The Frog That Changed My Life!

...well, my way of thinking anyway!

On the day of Gabe's first birthday, I saved someone's life and in return they gave me some invaluable advice that changed my way of thinking and probably changed the course of my future. 

The life I saved, was that of a green frog. Strangely, in the south of France, green frogs are hard to come by and you usually only see toads. So, to stumble upon a green frog in early November was more than just luck... it was meant to be and not only for me, but for that little froggy too.

Meet, Lulu.

 We rented the townhall to host Gabe's party and it was there that I found her, in the oven of all places,  clueless as to how she had gotten there! She was covered in fluff and bits of hair, so I gave her a wash and decided to take her home and release her in my garden. I was really glad that I checked inside the oven before just turning it on!

The next morning, Gabe and I ate leftover chocolate cake for breakfast and played inside for most of the morning, as it was raining. It was perfect frog weather. And, for jumping in mud puddles! By 11am, the rain had stopped and we decided to go and say good morning to our new found friend, but she was no where to be seen and that made my heart sink to my stomach. I wanted Gabe to meet the little life that I had saved, because, although she was only tiny, I wanted him to understand that everyone's life has value and that everybody has something to teach us, even small, green, frogs are special!

Later that day, the sun looked as though it was going to make an appearance and while Gabe was still dreaming sweet dreams, I decided to have a cup of tea outside on the front verandah, with my other baby, Isabelle {my cat, my black beauty}. I sat down in my chair, next to my roses and watched as the sun struggled to shine through a mass of purplish-grey clouds when next to me, amongst my succulents, I heard a little, two syllable croak. It actually sounded like a 'Thankyou'!

One of my pots of succulents and Isabelle.

 I stared at her. She stared at me. I sipped me tea. She didn't move. She didn't try to hide. She just sat there, next to me until I had finished my tea, then she delicately made herself invisible in the waxy leaves. 

That night, before I fell asleep, my mind drifted to that little froggy. I saw her when I closed my eyes. She was sitting next to me again, on the front veranda. Only, this time she wasn't in my pot full of succlents, she was sitting next to me on a mini-replica of my black, iron chair. She was wearing red lipstick, a pearl necklace, pink slippers and had a small cup of tea for herself. She said to me...

'You need to do MORE of what makes YOU happy! If you dont know what that is just yet, you need to find it and chase it' ... then she asked me if I had any lemon and we started talking about shades of red lipstick. 

I know it's weird. Crazy even. And it sounds completely rediculous now that it's in type, but, I think of her a lot whenever my motivation starts to dwindle. It doesn't really matter to me that it was a frog that gave me those words, all that matters is that I heard them; I got the message.

The next morning, I sat out side in the freezing cold drinking a cup of green tea {with lemon in it} hoping that she would pop her little head out and croak good morning, but she didn't. Nor the next day. Or the one after that. I did seen her again, on the odd occasion and in the same pot of succulents. She did pretty much the same thing each time I saw her, she sat there, staring for a while, then ever so daintily, made herself a part of the waxy plants.

My succulents!

That December, I escaped the French winter and took Gabe back to Australia to spend Christmas with my baby sis. We returned to France in February and I never saw my little froggy again. 

There have been times when Gabe and I have been exploring outside and he's yelled out, 'Look Mummy, a frog'! My heart has skipped a beat, I've rushed over to him only to find a baby toad! Sometimes, when I take a moment to myself just to breath, I sit outside and occasionally hear a small croak from my pot of succulents. I know it wouldn't be her, but I like the thought of it all the same. Maybe it's her froggy ghost checking up on me, making sure that I'm taking her advice!

So, today, this post is a dedication to her. It's my fourth consecutive post and blogging has been something that I have been wanting to do for such a long time. Plus, I have Scrumptious Little Things up and running now, so I am finally starting to achieve something. I've found my niche and chasing it. I dont know if my four posts makes me an official 'blogger' just yet, but I feel like I am doing something; something real. And, sharing something - yes, it may be a story about a lipstick-advice-giving-froggy but either way, this thing that I'm doing... it feels really good. 

Banana Brake {Bread + Cake = Brake}

Banana Bread is one of my favourite things to make and eat! It is something that everyone in the family loves and something that I make regardless of whether I am {trying} to diet or not. Not that I diet, but I do try to eat things in moderation. I even eat things in moderation, in moderation - it's a vicious cycle!

Usually, I always have the ingredients for this in the cupboard, so if I am feeling like a sweet treat that's not too indulgent, it's my go-to thing to make. Also, if I have some bananas in the fruit basket that are going to go black, I throw them in the freezer to use at a later date.

I have experimented with this recipe for the last seven years and in several different ways. I've attempted the low fat to no fat versions - and they were ok, but this is - in my opinion, the perfect recipe for Banana Bread and it will leave all the others that you have tried for dust - even Starbucks, Gloria Jeans and Gosh Coffee! 

So why do I call it a Banana Brake? Well, the title is pretty self explanitory. It's not a bread and is in fact more like a cake, but I beleive that cakes should be frosted so for arguments sake, we'll call it a Brake. Or if you prefer, you could live on the edge and call it a Cread {Cake + Bread = Cread} - but that doesn't sound like it should be eaten, now does it?! 

Mini Banana Brakes! 

Ingredients: 

• 1 1/4 cup ripe bananas - mashed 

• 1 teaspoon lemon juice{this is to keep the bananas from going brown, but as I use bananas that I have frozen, they are brown anyway!}
• 1 3/4 cup flour 
• 1 1/2 cups brown sugar - packed 
• 1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda 
• 1/2 teaspoon salt 
• 2 eggs 
• 1/3 cup buttermilk 
• 1/4 cup oil 
• 1/2 cup apple sauce 
• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract 
• 1 1/2 tbs Cinnamon 
• 1 cup chopped walnuts 

I'm not a fan of washing up {no, I dont have a dishwasher at my place} so I try to use only the essential utensils.

Mash the bananas and mix everything together in a bowl, as you would for any other cake. Pour the mix into a greased loaf tin and sprinkle a few walnuts on the top. 

Bake in an oven on low to medium heat, or at 180° for 35 - 45 minutes, depending on your oven. I say this because all ovens are different and since you are the one who cooks with it, you know it better than anyone else.

The last few times that I've made this, I've divided the mix amongst four small, greased, aluminium loaf tins. They took half the time to cook and I ended up freezing two of them - which I still haven't eaten yet! 

Leave to cool on a cake rack or eat warm with some cinnamon butter {1 tbs butter, 1/2 tsp cinnamon, 1/2 tsp vanilla sugar, mix together, spread on warm Banana Brake}... and, enjoy!!

A Different Kind of Journal

A few years ago, a friend suggested to me {via email} that I should start a blog and share with the world my quirky stories about my new french life in the south of France. At the time I laughed it off, but the idea stayed tucked away in the corners of my mind. 

At the top of a bell tower, looking over a village.

At that time, I had been living in France {permanently} for almost a year and was still trying to get my leg over that bi-lingual wall! The two years before that, I had been going back and forth between France and Australia chasing the summers and hiding from the cold. I had noticed a lot of cultural differences between the french and english-speakers, that I had not read about in any book. I grew to feel very frustrated with life in France, the french population {in general} and the fact that I could never escape the label of being a foreigner. I needed a place to vent my frustrations and write about the very unbelievable observations that still to this day, leave me at a loss for words. 

Picking melons after a run.

Back then, if I wasn’t planting seeds, picking melons, or working on a market, I would pass my time day-dreaming; writing in journals, and taking pictures of butterflies and wheat fields.

I love reading back through my journals and I still remember those quiet moments of solitude, when the world had stopped turning, so that I could be alone, in the moment with my thoughts. 

These butterflies are everywhere in summer!

A lot of the entries were about things that had happened at markets or on the farm, with Mathieu’s family. A lot were funny, jaw-dropping-OMG-did-that-really-happen moments; but a lot were also sad. I was extremely homesick and missing my beautiful family and friends, my beloved Sydney and wondering why the hell I came here in the first place… oh yeah, love.

My favourite city in the world!

It’s a really hard thing, moving to a foreign country; espescially when you have gone from a glistening, vibrant city - out to the sticks and where you don’t speak the language or understand the culture. It’s nearly impossible to be yourself when you cant make yourself understood. As time passes, you struggle to remember what you used be like – didn’t I used to be funny? 

Lavender field towards the lake at Esparron.

 I hated working on the markets. I felt constant angst because I couldn't understand a damn word that was being said to me! You would think that the process of buying a melon would be a simple one and trust me; only the French could complicate this situation. They would want to know the variety, the quality, the weight, is it good, is it sweet, how long it will last, do they keep it in the fridge, is it male, is it female, was it picked today, where is it grown, am I the producer, is it certified organic, is it grown in a tunnel or in a field??? The questions were endless and so was the humiliation of not being able to answer a single one!

A lot of the time, I would meet lovely people and once they understood that my French was not good, even non-existent, they would pull a little trick out of their hat and speak in English. I have discovered along my travels that most French people keep this one hidden up their sleeve. They would ask me how I wound up in France. They would listen contently to my reply, with warm smiles on their faces... 'I came here for love', I would say in my sweet, little, Aussie voice and they would buy some melons and be on their way. I loved meeting people like that, because the rest of the time, I met some not so lovely people, who fit every horrible stereo-type ever written about the French.

I would get home from the markets exhausted from listening to people and trying to decipher words and their meanings.

One grey day at Cotignac market, a woman in her mid 50's came to buy a melon. At first, she asked how much it was for one. I replied {in French}, 'It's 2€ for one, or 5€ for 3'... the smile on her face dropped to the ground when she heard my accent and she went on to ask me several questions, to which I did not understand and could not answer. She searched through her purse for a single 2€ coin, and before placing it in my hand, she said {in English}, 'It disgusts me that there are foreigners working in my country who can not even speak the language'! And with that, she pushed the coin into the palm of my hand, trying to avoid any actual contact with my skin and went on her way. 

The old caves at Cotignac.

I stood there in shock until she eventually disappeared into the crowd. As mean and as hurtful as she was, she actually did me a favour as she gave me the nudge that I needed to focus on learning the French language, all by myself. I went home that day, exhilerated and full of energy. I put labels all around the house with both the french and english word, if it was masculine or feminie and it's plural form. I was on fire and seeing them everyday, I started remembering.

Today, I speak quite well and have really progressed in the last three years or since my son, Gabe, was born. I am thankful that I met that woman, and when I think about her, I think about how far I have come since then.

Learning to speak another langauge has been my greatest challenge and my greatest achievement, however, it is no longer my greatest obstacle... being a Mother is. But, that is something that I cherish more than anything else. And you can see why!

The Boy!

Reading back over those journals from years ago, I have changed a lot. My feelings, my way of thinking; I feel all grown up. These days, I am one of the locals and a Mama. I don’t write in journals anymore {well, I guess this blog is kind of a journal} – but I still day-dream and take pictures of butterflies & wheat fields. 

Scrumptious Little Things

Scrumptious Little Things came to life in the spring of 2012. The five, long, hard years prior to this, I had been working with Mathieu; growing organic fruit & vegies and selling them at daily provençal markets. I wanted to start a small business of my own, one where I didn't have to worry about getting my hands dirty or being stung by wasps. One where I could bring together all of my passions such as photography, sewing, embroidery, jewellery-making and paper-crafts.

Selling melons at a market.

In between looking after my son, my parents and doing odd jobs here and there on the farm for Mathieu, I began working on small projects that, at the time, would be for myself or friends and family.  I would make little bracelets of silk ribbon and fresh water pearls; jewellery purses; felt-flower brooches that could be added to hats or winter coats; greeting and thank you cards and lavender heat-bags... not to mention the journal full of ideas roughly scribbled down for future use.

The Birdy Purse - perfect for small bits of jewellery!

One cold winter, a neighbour who had seen some of my 'little things', asked if I would make him some invitations for his wife's birthday. I made a couple of mock invites and showed them to him. He picked the one he liked, gave me all the details and off I went. At the time, I wasn't really focusing on what I was going to charge him for doing them, I was just thrilled that someone was paying me to do something that I enjoyed doing. The day that I delivered them, he asked if I had thought about what I would like to be paid. I pondered the question for a moment and before I answered him, he had placed 250€ in my hand. After the initial shock had passed and I managed to say thank you, I left his house thinking, 'hmm, now this is something that I could do'! I have done a few different invitations since then, both hand made and computer generated.

Computer generated invitation.

Last year, however, the planets aligned and I discovered a true passion of mine. One that I was to later learn, was actually a family tradition. Soap making. I was destined to do it!

I found a book on my shelf that I had bought in my early 20's {I was a member of the Double Day book club and the starting-out offer, was 5 books for $1 each. As a lover of books and reading, I joined up as many times as I could. One of the books that I bought, was 'The Art of Soap Making'. It was a beautiful book, full of glorious photographs of delicious looking handmade soaps} and I decided to give it a go. I found an online supplier of all the goodies that I needed to start out and made my first batch of lavender soap. Unfortunately, it had gone rancid and was a huge blunder. But, I tried again, and the second time was a charm. The more I made, the more confident I became and now, I kind of feel like a pro - although really, I am far from that!

The perfect lavender soap!

So, along with my new found skill, I was ready to put bundle everything together and pretty it up into a neat, little package - all I needed was a name. But that was simple! I already had the 'little things' part, because once when asked by someone at a market, 'what is it you actually do', my response was this - 'I make... little things'. 'Scrumptious' is a word that I have always loved the sound of, so, I just put the two parts together and it seemed to just roll off my tongue.

My precious, little man!

If you would like to see some of the things I make, this is the link to my Facebook page:

https://www.facebook.com/scrumptiouslittlethings

You can also follow me on Instagram:

http://instagram.com/scrumptious_little_things

I dont have an Etsy shop set up as yet, but it's on my 'To Do List' for sometime over the next fortnight.

And that is the story of how Scrumptious Little Things came to be.