Love Grass and Jam Drops

Firstly, thank you. To everyone who reached out after the last post and offered to come and be part of the working bee on the farm—what a joy. I’m really looking forward to meeting everyone, sharing this space with you, and spending time together doing something meaningful.

Last weekend, our son Kobi flew off to Japan for a two-week holiday with a friend. He’s called and messaged a few times and it sounds like he’s having the most amazing time. It’s such a thrill watching him stretch out into the world like that.

Back here, things have eased a little. Maybe it’s the colder weather, or maybe it’s just where we’re at—but the pace feels slower, gentler. It’s been so lovely. Since moving here, we’ve started a little ritual — the #sunriseclub. Every morning at sunrise we sit on the front deck with a coffee, watching the birds wake and the world slowly come to life. It’s such a peaceful, grounding way to begin the day. We’ve had the fire going most days now, and the rhythm of our time has shifted into something warm and wintery. I’ve been leaning into it too—lots of slow-cooked meals, sticky date pudding with rum caramel sauce (because why not?), and a batch of jam drops, which are Benji’s favourites. Both recipes are from Donna Hay, and I’ll share them at the end of this post.

Benji and I brought out an old shelf from Brisbane—one he made years ago that had been sitting unused. It’s now by the front door of the farmhouse, home to muddy boots, garden trugs, baskets for harvesting, and a few of our most-used tools. I’ve also repurposed my dad’s old toolbox—the one he had before I was even born—to hold all sorts of little garden odds and ends. There’s something so grounding about surrounding ourselves with things that hold stories. Pieces from the past, woven into the daily rhythm of farm life.

We had some beautiful friends come and stay over the weekend. The kind of friends that make everything feel easy and full. We gave them a little tour of town, had lunch at the pub, cooked lots of delicious food, and sat around the fire chatting late into the night. I gifted one of them a crocheted scarf and ended up teaching her how to crochet by the fire. We drank wine, laughed hard, and talked deeply. My kind of weekend.

Earlier in the week, Benji and I netted the veggie patch. The cabbage moths have been absolutely relentless—every day I’d be out there plucking off caterpillars and inspecting every leaf. The plants were struggling, so I’m hoping the netting helps them bounce back. Fingers crossed.

I’ve also been working away on the paddocks. It might sound ridiculous, but I’ve started mowing the top half of the 40 acres with a ride-on mower. It’s completely covered in love grass—a persistent, overgrown mess that smothers the good stuff. The cattle will eat it when it’s short, but they avoid it when it’s long. We had an agronomist out a while ago who recommended slashing and mulching to help manage it, but since I don’t have a tractor, hiring someone to slash this much land would be incredibly expensive. So I’ve decided to slowly chip away at it myself. It’s oddly satisfying, and I’ve got this idea that by spring I’ll be able to start strip grazing the cattle. I’d also love to bring in some sheep, since they’ll graze down the grass and help fertilise the soil too.

Of course, I managed to get the mower bogged earlier in the week. There’s a little trench through one of the paddocks that the previous owner dug for drainage, and I somehow got the back wheels stuck in it. You should have seen Benji’s face when I came back up to the house and said, “Umm... I think I got the mower stuck.” Luckily it didn’t take much digging to get it back out.

In knitting news, I finally finished the hot water bottle cover using a free pattern I found on Ravelry—shades of pink and so cosy. And now I’ve started on a pair of gloves, though I have no idea what I’m doing. But I’m loving the challenge and the change of pace from all the beanies.

It’s been a week of slower days, small wins, and moments of connection. And really, that feels just right.

Tash xxx

Here are this week’s recipes that I used and loved…love to hear what delicious recipes or knitting projects you have been creating…?

Rum and Date Cake

https://www.donnahay.com.au/recipes/sweets/cakes/rum-and-date-cake-with-caramel-sauce

Jam Drops

https://www.donnahay.com.au/recipes/desserts-and-baking/cookies/jam-drops

Hot Water Bottle Pattern

https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/hot-water-bottle-cover-48

Focaccia and Persimmons

The past week has been a little bit of everything—in the best way. Life seems to be falling into a rhythm lately, moving between Brisbane and the farm. I spent a lovely few days in the city with the kids—soaking up time together, going out for lunch, and hosting bookclub. We just finished The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store—have you read it? I absolutely loved it. A gentle, powerful story with so much heart. I’ve just started listening to The Wedding People, another bookclub pick, and I’m really enjoying that too.

After a few days in Brisbane, I headed back out to Tenterfield to check on the gardens. I’d just planted out both Millers Lane and Bella Vista with winter seeds and seedlings—spinach, silverbeet, kale, broccoli, radish, rocket, parsley, coriander, cauliflower, and beets. In those early days, they need a bit of extra care—water, warmth, and a little attention so they don’t get too stressed. I’ll do a separate post soon about how I’ve been setting up the gardens, for anyone curious.

I brought our old cat Eli with me this time. Since Olive passed away a few months ago—his best little mate—he hasn't quite been the same. He really loved her. These days, he likes to stick close, so I’ve decided to start taking him out to Tenterfield with me whenever I can. He seems to really enjoy it. Most evenings he’s curled up on my lap, purring away… which, if he had his way, would be his full-time job.

On Friday night, Benji and I went to a pop-up pizza night run by our favourite barista in town. It was so good. I love seeing these creative little events popping up—there’s a real buzz building here. Thoughtful, talented people bringing their skills and ideas to the community. I said to Benji, how fortunate we are to witness the small shifts happening.

Most of my time over the past few months has been spent indoors at Bella Vista, painting and redecorating the farmhouse—which I absolutely love doing. I am nearly finished and figure whilst the Autumn weather is so beautiful I will started focusing on working outside in the gardens and paddocks and when the weather turns I can return to the jobs inside… I’ve just finished staining the second old church pew I found on Marketplace and restored. One now sits at the front of the house, the other at the back—perfect spots to perch with a beverage of your choice and take in the beautiful views. I also set up a compost bin, laid weed mat, helped move stones to make garden paths, and squeezed in some bread baking.

Speaking of bread—there’s a recipe I wanted to share with you. It’s my go-to focaccia, and I make it at least once a week (sometimes more). It’s simple, reliable, and always a hit—bookclub girls gave it rave reviews!

Tash’s Focaccia

In a big bowl, mix 5 cups of baker’s flour and 1 tablespoon of salt.

In a jug, stir together 2½ cups of warm water, 2 teaspoons of sugar, and 1 sachet of baker’s yeast. Leave it until it starts to foam—this means the yeast is active.

Add the liquid to the flour and mix well. Knead until smooth and bouncy.

In a clean bowl, pour in 4 tablespoons of olive oil, then add the dough. Cover and let it rise until doubled in size.

Using two forks, fold the dough over itself from either side, then transfer to a tray and let it proof again—until it spreads about a quarter of the way to the tray’s edges.

Heat your oven to 220°C. Drizzle olive oil over the top, then use your fingers like you’re playing piano to make those iconic dimples. I love sprinkling nigella seeds and salt over mine, but you can go wild with toppings.

Bake until golden and fragrant. So simple, so good.

Let me know if you try it, or if you have any questions. I’m no expert, but I love playing around with recipes and this one’s definitely a keeper.

Something else I’ve been experimenting with this week is hoshigaki—a traditional Japanese method of drying persimmons. I first came across them while travelling in Japan. You peel the fruit and hang them somewhere with sunlight and a bit of airflow for about four to six weeks, gently massaging them daily to help move the sugars around. I was planning to hang them under the eaves of the house, but with the concreter coming to do the deck, I shifted them out to the shed instead. They’re all strung up now, jiggling in the breeze like little orange lanterns. I just love the slowness of it. A small, sweet reminder of Japan right here at home. I’ll keep you posted on how they go..

Our eldest daughter Eden is flying in from Melbourne on Wednesday to stay for ten days—I can’t wait. Benji, the kids and I will spend a few nights out at Tenterfield and then head back to Brisbane to spend time with family.

If you’re getting a bit of a break over the holidays, I hope it’s filled with the things and people you love.

Love Tash xxx

Two Farms. One Dream

When we first stumbled across Tenterfield a few years ago, we had no idea how deeply we’d fall for the place. We were just visiting—chasing space, fresh air, and the kind of quiet you can actually feel in your bones. The moment we drove into Tenterfield, I fell deeply in love. We ended up buying a 5-acre block (Millers Lane) a few months later—a beautiful little patch of land with views that made us breathe a bit deeper.

Over the next couple of years, we built a tiny house (with big dreams of one day building a home), planted trees, and slowly carved out a kitchen garden. It became this really beautiful, grounding place for us—a retreat from city life and a space to grow food.

But something in us kept stirring. The more time we spent in Tenterfield, the more we fell in love—not just with the land but with the people, the community, and the quiet rhythm of life out here. We started dreaming bigger. We wanted to grow more food. To farm ‘properly’. To really commit to a piece of land and do something meaningful with it.

Late last year, we found her. Bella Vista. A 45-acre block just 15 minutes out of town. The kind of place that made my heart race the second we stepped onto it. We could see it all—veggie gardens, cows in the paddock, long lunches under the trees, workshops, a place to welcome people in and show them what’s possible. A place to grow real food for our family, friends, and the community.

We’ve spent the past few months renovating the house and building the kitchen garden. It’s been wild and exhausting and beautiful and so, so worth it.

Right now, we’re living between two worlds—Brisbane and Tenterfield. Two of our kids are in Brisbane, and spending time with them is everything to us. We go back and forth often, juggling this dance between city and country, family and farming. It’s not always easy, but it feels right for now.

Millers Lane is still such a special place to us. I’m working towards renting out the tiny house soon—so others can come and experience what we’ve built there, and feel some of the magic we feel when we’re on that land. It’s peaceful. It’s honest. It holds a lot of love.

We’ve just bought three cows for the property, which is a really lovely addition to the property. I think it’ll be really lovely for visitors—to wake up, have a cuppa on the deck, and see the cows grazing just over the fence.

And if you’re wondering why we’re doing all of this…

We love being in the country. We love the stillness, the seasons, the sound of the birds... I love so much being in the garden with dirt under my nails and sun on my back. Growing food brings me this deep, steady happiness—it’s like something in me exhales when I’m planting, tending, harvesting.

Benji loves it too—especially when there’s a good design or build project on the go. He’s always sketching ideas or tinkering with something, and being out here gives him the space to dream things up and bring them to life.

But it’s not just about the joy it brings me. I’m also deeply worried. I’m scared. And yes, sometimes I’m angry. Our food systems are in real trouble—they’re fragile, broken in places, and so disconnected from both people and the land. I feel this strong pull to do something, to be part of the solution, even in small ways.

This farm, for us, is about hope. It’s about showing what’s possible when we reconnect to the land and our food. It’s about creating a space where others can learn, grow, and feel inspired to be part of the change too.

It’s not perfect. It’s definitely not easy. But it’s real. And it matters.

Thanks for being here and following along. I’m really glad you’re here.

Tash xxx