I may have been a bit premature in my announcement of spring in my last post.
Winter is back with a vengeance this week in Tasmania.
But that’s ok.
It means I can snuggle under my Waverley woollen mill blanket on the couch with a heat pack.
It means waking up to check out the crispy white frosting on Mt Wellington.
It means slow cooking lamb necks with spices and sweet potato and eating it on couscous.
It means delicate pink flowers on my camellias.
It means mash potato, with everything!
It means Rob gets to wear the scarf it took me 3 years to knit.
It means fat furry flower buds on my Magnolia, with a promise of pretty starry flowers to come.
It means muddy paw prints inside the house, although Nigella does stop sometimes to have then towel dried.
Finally, it means that moment of total bliss as I bake myself on the electric blanket as I hop into bed.