The Plunge Down Under

Thriving Agapanthus

Last summer we enjoyed the profusion of these purple and white flowers, often called the Lily of the Nile, all around Melbourne.  Now that we know what to look for, this year it has been a treat to watch the progress from bulb to full-blown flower. 

This striking flower unfortunately attracted the attention of three ten-year-olds this past Friday evening, as a friend ruefully shared with me over Saturday morning coffee.  Her son and his mates apparently had a glorious time wielding their plastic swords to chop off the heads of every single agapanthus (over thirty of them) in the back garden.  Their misdeeds were not noticed until Saturday morning, and when we spoke, the parents were still mulling over what their response should be.  My input, other than sympathizing with her, was that it should be memorable.

The photos in this post were all taken on a recent, early-Sunday-morning walk.  The gardens were particularly lush that morning, the air fragrant with both Jassmine and Honeysuckle, making us all grateful for the rain that has blessed this land over the past twelve months.

Just Another Thursday in Melbourne

For a couple of hours on Wednesday I might have been forgiven for thinking that I was back in the U.S.   I had popped into Costco for what I thought would be a routine midweek trip only to discover there were no parking spaces left. When I finally made it into the store it was chock-a-block with harried shoppers, most of whom seemed to be expat Americans like myself searching for ingredients for Thanksgiving. The queue for fresh turkeys was growing in the meat department, making me thankful that a turkey was not on my list. An employee later told me that they were completely unprepared for the surge of shoppers on this Wednesday in Melbourne.

These two frantic hours at Costco may have felt like home, but little else this week has felt like Thanksgiving week in North America. To begin with, on Tuesday I was pulled over just past the noon hour for a breathalyzer test. Given how common they are here, the only surprising thing about this experience was that it was my first.

Then there is the weather, which much to my delight has been doing its best to compensate for what we will be missing this week. The abundant sunshine and today, the warm temperatures, have been lovely. It just doesn't seem right, however, to walk into the shopping mall in shorts and flip flops only to hear Jingle Bells over the sound system. I never realized before just how many Christmas carols refer to snow. It is similarly jarring to be hanging laundry outdoors to dry while listening through the screen door to Sophie playing Silent Night on the violin.

Hand in hand with the weather are the flowers and green grass. Our senses are assaulted each time we step outdoors. I cannot imagine that we will ever again live on a more beautiful street. In spite of all that is good, however, and truly there is much, I will confess somewhat to my shame that this morning when I woke up, I wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep and forget that it was Thursday.  It reminded me of all those difficult, lonely days during the first few months. 

Instead of hiding out under the covers, I managed to send the children off to school on time, and then busied myself preparing food for our second Thanksgiving celebration.  This one we get to have thanks to a very welcome invitation from our American friends the Kellers.  I am grateful for it for several reasons, not the least of which is that I never actually got to eat the food from our first one.

Following are some pictures taken throughout the day today as a sort of record of what Thanksgiving Thursday looked like this year at our house.

On the menu tonight we have turkey noodle soup, thanks to the turkey from the roasted wings used to make the gravy for Sunday's dinner.  It doesn't quite fit with the weather, but will go down well I believe with all members of the Wilkin family.  I spoke with my grandmother and parents on the phone this morning, and was glad to be filled in on the details of what they have been cooking and how they plan to celebrate (they also told me about the asphalt goo that stranded dozens of travelers in our hometown of Cranberry yesterday). Cameron came home jubilant with the news that he had won the best design award at a Lego design workshop today comprised of three schools and one homeschool group.  So it has been a good day, in spite of its melancholy beginning, and for that I am grateful.

A very Happy Thanksgiving to all of my American readers!

Thanksgiving Reflections 2011

(This is the speech I prepared for our American Thanksgiving in Melbourne celebrated on 6 November 2011)

It gives me great pleasure this evening to share with you my very favourite holiday, that of the uniquely American Thanksgiving.  I think we can all agree that when it comes to American culture, much of what is transported overseas, namely through various media sources, is negative.  Tonight we have the opportunity to share something I believe to be thoroughly positive, that of the tradition of giving thanks together over a bountiful meal with those whom we call our close friends and family members.

It is perhaps difficult to overstate the love that Americans have for the Thanksgiving holiday.  It is certainly the least commercial of all of the various special days celebrated throughout the calendar year, and, most happily for me, does not require the sending of cards, purchasing and wrapping of gifts, nor the undue spoiling of children.  For many Americans it is more important to go home for Thanksgiving than for Christmas, and the four days that make up this fourth weekend in November are among the most heavily travelled of the entire year. 

I would like to take just a few moments to attempt to set the scene for you that makes up this special weekend.  November is typically a rather dull month in much of North America.  The grass has lost its summer green colour, the beautiful autumn leaves have long since disappeared, leaving bare branches against a gray sky, and more often than not a cold rain is falling.  Christmas is still a month away, so something cheerful is definitely in order.  This might in part explain the attraction of Thanksgiving.

Then, of course, there is the prospect of the meal itself.  Preparations for the feast begin well in advance, with the making of elaborate menus that must take into account the favourite foods of all invited, including special recipes, often handed down for generations, from all branches of the families represented.  Purchasing of ingredients begins in earnest the weekend before, and by Wednesday of Thanksgiving week, the family has begun to gather. 

Thursday itself can be a very relaxing day, except perhaps for the cook in charge.  The only requirements of the day are to feast and to watch gridiron football.  In our family, we throw in a long walk during the afternoon in an attempt to counteract just a few of the calorie-laden dishes that grace the typical Thanksgiving table.  Some years there is enough snow for sledding, a bonus when there are young children underfoot.

As the turkey slowly cooks in the oven, filling the atmosphere with a wonderful aroma, the anticipation builds steadily throughout the house.  When the cook makes the long-awaited announcement that the bird has finished cooking, the excitement can be felt in the air.  The turkey is carefully lifted out of the oven, and while it rests, the potatoes are mashed, gravy stirred, and final touches put on the remainder of the dishes. In many households these dishes include one or more versions of candied yams, cornbread stuffing, rolls, cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, and corn pudding.

Although all mouths are watering by this point, indeed have been watering for an hour or more, there is a pause before the actual tucking in begins.  This I believe to be a most important part of the day.  Seated around tables decorated with autumn leaves, candles, and perhaps a pumpkin or two, in front of the family’s best china and silverware, time is taken in most families to offer thanks.  Often each person present, down to the very youngest, is asked to share what makes them most grateful.  This can be a beautiful time, sometimes a funny one, and frequently a touching one.

I would like to take this opportunity to share my gratitude for how God has blessed our family during the past fifteen months.  We have gone from wondering how we were going to survive the next two or three years on the other side of the world, so far from our family and friends, to wondering just how we will ever bring ourselves to return when the time comes.  This, I believe, is in very large part due to the folks at Malvern Presbyterian Church whom we have come to view as our Australian family.  You have welcomed us with open arms, taken the time to get to know us, given us advice about how to best enjoy this marvellous country of yours, and served us faithfully on Sunday mornings and evenings.  You have not only tolerated the extra noise, mess, and commotion caused by our four children, but have shown them such great kindness and generosity that coming to church is a highlight of the week for them, something they keenly anticipate.  We have sensed your love, friendship, and care time and time again, and for this we are more grateful than we are able to properly express.

Thanksgiving is a favourite time to me for many reasons.  It provides an opportunity before the busy Christmas season ahead to take a deep breath and focus upon what is truly important.  There is a simple but profound beauty, I believe, in taking time to reflect over the blessings of the past year, to share them with those with whom you have close ties, and then to offer heartfelt thanksgiving to our Heavenly Father.  The traditional meal of turkey, dressing, and pumpkin pie that follows is the bonus, and one that we are thrilled to share with you tonight.

As for the food itself, our minister Phil wondered when the subject was first discussed whether there would be anything actually edible.  We certainly trust there will be something edible for you, Phil, and for all present, and hopefully even better than that, although I cannot hope to reach the standard set for me over the years by my mother and grandmother.

As I bring my personal remarks to a close, I would like to express my gratitude for all who have offered their help in putting together tonight’s meal.  Your support and enthusiasm have been much appreciated and deeply felt.  I would especially like to mention my heartfelt thanks to Gillian Brown who has gone far above the call of duty and friendship in all the work, thought, and preparation that she has poured into this evening.  She can have had no idea just what she was getting herself into when she offered last year about this time to help us chase away our loneliness at Thanksgiving 2011 by celebrating with us.  Without her, I would not have had the courage, nor the ability, to do this.  I am so glad she suggested it, however, as the preparations have provided a great source of joy to me and to my family, and I hope to all of you tonight as well.

Sophie Plays the Violin

Motherhood can take you by surprise.  Sometimes it grabs you when you least expect it, and throws you for a loop.  You would think that, after nearly thirteen years, I would know that all too well. Toss in two years of emotional highs and lows, with the unexpected lurking around nearly every corner (Australia?  Surely you are kidding?), and I should be prepared for just about anything. 

Not so, as I discovered today.  We arrived at Sophie's school for her first violin performance this afternoon, just another item to tick off on a busy weekend schedule.  Most parents know the drill all too well.  I had somehow survived Friday night, which involved taking Cameron out of school early, hurrying to pick up the girls, dropping Cameron off at a friend's house so he would have a ride to his cricket match, sorting out his transportation back home again at an unknown point in the evening, dropping the girls off at home, picking James up at kinder, scrambling to find something for dinner, cajoling Ross to leave the office early, organizing a ride for Katie to youth group at 7:30pm, figuring out how Sophie would get to her piano recital, also starting at 7:30pm, reminding her to practice one more time, organizing a babysitter for James, putting together an outfit so I could go into the city with a friend for a rare night out, watching the storm clouds gather and realizing that cricket would be called off early, calling Ross to tell him to hurry, finding an outfit for Sophie to wear, making sure Sophie ate something, and finally getting dressed in ten minutes flat. 

Miraculously it all came together. Everyone ended up where they needed to be at the right time, and Crystal and I had a most enjoyable evening admiring the work of Australian photographer Ken Duncan, whom she has followed for the past three years, at his studio in the Docklands.  I may have yawned excessively throughout the evening, but we firmly agreed that we were not going home until all children had been sleeping soundly for some time.  There were a few complaints about all the driving required from Ross, but he came through and managed to get Cameron and his friend back home from the canceled cricket match, Sophie to a successful piano concert, and all put to bed again at a fairly reasonable hour.

Saturday morning arrived far too quickly.  Thanks to the rain we had a slow start to the day, but by ten, it was time for Sophie's gymnastics class (overscheduled, yes, she is).  Ross needed to buy groceries as well as, more importantly and irritatingly, the materials necessary for Cameron to design and build a boat from recyclable materials over the next three weeks.  I squeezed in coffee with two friends, most enjoyable interludes I would not have done without, but suddenly realized we were in danger of being late for the violin recital.  We rushed out the door, in the process forgetting the morning tea required for after the performance, and also neglecting to double check the location and time of Cameron's basketball game (he ended up missing it as a result).  It was after trudging up the hill to the performance hall, and looking around at the tripods being set up around the room, expensive digital SLRs clicked on, tested, and focused, and video cameras turned to the correct settings, that I realized that a camera had never once crossed my mind.  Thank goodness for iphones.

http://youtu.be/T-g_aSEfy7A  

Sophie was third on the docket, a relief to both of us I believe.  I listened to her introduce herself and her song with that nervous, sick feeling that parents get at recitals, completely unprepared for the waves of emotion that hit as she began to play.  The tears were so unexpected.  Most of motherhood is rather mundane, filled with the endless cycles of cleaning, reminding, correcting, finding, teaching, and more cleaning, wondering will they ever grow up and become more responsible.  The moments of joy and pride can seem few and far between, but how sweet when they do come .    I allowed the tears to overflow from time to time throughout the hour-long performance, enjoying the gift of young girls playing beautiful music, and grateful for this time to sit and savor four terms' worth of hard work for teachers, parents, and students alike.

In the absence of family close by, how one possibly manages parenting without friends, I really don't know.   This weekend, I relied on several of them, including Gillian to provide a ride for Cameron after cricket as well as a last minute dress and fashion advice for Friday night, Jeannie for supplying chocolate cake and watermelon when I forgot the morning tea (and coming to my rescue when I had no cash to pay for breakfast), Sharon for taking over my regular job of chauffer on Friday night, and Crystal for a fun evening out.  My gratitude, while not adequately expressed at the time, is most sincere.

Melbourne's Arcades

Faced with at least the tenth day of rain during their two week visit, my parents gamely agreed on their last full day in Australia to take a tour of Melbourne's famous shopping arcades and laneways, something I have had on my to do list for quite some time.  We went by tram, still a novelty for them, and after picking up a brochure at the visitor information center, put up our umbrellas and went for a walk.

Melbourne has a fascinating selection of laneways, alleyways, and arcades, most with several cafes. We had coffee in one of them, and after touring the Royal Arcade and the Block Arcade, we enjoyed lunch at the Hopetoun Tea Rooms.  The best part was choosing from among all of the beautiful desserts.

The lunch was lovely, the desserts delicious, and the company even better.  Thanks, Dad and Mom, for a wonderful ending to your third trip to Melbourne!

 

Valley of the Winds

In a recent post, written from the skies over the Northern Territory, I described a hike we took in the Kata Tjuta, also known by the name given to it by European explorers, "The Olgas."  This hike ended up almost compensating for our lack of sunshine in the Red Centre, and it is something we would not have been likely to complete had the daytime temperatures lived up to their typical highs for this time of year.  Since I was unable to access my pictures while writing the original blog post, I will include a few of them in this one.

Just before we began the hike, we came across the road to Western Australia.  We traveled down it for a few metres before becoming nervous about getting stuck.

Ross wanted a picture of the sign warning about the dangers of heat stress since we were so cold.

Likely we would not have spotted these kangaroos had not the hikers who had passed us some time before stopped to watch them with their binoculars.

In spite of the cloudy skies and cool temperatures, we became very thirsty, and were glad of this water station to refill our water bottles.  We figured that the water must be brought in by helicoptor.

This was our last look at Uluru as we had to leave very early the next morning.  Since a sunset did not seem too hopeful, we canceled our plans to return in the evening and instead went out to a decent restaurant for dinner..  The kids were impressed enough with their surroundings that they all ate quietly and continued to refrain from arguing, all in all not a bad ending to what was surely one of the more unique birthdays that I have ever enjoyed.

 

An American Thanksgiving in Melbourne

Twelve months ago, I never would have dreamed that I would be serving Thanksgiving dinner to 73 people in November 2011.  Had you asked, I would have responded that it was impossible.  That is exactly what happened this past Sunday night, however, and somehow the whole event came off without one disaster, even a mini one.  The credit for this, at least where human credit is concerned, goes entirely to the inspiration, organization, and planning skills of my friend Gillian.  Without her, I would have likely given up before I ever started.  With her, it ran smoothly, albeit with lots of hard work, and in the process, I thoroughly enjoyed myself.  I can only hope that she did as well.

Using a few things my mother brought with her from an American dollar store, combined with a few of her own things, Gillian designed the table decorations.  Mandarins made a good substitute for pumpkins as they are currently still somewhat in season here.

Once the decorations were settled, we moved into serious menu planning.  We wanted to include as many traditional Thanksgiving dishes as possible, but keep it simple enough that what we did make was well prepared.  We purchased pumpkin and apple pies from Costco, and when time allowed, included homemade pecan pies in the mix.  My grandmother's make-ahead mashed potatoes were chosen so they could be reheated in crock pots, a make-ahead turkey gravy recipe was procured and executed, and the ingredients purchased for stuffing, two versions of candied yams, cranberry salad, green bean salad, and cranberry bread.

With some trepidation, we ordered three turkeys from our local poultry shop.  Gillian had never roasted a turkey, and I had only done one, exactly twelve years ago, but with some help from a gourmet food magazine and research by Gillian's husband David, we came up with a plan to get them all finished about the same time on Sunday afternoon.  David roasted and carved two of them, a much-appreciated contribution, while Ross and I did the third between the two of us.

Hiring an extra warmer to keep dishes hot proved to be extremely helpful.  Gillian managed to find the one below at a very reasonable price after an afternoon's worth of sleuthing and driving around.

We had prepared our guests ahead of time as well as we could for the strange-to-them mixture of flavors and textures they would be experiencing on Sunday.  Australians do not mix sweet and savory, so the idea of serving candied yams alongside the turkey was truly foreign.  Pumpkin pie is equally hard for them to contemplate since pumpkin is considered savory down under, and is normally served roasted without any sweetening.  As for a cranberry salad with marshmallows mixed in, the very idea was rather shocking.  The gravy seemed to be somewhat of a novelty as well, but unlike the cranberry salad, was well received.  As it turned out, in spite of its sweetness, we could have used another pan of candied yams.

One of our goals for this dinner was to serve the older folks who typically serve us every Sunday during the shared meal that follows the evening service.  I shared some thoughts regarding the traditions of Thanksgiving to our audience, and then Gillian provided instructions that asked the children to wait so that our guests to go through the buffet line first, and then actually sit down for once and enjoy their food at their leisure.  While they did so, the young ones played outdoors, some waiting more patiently than others.

We were gratified with the enthusiasm shown for sampling all we had prepared, and with the compliments expressed afterward.

In addition to sharing the culinary traditions of Thanksgiving, we also provided a Thanksgiving Trivia quiz to be completed between dinner and dessert.  R eventually read out the answers to a good-natured audience.

James adores his buddy Gus, who looked after him quite well throughout the evening.

Even before the event was finished, the question was raised as to whether we would be doing this again next year.  While neither Gillian nor I can say for sure where we will be in November 2012, I do think we would like to do it again.  It was truly a pleasure to team up with her, and I am immensely grateful for the dedication and talent that she so generously provided to make the evening a success. 

Special thanks to Jacob Daffy for taking the majority of the pictures in this post.

 

 

 

The Hot Dry Outback Flooded By Cameron

When my family and I flew to Uluru, we were surprised to see the Outback flooded.

This is a a pool that is always there but now it is flooding around the Rock

It was almost inposible not to get wet. We saw some amazing carvings.

When there is rain, water falls go down Uluru.

This was the end of our first trip. The next day we went to the Olgas which is a series of rocks that look like heads.

We took a seven kilometer walk though the Olgas. It was very pretty.

There were a lot of rocks to climb.

We were a bit worried because Quantis grounded their entire fleet of airplanes while we were away. We had to wake up very early to catch our flight. On the drive back we had some very amazing views of the red earth.  All in all, it was another succesful trip.

 

Water From the Rock

As a family we have had a bit of fun thinking up titles for this post.  "Drowning in the Desert," "Unexpected Outback Oasis," "Wading through the Red Centre," and "Shivering in the Outback" were all suggested.  You get the picture.  There was water, and lots of it, accompanied by cold winds, precisely where we did not think they would be. 

Australia has been like that for us, I must say, surprising us at nearly every turn.  By far the majority of these surprises have been pleasant ones, particularly the beautiful friends we have made, and the many wonderful places we have visited.  As for the water, surely we have learnt our lesson by now.  We repent of thinking of Australia as primarily a sunburnt country.  We know that it can rain, and that when it does, it will make up for the drought of the previous decade.  We also know that the Wilkin family, or the Smith family, will likely be present to witness said rain, whether that be in Sydney, Uluru, Port Douglas, Wilsons Promontory, Melbourne, the Great Ocean Road, or the entire state of Victoria for that matter..

While it is true that the sun was shining when we landed in Alice Springs, we were only about half an hour down the Stuart Highway before the clouds opened.  We didn't stop to take many pictures as R was concerned about getting to our destination by nightfall.

The few vehicles we met on the 400km journey to Ayers Rock Resort were mainly extra long transport trucks.

I think I have mentioned my aversion to packing.  I really should not have waited until late in the day before we left on a 6:30am flight.  Next time around, I am sure, I will do a better job planning for all contingencies.  Not a single one of us had proper shoes for hiking.  It was only at the last minute that I grabbed a jacket for all.  We made quite the contrast to the mainly European tourists we met up with, they in their expensive, all-weather parkas and trousers, and proper hiking boots, we in our jeans, shorts, and flip flops or crocs.  I should mention that the average daytime temperature for this part of Australia at this time of year is over 90F.  Most people come back from Uluru sunburned, not waterlogged and cold as we did.

We did our best to remain cheerful, but at times some of us struggled.

Shortly after I took the above picture, the skies opened again in earnest, and we raced back to our vehicle.  The next couple of hours we spent driving around and attempting to feel good about the privilege of seeing the waterfalls streaming from the rock.  A park ranger had told us earlier that morning, with shining eyes, that very few people get the opportunity to see Uluru in the rain, let alone with waterfalls running from its top.  Apparently this area can go six years without a single drop of rain.  The cheerful young woman who took the $140 it took to fill up our diesel tank mentioned that she simply could not wait for her shift to end so she could see the rivers of water for herself.

We oohad and aahed for a while, and then decided we would have preferred to see the rock in the sun.  Oh well.  That didn't happen this time, and we likely will not return.  We are, however, grateful to have been to this special part of Australia, whatever the weather.

 

Notes from the Return Flight to Melbourne

High above the Outback on our return journey, marveling at the intensity of the rich, warm hues revealed by the sunshine, I must admit that our trip to visit Australia's giant red rock was nothing like I expected. We anticipated searing heat, blinding sunlight, spectacular sunsets, dry earth, afternoons relaxing by the pool, perhaps a couple of brief hikes in the early mornings, and hordes of pesky flies.  Instead we found spectacular thunderstorms, waterfalls running from the Rock, knee deep, muddy red pools of water everywhere we walked, chilling winds, and not a single moment of sunshine.  

While I can't help but deeply regret that moment of sun shining on Uluru that we hung around waiting for to the last possible moment, I also believe there was much we gained by this unusual stretch of weather in the red centre.  It made possible the highlight if our trip, a 7.4km family hike described in all of our guidebooks as strenuous, and something we have not tried doing before with all of our children.   

As they clambered up steep, red, rocky terrain, forded streams, leapt over puddles, and listened for echoes between the giant red domes, our exercise-starved kids were in their element.   Even James hiked for miles before requesting a lift from Ross, something we never dreamed he could do, at least willingly. That we completed the exhilarating, beautiful walk together made for one if those great shared family experiences, the kind that for our family at least can be so elusive.   Feuds between siblings were temporarily halted, and (most) complaining ceased as we pondered the unusual landscape, savored the views from the lookouts, and watched kangaroos cavorting high above us.

This is probably the memory I will cherish most.  It certainly won't be the hours we spent wading through the deep, muddy puddles at the base of Uluru in drenched clothing, the rain dripping from our noses, and all of us cold to the bone.  Those pictures I will share in another post.