that stopped it from happening. when i saw the seeds, still sealed in their little packet, all i could come up with was 'oh well', as i filed them to the back of the drawer to forget again next season.
but you know how it is, right?
mmm, boiled brussel sprouts.
oooh, steamed brussel sprouts.
the opportunities seem endless!
but then something happened.
sometimes something so big happens in your life that you have to share it with your friends (i don't know where i would be without blogging!!!) immediately.
friends, republicans, countryfolk: this may be the moment you have been waiting for.
baked brussel sprouts!
oh yes, cut those babies into quarters; swirl about in a small bath of olive oil and balsamic vinegar; toss in some pine nuts and bake them in the oven for 20 minutes. when they're done shave a bit of parmesan over the top and voilà, bob est ton oncle!
now bring me the next person who dares say brussel sprouts are boring! and i'll cut off their ears.
xxx
mama b
27.6.09
things that begin with 2
we're on to two syllables now.
we don't count words like papa, or mama, or hmmhmm. that's just simple repitition, right?
we're talking about marmite.
for about 96% of the world's population right now, reading this, i can hear a collective 'what?'...
since the day after the beginning of time (tuesday, or thereabouts) the commonwealth countries have been waging a battle based on yeast extracts. for those of you who consider yourselves to be amongst the 96% questions based on WTF are acceptable just now.
in aotearoa we consider our mate, marmite to be far superior to those aussie's vegemite. or the pom's marmite.
and our wee man has confirmed this by expanding his lexicon to include Marmite as his first 2 syllable word. (you may note in several photos on this blog and on our web album that c always seems to be doing his best impersonation of a beardybloke- this is marmite). You either love it, or you hate it. it appears c has formally lodged himself with the former.
and on the second of two subjects concerning 2
this time it does follow one. as in one two. or, un deux.
actually, it should be un deux trois as we introduce all arrivals (ball throwing, emptying of cup of water over head, etc) by way of un deux trois, always with 'a certain tone'.
c has started repeating it. his intonation is correct -slightly nasal. but he hasn't got time for trois. oh no, no 3 hasn't arrived yet in his life. it's all un deux go! and yes, he catches me out, every time...
aiie, the new generation eh? they just have to go and reinvent stuff don't they
xxx
mama b
(i actually fell foul of the water over head thing when c experimented with his first undeux in the bath)
we don't count words like papa, or mama, or hmmhmm. that's just simple repitition, right?
we're talking about marmite.
for about 96% of the world's population right now, reading this, i can hear a collective 'what?'...
since the day after the beginning of time (tuesday, or thereabouts) the commonwealth countries have been waging a battle based on yeast extracts. for those of you who consider yourselves to be amongst the 96% questions based on WTF are acceptable just now.
in aotearoa we consider our mate, marmite to be far superior to those aussie's vegemite. or the pom's marmite.
and our wee man has confirmed this by expanding his lexicon to include Marmite as his first 2 syllable word. (you may note in several photos on this blog and on our web album that c always seems to be doing his best impersonation of a beardybloke- this is marmite). You either love it, or you hate it. it appears c has formally lodged himself with the former.
and on the second of two subjects concerning 2
this time it does follow one. as in one two. or, un deux.
actually, it should be un deux trois as we introduce all arrivals (ball throwing, emptying of cup of water over head, etc) by way of un deux trois, always with 'a certain tone'.
c has started repeating it. his intonation is correct -slightly nasal. but he hasn't got time for trois. oh no, no 3 hasn't arrived yet in his life. it's all un deux go! and yes, he catches me out, every time...
aiie, the new generation eh? they just have to go and reinvent stuff don't they
xxx
mama b
(i actually fell foul of the water over head thing when c experimented with his first undeux in the bath)
23.6.09
the littlest corsican driver
in aotearoa you need to be 15 years old before you drive; in the republic we let our citizens get behind the wheel at 15 months!
beepbeep!!
beepbeep!!
merry matariki!
the maori refer to a bunch of stars that appear low upon the morning horizon in late may as matariki. in other parts of the world these stars are called pleiades and subaru. down here they're significant as their arrival brings on the new year. in ancient times the maori believed the brighter the stars, the better the harvest. traditionally the period of time between the sighting of matariki and the following new moon was the time to connect with your family, tell tales, feast, and to prepare the garden for the following season.
last week we were busying ourselves in the garden in preparation for matariki. we finished making the raised beds, put in fence posts, dug, moved and raked soil. our garden was readied for the celebrations, for the new moon plantings and the oncoming spring.
in the republic we celebrated many cultures- yule's simple lighting of faerie lights on a tree and leaving little bundles of food for the faeries; we feasted with friends, told tales and shared wine; and on the morning of the shortest day the citizens of the republic busied themselves planting garlic and collecting seaweed.
today is the new moon, the beginning of the new year.
we wish you all good luck, love and happiness a plenty for the next year!
kia ora
xx
mama b
ps. so, it may not come as much of a surprise, but i didn't manage to rise in time to see the matariki. maybe next year, eh.
last week we were busying ourselves in the garden in preparation for matariki. we finished making the raised beds, put in fence posts, dug, moved and raked soil. our garden was readied for the celebrations, for the new moon plantings and the oncoming spring.
in the republic we celebrated many cultures- yule's simple lighting of faerie lights on a tree and leaving little bundles of food for the faeries; we feasted with friends, told tales and shared wine; and on the morning of the shortest day the citizens of the republic busied themselves planting garlic and collecting seaweed.
today is the new moon, the beginning of the new year.
we wish you all good luck, love and happiness a plenty for the next year!
kia ora
xx
mama b
ps. so, it may not come as much of a surprise, but i didn't manage to rise in time to see the matariki. maybe next year, eh.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
