It's been a while but here's another Home Journal to download...

 I can't remember when I last shared a vintage copy of the Australian Home Journal to download, but today I have the September 1952 issue for you. 

My mum was eleven when this was published, and probably read the AHJ with her own mother, as would her two older sisters. 

Initially the Australian Home Journal was published as a fashion magazine, also including a few recipes, an advice column, three free paper patterns (instructions included in the magazine) and other patterns which could be purchased, movie news and a short fictional story. 

By 1965 the emphasis changed more to homemaking in general, so now I'm going to track us down one of those issues. 

In the meantime however, enjoy this 1952 issue I've got for you today.

There's a section on afternoon tea suggestions with cake and biscuit recipes which you may like to try, knitting and crochet patterns, as well as some fashion advice of the time, new movies and Hollywood news, womanly advice etc. 

The recipe for Ginger Snaps (below) sounds really good, and as Blossom and I have a genuine love for all things ginger this will definitely be made next week. 

Have you ever wondered who was giving the agony aunt advice in these kinds of magazines?  I'd love to know!

This is actually a very pretty top. Of course, I'd need the slim waist to wear it. ;-)

I also love the ad in the bottom right for "waist nippers", and the mention of step-ins...ha ha! Nana wore step-ins all the time. I'd completely forgotten that!

Use the link below to download the September 1952 issue (a few pages were missing) and I hope you enjoy it!

DOWNLOAD Australian Home Journal September 1952

It's been a big week here on our quarter acre, with a few unexpected challenges to manage.

Life for most of us is one long journey of hills, plains and valleys - the hills being times of great joy or boosted energy to accomplish things; the valleys too often a season of struggle, illness, loss or darkness; and the plains, a welcome time of much needed rest, and sameness, the time when everyday rhythms bring predictable order back to our days. 

Honestly, I have never really looked at sameness this way before, but you know, I delight in weeks or months when life potters along without highs or lows, living each day as a simple gift just like the day before. No surprises, just calming rhythms following a familiar pattern. But of course, challenging times will come again, so that makes it even more important to relish the repetitive and predictable weeks as a gifted respite. 

I was pondering how much calmer I am today when facing unforeseen ups and downs, than even three years ago (pre-Covid on reflection) and wonder if it's due to choices like intentional slowing, the letting go of the need to have my hand in many pies, accepting whatever comes my way each day and giving thanks regardless...though mostly I would say its an undoubting faith that no matter my path, God is right there with me, speaking to me through His Word and directing my thoughts and intentions in ways that I could not have done myself. 

Learning that life can be slowly enjoyed, even in the midst of challenges, is what I have gained most as a woman this year. Being structured in my day to day rhythms, but not glued to them when things happen and my time and energy is required elsewhere, has also brought me peace, because when the crisis passes I automatically slip back into those well worn rhythms once again. 

That's the example Nana showed me through how she lived her own life. She would have thought it an inconsequential life, something of no report, yet looking back from this far along in my own 63 years, her life was profoundly important and of great consequence to me. 

There were times when her everyday routine was passed over if she needed to attend to more important or urgent things, but once everything was back to normal she slipped into her daily tasks again without skipping a beat. And it was because she worked around her little home so diligently each day, keeping on top of her chores and maintaining a home which was always in order should an unexpected visitor arrive at the door, that she could miss a day, a week, and still have an ordered home. For the longest time I imagined my own need to have everything ordered and neat a bit obsessive, but no - I had learned from a true homemaker, and had subconsciously stored everything away in my young mind until such a time as I could keep house that way too. What a blessing her life example gave me!

When I was chatting to my husband's aunt yesterday about childhood years, I found many memories coming to mind that I'd not thought of in decades. Vivid recollections of Nana's diligence to the task at hand, her constancy of purpose and deep pride in creating a home that made everyone feel welcome and loved, her ability to make something lovely out of very little, the way she seemed to effortlessly keep house (though it required much work without modern appliances) simply through living by her rhythms and routines....and the very basic meals which even today I would choose to enjoy over any restaurant fare. 

So where am I going with this train of thought??

Two things really.

Firstly, living each day slowly embracing what it holds and doing the best we're able with the time we are given.

Secondly, using the example of those who have left a legacy upon our hearts, to become that same example for the little ones who are watching us today as we live out our own lives. 

God bless you lovely ones! I have a sick cat to tend, an energetic puppy to play with, and a hearty lunch to make...how blessed I am to be given the opportunity to care for those under our roof today. 

Loving hugs

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Our handmaidens and another free Postcard...

 You know, for so many years I have heard women lament of not having any handmaidens, such as the Proverbs 31 woman mentions in verse 15, and it always astounds me how they have completely overlooked the handmaidens in their own homes today. I think Mrs Proverbs 31 would have loved some of the ones that work in my own home.

Growing up I saw my Nana work hard each day, never begrudgingly, and for us not having a fridge or washing machine or vacuum cleaner or hot water in the home was quite normal. I did not realise that some people around us had a real refrigerator, a twin tub washer, or that they could turn on a hot or cold tap right inside their own house. My little world revolved around the home Nana and Pop made for us and in comparison to many of their peers it could even be called primitive by late 1960's standards, in fact I was thirteen when Nana and Pop moved into a different flat, one which had hot and cold running water at the kitchen sink (though we had to light the gas for it). Up until then Nana boiled water in the old copper (which doubled as her washtub as it had a detachable wringer) and every few days she'd carry bucket loads of hot water from the copper, up the back path to the bathhouse and pour it in to the old tub for us to take turns bathing in. 

Then the water had to be emptied from the tub, bucket by bucket, and the bathtub cleaned and dried. On in-between days Nana, Pop and I would scrub our hands, faces, feet, behind the ears and wash our hair under the cold tap by the back door. This was our normal and I never imagined life to be different.

I can still remember the Ice Man arriving every week to deposit a huge cube of ice in the Icebox because until I was thirteen we did not have a refrigerator. 

Now, you know, I love the old days, the old ways, and enjoy learning the skills of those times, and there was a time where I expounded over and over how if it was good enough for Nana then we should all aim to step back and do things the way they used to be done. But things change. A child, which is still what I call myself before God, grows up and the Lord instils a bit more wisdom and common sense along the way. 

When Nana finally got a twin tub washing machine in the early 1970's it was a gamechanger for her. She was getting older, around the same age I am now, and she did not have the strength of her younger years, so for the next ten years she delighted in her new handmaiden until she passed away in 1982.

And one day this came home to me as I studied Proverbs 31:10-31...the fact that if Nana were alive to day she would love a front loader like mine. She would have thoroughly enjoyed using my vacuum cleaner and steam mop. She would definitely find my two refrigerators quite a step above the small second hand Kelvinator she eventually got around the time we moved in 1972.

My dishwasher, iron, sewing machine, coffee machine, blender, oven, cooktop, hair dryer, hot and cold taps, water filter...every one of these is also a maidservant in my home, just as they are in yours.

Pondering lately how well my Nana kept house, how everything she owned was appreciated because my Pop worked hard to purchase them, how her little abode twinkled and shone with care and homemaker pride, how her days reflected a gentle unchanging rhythm of habits and routines...I've been struck by my own lack of appreciation for all the modern appliances which fill my home and make my life easier.

Though our homes are larger today on average, I can easily mop a three bedroom house far quicker than Nana could scrub the one-bedroom walk-through on her knees.

I don't have to shop every day or two for fresh produce as she did, but can shop weekly and store it all in a larger fridge and freezer as well as the walk-in pantry.

My washing is done one load per day, on a 30 minute eco cycle, before I hang it all out in the sun on the clothesline (I don't have a dryer nor want one). Nana spent many hours every Monday doing the weekly wash and until we got the twin tub (which was still far more work than our modern machines) she did it all by hand.

Nana would take all the rugs outside and hang them over the clothesline to beat them with a huge broom to dislodge the dust each week. I just vacuum.

How wonderful are our handmaidens?!

I'm writing about this today because like most things in life that we take for granted, a lack of appreciation for what we now consider basic everyday items, can creep in to our hearts.

This next month, as you and I fill the washing machine, vacuum the carpets and rugs, cream butter and sugar in minutes with our electric mixer (Nana had a hand beater that took forever), brew a coffee, heat up leftovers in the microwave for dinner, or attend to any number of household requirements, let us give thanks for each of our labour-saving handmaidens, okay?

This week's Postcard from Heaven is number four in the series of six.

Over the past year or more I think there have been many tears shed across the world, and many hearts do not realise that those tears matter deeply to our Heavenly Father.

If you know of someone who needs comfort, hope, or affirmation that their sorrows matter to God, this postcard would be a precious gift given from the heart or posted anonymously.

Perhaps your are the one who is in need of strong arms to carry you for a while, an ear to listen and a genuine infusion of compassion and love? Stitch this for your own heart dear one. Know, and do not doubt, that the Lord cares, and as it says in Psalm 56:8 -

"You keep track of all my sorrows; 

You have collected all my tears in Your bottle. 

You have recorded each one in Your book."

Use the link below to download the free pattern.

DOWNLOAD "Postcards From Heaven" week 4.

Other things around HOME...

I clearly remember Nana mending, always mending, making things last. As I was going through my dress patterns the other day, looking for one to make that was cool and modest, a memory of Nana mending Pop's woollen socks came to mind. As with many memories, this led me on a journey of thought which eventuated in my decision not to make a dress, but to mend a few dresses which had been packed away due to various unravelling, holes and other problems. 

Each day I've been working on one or another during the late afternoons while waiting for the washing to dry and the chickens to finish their free-range time.

I uncovered a few more items than can either be mended or repurposed after cleaning out the wardrobe in the bedroom and giving the inside a good scrub. It's funny what you find when you take things apart to clean. There was one bag of old things which made their way to the op shop, but everything in need of mending made a tidy pile in the sewing room.  Which made me think how blessed I am to have a sewing machine as a handmaiden! 

The south of our state is in Covid lockdown again, and up here in the north, for the first time we have mandatory wearing of face masks. As this has not been needed until now our dear Blossom set to work on her own sewing machine to make fully lined masks for the family. 

I prefer ties to elastic and she wisely chose to tear strips from one of Ross's old t-shirts for stretchy ties. 

We tried them out yesterday when we went out shopping to stock up on essentials and she's made them very comfortable and quite easy to breathe through.

I came home with a good number of glass jars for the pantry so as we won't be leaving home again for a while I can finally get in and sort out the walk in pantry, removing the last of the plastic containers and replacing with the glass. I'd wanted to do this last week but other things cropped up which needed more attention. Tomorrow this will be my focus and I'm very excited about it. 

It's raining! Hang on for 5 minutes...

Well, I got the washing off the line just in time, one egg collected from the coop, and as dinner is already in the crock pot I shall brew myself a cup of Earl Grey and nibble one or two Ginger Kisses before returning to the mending.

How are YOU faring this week? I'd love to hear what's occupying your thoughts and time. 

Bless you heaps,

PS: Block 3 of Simple Days is now in my shop. Go HERE to purchase as an instant download.

Yarn and a yarn...

My Nana was a knitter. I never saw her do any crochet, but come autumn she'd have the knitting needles out and a familiar click-clack would sound through our flat each evening as we watched the telly or sat in the kitchen listening to the radio.

Mostly she knitted socks, scarves, vests and balaclavas, all to be worn by my dear Pop in the cold night hours whilst loading cargo off and on ships at the Newcastle Port. To my knowledge she never knitted any other clothing, but there was an occasional tea cosy made to dress the pot when it's old finery had worn thin. 

I was reminded of Nana and her seasonal employment with yarn when a newsletter from Eco-yarns arrived in my email inbox one day last week. I bought a few skeins of Eco-yarn as a gift for a friend last year (and it's absolutely beautiful) which is why I receive their newsletters. I do swoon over their natural dyed wool but it's too hot here nine months of the year to take knitting or crochet seriously so I swoon a while and then delete the email. 

But in this latest newsletter they'd included a lovely, simple washcloth pattern of which I think I'll knit at least one if I can find some suitable yarn here in town. 

It's garter stitch for the washcloth with an option to crochet around the edge when you finish. The pattern is free and you're welcome to make it too by clicking on the link above the photo.

Make your own Simple Beauty Washcloth 

So that's the first 'yarn' in my blog title, now on to the other 'yarn'.

A yarn is what my Pop would call a chat. He'd say, "I was having a yarn with Joe at smoko..." or "Jennifer, come and have a yarn with your old Pop and tell me what you've been up to today..."

Whilst looking at that photo of the washcloth above I realised for the first time just why a chat was called a yarn. Because a yarn is lines of conversation interwoven from one person to another, back and forth, round about, creating a story, making something permanent - be it only a memory - out of mere thoughts.

Just like we use woolly yarn to weave, crochet or knit - in and out, round about, back and forth, creating something tangible, something more than an idea.

Nana and Pop had many yarns while she knitted with her yarn.
I usually sat nearby and just enjoyed being with them, eating bread with butter and jam and loving how right everything was in our little world in the poor side of town.

Thinking about the yarn and the washcloth also got me thinking about my favourite domesticity  book, in fact the book which inspired my year of gentle domesticity in 2015, a year that ran over into 2016 and is still giving me food for thought and joy in my ordinary today. 

Tell-tale signs of a well loved, well used, and generally read cover to cover and back again book...

The author, Jane Brocket, adores yarn.

She knits socks, lots and lots of socks.

In fact when I bought another of her books (The Gentle Art of Knitting) what was the very first pattern in that book? Socks.
I tried knitting socks...let's not relive that experience. 

I do like her cable knitted hot water bottle cover, though. When my children were little I knitted many cabled cardigans, vests and jumpers (sweaters) for them, spending many a contented hour click-clacking away on wintry Melbourne nights. 

Sadly we've had no need of a hot water bottle since moving to the tropics in 2009, but I do think one might look rather nice just lying beside a stack of Jane Austen classics, a vase of carnations, and a notepad. 

In Jane's knitting book, which I'm sad to say has not been read cover to cover, nor have I made one single thing from it, she also has a simple washcloth pattern which if memory serves me right I did intend making a while back??

(the red and white caught my eye, something Nana would have made...love it)

Fortunately washcloths and dishcloths all serve a purpose no matter what the weather or where in the world you live so I DO intend making at least one this year, perhaps even before my winter (which is more like a springy autumn) begins in June. 

And I do think that red and white is rather charming. Or is the heart ribbon wrapped around the dishcloth adding a touch of sentimentality that's got me romanticising? Mmmmm.

Today is my birthday and I spent most of it with Blossom and Cully May. We had cake and coffee at a nice cafe where for the first time Cully May was introduced to a high chair, which she "loved" almost as much as my lemon syrup muffin.

Afterwards we roamed our local Spotlight store so that Blossom could choose fabric and supplies for her fledgling baby and toddler clothing design business. I had plans to check out their yarns section for my washcloth/dishcloth plans but in the excitement of being the centre of Cully May's attention for those two hours I completely forgot!

There's always tomorrow.

When I arrived home mid afternoon my exhaustion level was on extreme, but my happiness meter was overflowing.
To top it off Mr E arrived home from work half an hour later with the biggest bunch of flowers and the whole house smells amazing!

We're going out for dinner tonight, then I will need to rest and recover all day tomorrow,
but for the blessings of today it's all worth it.

THE GIVEAWAY WINNER!

Thank you to everyone who entered my Splendid Giveaway.
There were 560 entries!
I asked my husband to choose a number between 1 and 560 for the winner and he said -
"Number 1, first in, best dressed."




You can visit Sheryl's blog here. I met her in Melbourne a few years back and can honestly say she's a really gorgeous lady from the inside out.
Congratulations Shez!!

Bless you all, and may your day be especially happy too.

hugs

Tea from Nana's pot...

From the time I was three till age 14 I mostly lived with my Nana and Pop in their tiny three-room walk-through flat. Childhood memories of those years often spill over into life now, decades later, and I think of that as a special legacy they left me. 

This week I've been talking a lot about tea, which has caused me to ponder what it is about the ceremony of tea time that I love so much - and that led me straight back in my mind to Nana and Pop and the thousands of pots I had happily shared with them.

I thought I'd share a little of that history with you today... 

In Nana's home we only ever drank tea as our hot beverage because coffee was thought to be something you drank when you were out, and cocoa just never appeared in her kitchen.

Each morning upon waking I would take my place at the beautiful, yet simply set Formica table, and await my first cup of tea. Always in china tea cups, and always white with two sugars. 

 Nana would set the table for breakfast as her final chore at the close of every day. I would listen to her setting our plates on a fresh tablecloth, the cutlery softly placed to the side and tea cups clinking as they were turned over on their saucers. When she was satisfied with her preparations the light switch would be flicked, darkness welcomed, and sleep embraced.

On a full moon night Nana’s kitchen table was magical to my young eyes. I would creep past my sleeping grandparents and through the doorway that led from their bedroom into the softly illuminated kitchen.

Atop a freshly laundered and pressed tablecloth, a delicate square of lace covered the cups, saucers, tea pot, plates and cutlery like a shimmering web, the moonlight dancing upon the silverware adding to the ethereal atmosphere. Often I’d pause by the table on my way back to the couch where I slept, and try to guess what breakfast Nana had planned for the morning. 

 

She never, ever, served a cold breakfast. It could be leftovers from the evening meal the night before, eggs and sausages with thickly cut charred toast, butter fried kidneys and bacon, or if Pop had just arrived home after a night shift at the wharf he’d be standing by the stove with the old frypan tilted to one side frying fresh potato chips in lamb fat. Nobody made freshly chipped potatoes like my dear old Pop, and Nana never set her hat to take that crown from him because it was such a blessing for her to sit and be the one served for a change.

Pop would cut a thick slice of bread and butter it generously before laying a half dozen plump chips diagonally across it and folding the bread across them so my little hands would not be burned as I gobbled up my favourite of all breakfasts.

Our teapot was large and metal, leftover from Nana’s days as cook in a pub after WW2, and she only ever used loose tea leaves. Nana made a point of teaching me her recipe for a good brew – before pouring in the boiling water add to the pot one teaspoon of tea for each person, and one for the pot. Once the brewing had begun an oversized hand-knitted tea cosy would cover the pot and the next step of this ceremony would be mine.

I was to turn the tea pot around and around, using another of her calculations - one turn for each person and one for the pot, and halve ther total.

Morning tea on weekends always offered the surprise of tea cake, buns, or biscuits with another pot of tea, as did afternoon tea when I arrived home from school.

Nana religiously served a leg of lamb or roast chicken for lunch on Sunday’s,  but Sunday night it was her custom to take the evening off, baking only a fluffy batch of scones to have with thick lashings of butter and her homemade jam. On Sunday nights it was also usual for us to drink our way through two large pots of tea whilst playing cards!

As I think back on my childhood it’s easy to see where my love for the ceremony of tablecloths, tea cups, and piping hot pots of tea in handmade cosies came from - Nana. 

Another favourite memory is when Pop would be working afternoon shifts so it would only be Nana and I for dinner. Sometimes she’d have a cheeky twinkle in her eye and ask me, “How about we skip dinner tonight and share a loaf of fresh baked bread between ourselves? I have a pot of strawberry jam, plenty of butter, and we can drink all the tea we like. Just you and me and we won’t tell Pop I didn’t cook a meal…”

Pop knew all about this and was chuffed that we shared this simple treat, but he never let on to me. It was a little game they played with me to create a special ‘Nana and Jennifer’ occasion and it lasted until I was well into my teens when I absently let slip I'd known for years that Pop knew exactly what we were up to.

To this day I cannot brew a pot of tea without remembering the taste of fresh bread, butter and jam, and Nana’s clear blue eyes smiling across at me over the teapot.

Those moments are forever stored in the treasure-chest of my heart.

 Day 3 of tea etiquette...

 

hugs

  

Nana's baked rice custard, and enamelware...

The best comfort food in the whole wide world for me is my Nana's baked rice custard.

I grew up in the Hunter Valley with a glut of milk all around us so it was the base for every dessert she made.

After her simple weekly meal rotation she'd serve either banana custard, bread and butter custard, plain baked custard, or this smooth and creamy baked rice custard. Sometimes she'd surprise Pop and I with some jelly (jello for my US friends) on the side - Aeroplane Jelly of course - but mostly she served it sweet and simply with love and a smile.

She made it two ways. One was baked with raw rice, and the other was made from cooked rice she'd set aside on the nights she served Pop and I big steaming bowls of curried sausages on beds of the pearly grain.

When I make Nana's custards they are always baked in an enamel tin, because that's how she did it, and anything that brings my senses back to that kitchen with her bustling about in a bright apron and chatting a mile a minute about life and flowers and the cat and cricket, is precious to the little girl heart deep inside me.
Over the years I've collected a handful of genuinely vintage green enamelware pieces, plus a few modern white ones you occasionally see in the supermarket. I guess they speak 'home' to my kitchen, no matter where we live...

Would you like to make Nana's custard too?

The first version is the one Mr E likes best as it's made from cooked rice and doesn't set quite as firm so has a thick, but bit runny, consistency.

You'll need -

2 eggs

2 tablespoons of sugar

500 ml (2 cups) of full cream milk

one teaspoon of vanilla extract

1/2 cup cooked Calrose (medium grain) rice

nutmeg

 some soft butter to grease the pan

Lay the rice along the base of a greased (with the butter) pan.

Beat the milk, eggs, sugar and vanilla with abandon until they're all mixed smoothly and a little fluffy on top. (about 90 seconds with gusto!)

Pour the custard mix over the rice and scatter nutmeg across the top...

Sit the tin inside a larger oven-proof dish that has water in it.

I use a wide pie plate. 

Just make sure the water comes about 3/4 of the way up the side of your custard dish, ok?

Bake in the oven at 160C (320F) for around 45 minutes. There should still be a little wobble in the centre of the custard when you shake the tin gently.

 Take it out of the oven, remove from the water bath, and allow to cool completely.

Mr E likes fruit with his rice custard so I made a big bowl of fresh fruit salad from mango, kiwis, peaches, plums, and watermelon...

This was our dinner on Tuesday night.

Delish!

 

Version 2: baked with raw Calrose rice

You'll need -

3 eggs

2 tablespoons of sugar

500 ml (2 cups) of full cream milk

one teaspoon of vanilla extract

2 tablespoons of RAW Calrose (medium grain) rice- soaked in water for an hour, then rinsed

nutmeg

 some soft butter to grease the pan

 Do everything as before, but scatter the raw rice over the base of your greased tin, and mix in three eggs instead of two.

Bake for just as long as the other.

This is a firmer custard (and it's also my favourite!).

There you are, Nana's baked rice custards - my number one comfort food.

I'd love to hear what recipe from the past makes your  heart pitter patter?

Why don't you don your apron, gather ingredients and start cooking....

Hugs