May - Planting in Faith
Dear Friends,
May is one of my favourite months.
There is a gentleness to this time of year that I have always loved. The urgency of summer has faded, and the frantic pace of harvest has softened into something steadier, more practical. The mornings arrive later now, wrapped in mist that lingers low across the paddocks, and by evening the light slips away before we’re quite ready to say goodbye to it.
This month, however, has been both beautiful and exhausting.
Weather has delayed our usual routines, stretching jobs that ordinarily have their own dependable rhythm. Days have blurred into one another as we worked around rain showers and muddy gateways, learning once again that farming asks for patience above almost everything else.
Perhaps that is why I love May so much.
There is humility in planting when the ground looks bare.
Corms tucked into cold soil ask for belief.
Nothing looks abundant yet and still, everything has begun.
In Bloom This Month
The cutting garden is beginning to rest. Blooms still flower, but they are changing now. Their centres open wide, petals soften, and colours fade into the gentler tones of autumn. The killing frost has still not arrived and each afternoon I find myself wandering slowly up and down the rows, secateurs in hand, collecting seed heads before the rain settles in.
There is a particular satisfaction in this task.
The small ritual of bringing them inside and spreading them across the kitchen windowsill to dry. The anticipation of discovering what they might become.
This year will be my first time growing dahlias from seed. Seasoned dahlia growers often describe it as feeling like Christmas as a child – never quite knowing what you are going to unwrap.
Every seed carries possibility.
Every seedling its own surprise.
And isn’t that one of the greatest joys of gardening? That even after years of tending the soil, there is still room for wonder.
The hardy annuals are settling their roots now, quietly anchoring themselves beneath the surface, while the ranunculus corms planted weeks ago hold entire bouquets in waiting. I love this hidden part of gardening.
The invisible work.
Beneath the surface, spring is already being written.
One of my favourite moments this month came in the company of my little nephews. They raced through the fading dahlia rows with the kind of delight only children possess, choosing blooms simply because they matched the colour of their hair or felt beautiful in their small hands.
Children have a wonderful way of reminding us to notice what we often overlook.
The joy of choosing flowers simply because they make us smile.
On the Farm
The rhythm of the farm shifts this month, more practical, more purposeful, as we prepare the ewes for the quiet stillness before lambing begins.
Shearing sits at the centre of May.
Usually, it unfolds over the course of a week. This year, the weather had other plans. Rain delayed us repeatedly, stretching the season into June and teaching us, once again, that the land keeps its own schedule.
In the days leading up to shearing, I begin my own preparations.
Freezers are inventoried.
Grocery lists are written.
Meals are planned.
There is comfort in these familiar rituals.
The children are always eager to be part of it, often negotiating passionately for a day off school. Often, they wait impatiently for the afternoon bus, then race down to the shed still in their uniforms, drawn by the promise of leftover afternoon tea and the easy camaraderie of the shearing team.
I’ve come to love my role as the shearer’s cook.
Morning tea arrives at 9:30am sharp in the shearing shed. There is always something sweet, slices, cakes and biscuits arranged on platters. This year, my 'Mrs Brown' Brownies has been the clear favourite. Alongside it are homemade sausage rolls, party pies and bacon and egg muffins.
There is something special about sitting down with a cup of tea at smoko.
The pause.
The laughter.
The stories shared between people who work hard together.
By midday the shearers come up to the house and I like to have something hearty waiting on the table.
Roast lamb with vegetables
Shepherd’s pie
Lasagna
Corned meat with cheesy white sauce.
Food that fills hungry stomachs and sends everyone back to the shed a little warmer than before.
At one o’clock the music starts up again, drifting up the hill from the shed, and freshly shorn ewes dart out beneath the catching pens.
It becomes my cue to begin again.
This year, however, I wasn’t only cooking.
Half of my days were spent in the shed working as a shed hand. There were certainly muscles aching that I didn’t know existed, but there was also satisfaction in being part of every aspect of the work.
Useful work has a way of grounding you.
In the midst of shearing, we squeezed in pregnancy scanning, beginning the morning
beneath a double rainbow.
Scanning is one of the most important jobs of the season, discovering which ewes are carrying lambs and whether they are expecting singles or twins.
These moments of preparation shape everything that follows.
How we allocate feed.
How we manage pasture.
How we care for the flock.
It is, in many ways, another act of planting in faith.
From the Kitchen Table
May calls for slow food.
By the time the children have been collected from the bus, homework finished, and sporting commitments navigated, darkness has already settled outside.
The slow cooker becomes one of my most valued companions.
Curries gently simmer throughout the day.
Casseroles perfume the house.
Food this time of year is less about impressing and more about comfort.
Meals that welcome everyone home.
Food that fills the house with warmth.
Mrs Brown’s Brownies
Ingredients
- 200g Dark Chocolate
- 200g Milk Chocolate
- 400g Butter
- 6 eggs
- 230g Plain Flour
- 60g Cocoa
- 440g Caster Sugar
- 250g White Chocolate Chips
- 250g Dark Chocolate Chips
Method (Thermomix)
- Set oven to 170 degrees celcius
- Melt the chocolate and butter, 60 degrees for 4min speed 1-2
- Add in the sugar and combine speed 5 for 5 seconds
- Add in the eggs, mix through on speed 5 for 5 seconds
- Add in the dry ingredients and mix on speed 5 for 5 seconds, scrape down the sides
- Fold in choc chips
- Pour into tin and bake till just cooked, test using temperature probe, should be 85 degrees celcius.
- Slice will seem soft in the centre but it will set once cool.
Gathered at Home
This is nesting season.
Candles lit before dinner.
Wool blankets folded over the arm of the sofa.
Books stacked beside the bed waiting for earlier nights and slower mornings.
Flowers indoors become fewer now, but perhaps all the more treasured because of it.
As the days shorten and our focus naturally shifts inside, I find myself making lists of the little projects I’d like to tackle over winter. Nothing particularly grand, just the small changes that help a house evolve alongside the family who live within it. Olive’s room is ready for a fresh coat of paint, she has been dreaming of wrapping her walls in the softest shade of pink, gentle and timeless, a room she can grow into while still holding onto a little childhood magic. Oscar has requested green for his own space, and I’m imagining earthy tones that feel both playful and calming, inspired by the paddocks just beyond our windows.
I’ve also been collecting samples and ideas for the office, finally settling on wallpaper that will transform it into a space that feels both beautiful and functional. A room for planning, writing and dreaming up all that the seasons ahead might hold.
There is something deeply satisfying about these quieter winter jobs. Cupboards emptied and organised. Drawers sorted, shelves dusted and restyled. Paperwork gathered and filed away as we prepare for the beginning of a new financial year. It’s less about perfection and more about creating order before another busy season begins.
Perhaps nesting is simply another form of preparation. The same instinct that has us planting corms beneath cold soil and scanning ewes before lambing arrives also calls us to tend our homes with care. To create spaces that comfort and restore us. To make room for the life we home to grow within them.
Beauty shifts inside.
Not extravagant.
Simply intentional.
Field Notes
Gardening teaches delayed reward.
You plant beauty long before you see it.
You tuck corms into cold earth, trusting they will emerge.
You save seed heads not knowing what surprises they may hold.
You prepare paddocks for lambs that have not yet arrived.
Much of life, I’ve realised, asks the same of us.
To continue showing up for the unseen work.
To trust the season we are in.
To believe that beneath the surface, even when nothing appears to be changing, roots are forming and something beautiful is already underway.
Until next month,
From the Posy Paddock