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beneath your beautiful

generations of women

I recently was the guest writer on a beautiful blog Tea Cups Too by Em, my post was called Beneath Your Beautiful.

Em is one of the best Mums I know. Her blog shines light beautifully onto the season of motherhood.

Parts of this post are extremely poignant for this Mother’s Day. Link through to this blog and have a read today.

I remember being a teenager (okay maybe young adult) and very early on the morning my Dad was to leave for the airport, I ran up to him and begged that he bring me a Russian doll home.

Legend states that each of these dolls have many smaller versions of ourselves within them. Each doll representing the seed of generation that each of us as women carry within us.

I have never been more aware of this as I am today, (26 weeks pregnant with my second child, a little girl). I am awakened to the fact that she holds the potential to future women in my family within her tiny frame and the lineage continues on.

Woman to girl, little girl, to tiny newborn baby.

I have always been someone who attempts and is drawn to outrageously brave things. Dreaming of writing a book, okay let’s do it, Travelling to the middle east as a 20 year old by myself, check, Leading groups of people into slums in Asia, bucket list item tick!

Despite all this, I have never been more filled with fear and doubt about anything since I embarked upon the journey of motherhood.

Whether you are a mother or not, looking at the generational layers in our hearts and confronting the quiet words that mock us, is an important thought process on this day.

What is beneath your beautiful?

Read the blog.

Listen to the song.

And write and reflect on what your response is.

This will be an amazing exercise to do on a day like today.

Mothers day, can bring out so many different expectations and emotions in all of us.

Happy days.

Deep days.

All my love

Amanda

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no knead bread

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Last night our extended family got together for a family night of epic proportions.

You see I have at least seventy in my extended family. Cousins, Aunty’s, Uncles, nephews, nieces, husbands, wives etc etc.

My mum’s brothers and sisters get together on the first friday of the month and sometimes their kids (that’s me) tag along.

One of my cousins Ali made three loaves of bread last night, that we’re amazing. Her recipe came from here.

So easy even her gorgeous daughter Jessica can do it!

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Sometime very soon, I am going to have a go.

No Knead Bread

500 grams or 15 ounces bread flour (3 cups)
10 grams or 2 teaspoons kosher salt
3 to 4 grams or 1/2 teaspoon active dry or instant yeast
430 grams or 13 ounces water (1-1/2 cups plus 2 tablespoons)
plenty of extra spelt flour or extra bread flour for coating work surface and during proofing
Combine all the ingredients except the extra flour or bran for dusting in a large bowl. Mix it with a wooden spoon still all ingredients are thoroughly combined.

Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and allow the dough to rise at warm room temperature for about 14 to 20 hours.

Heavily flour your work surface with spelt flour or bread flour. Pour and pull out the dough, which will spread into a blob onto your work surface. Let it rest there for ten to twenty minutes.

From here on [these final steps are verbatim from Steingarten’s recipe] handle the dough very gently so that the structure of internal bubbles is left undisturbed and the dough is not compressed. Now, slide your fingers, palms up, under the blob and stretch it into a rough square about 12 inches on a side. Dust it with a little spelt flour. Let the dough rest, loosely covered with the same piece of plastic wrap, for a half-hour. Even longer is better.

Rub the inside of the rising basket with ample quantities of spelt flour [Note from MR: you can use a banneton or a bowl lined with a heavily floured cloth napkin]. Now form the loaf: Bring one corner of the square of dough about 2/3 of the way to the opposite corner, gently pressing it down. Repeat with the next corner, clockwise; continue with the other two corners. Now, you’ll have a puffy square, looking perhaps like a Danish pastry. If a flap of dough sticks out in any direction, fold it halfway over the loaf. Amply dust the loaf with spelt flour.

Now, with both hands, gently lift this puffy package of dough, invert it, and lower into the center of the rising basket. Sprinkle the top of the dough, now really a round loaf, with a little spelt flour. Cover loosely with plastic wrap, tucking it in here and there. Let it rise for 2 ½ hours.

Halfway through the rise, put the casserole into the oven, on the highest shelf that will accommodate it; lean the casserole cover against it; and turn the temperature to its highest setting, probably 500-550 degrees F/260-288 degrees C. In my oven, to avoid excessive direct heat from burning the bottom of the loaf, I first put a baking stone on the oven shelf and three layers of silicone insulators.

When another ninety-minutes have passed (for a total of 2 ½ hours’ rise), open the oven and pull out the oven shelf. Remove the plastic wrap from the rising basket and loosen the loaf all around from the basket. Bring it over to the casserole, and steadying the loaf with your other hand, invert the loaf into the center of the casserole. This may take some practice. Shake the casserole sideways if the loaf needs to be neatened. Cover the casserole, close the oven, and bake for 30 minutes.

Uncover the casserole and bake for another 20 to 30 minutes until the loaf is a handsome, very dark brown. The loaf will be loose in the casserole and easy to remove, most easily by inverting it. Let the loaf cool, bottom down, on the rack for two hours, when it will be barely warm to the touch.

Honestly the bread was amazing.

Breaking Bread with the ones we love couldn’t be any sweeter.

Speak tomorrow.

Amanda

 

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Guest writer

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Each Friday for the month of May I am a guest writer at Green Couture.

Green Couture was started by my good friend Kate Smithson, when she shifted way down south Western Australian and couldn’t purchase what she loved in her small town of Albany.

Friday Posts:

Winter Woolen Hues

Paper Planes

From pillows, to recycled loveliness, to books, lamps…need I say anymore.

I’d love you to join me over there as I talk about all things winter on Fridays this month.

Textures that inspire me.

Creative moments that comfort me.

Today’s post is all about the power of paper to transform a room.

Have an inspired weekend.

Love

Amanda

(Paper plane pic above was found on Pinterest, highlighting a little boys room from Perth, Western Australia from Apartment Therapy)

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Create

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On the 14th of June I am speaking at a women’s event called ‘Create’ for essence a women’s organisation.

Everyone can be creative.

It is not just a personality type or a giftedness.

There is a creative legacy everyone can bring and leave in our world.

What is your creative bent?

make it

I can’t wait.

If you would like to come along and hang, I will be 37 weeks pregnant so if you are a midwife maybe I could buy you a free ticket! { Ha jokes. }

Tickets are $10

To buy a ticket today click here: Create Tickets online

9:45am- 12noon

Mount Pleasant Baptist Community College

497 Marmion Street, Booragoon WA

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going solo

going solo two

going solo one

On Tuesday night I spoke at an event with hundreds of creative people in the city. My little man Max had a sleep over at his Nan’s house and my husband was on night shift.

I went out for ice-cream with some friends afterwards and then drove the long drive home.

As I drove home, I remembered.

I remembered what it was like to drive home to an empty house.

I remembered the vulnerability of speaking with hundreds and arriving home to the company of one.

I remembered what it was like going solo.

At first I snuggled up in bed, the first time alone overnight in my little shack by myself since I was married and I was a little excited.

No early morning wake up.

No late night wrestle for who had the bounty of the blanket.

No snoring. (smile)

Then I laid awake and I remembered.

It is easy to forget the places where new seasons dwell and the pain of the old fades till we remember no more.

It is easy to quickly forget those miracles that were so fresh and real, as the dulling of day to day life takes away the sting of their brilliance.

It is moments like this that we are grateful for the now.

Year upon year.

Wedding after wedding.

Moment after moment, where I rocked up to a party by myself wondering, when ever will I have a plus one to pair alongside so I am not the only one alone.

Again.

I enjoyed my night of quiet, but more than that I was profoundly stilled by the reality of how much my days have changed and how every single thing I begged for has come to pass.

Despite the daily struggles.

I am a very blessed woman indeed.

He is faithful.

He has turned my mourning into dancing.

Amanda