Tuesday, 9 February 2016

Recipe: Three Ingredient Blackberry Jam

I found some blackberry’s at my local small supermarket today so The Boy and I got to work trying to make some Jam that doesn’t use the bucket loads of sugar that traditional jam making uses.

I thought of two ingredients that I know turn jelly like when liquid is added… Linseed's & Chia seeds. I didn’t think that the kids would appreciate linseed's to start with, so we stuck with the chia for the time being.

We had 300gm of fresh blackberries, put them in a saucepan on medium heat and stirred gently until the berries had ‘melted’.

We added not quite a tablespoon of honey, just to take a little of the sourness away that berries sometime have. Mix it straight into the saucepan of the warm berry mixture.

Then the magic ingredient... Two tablespoons of chia seeds. Stir through the berries, pop into a jar and you’re done. All up it took about 20 mins and now that it is cooled down it is very near the same consistency of normal Jam, and tastes just as good as well.

Please note, that this Jam will only last a week or two at max so only make enough for that time frame. Add a few more chia seeds if you find your consistency is too runny.

We will be experimenting with other fruits over the next few days, I feel like Jam might be on the menu more than it has been now we have a solution for the processed sugar.

Wednesday, 27 January 2016

"I've Just Had Enough"

Children are like little sponges, soaking up their surroundings. But they soak up everything, the good and the bad.

Photo of the bush-fire smoke filled sky in our part of the universe, because "I've just had enough' of this as well ;)

We swear in our house, some mediocre words. Some that shouldn't be said. I never used to, even saying the odd 'S*!t' would make me sweat but now they flow easier on my tongue. I'm not quite sure how they evolved to be easier to use. But I guess we are lucky in the fact that the kids don't echo these words. Maybe I don't actually use them as much as I think that I do.

There is one phrase though that chilled me a little bit the other day, something that could be heard and not even given a second thought.

The poppet was playing in her bedroom which shares a joining door to our study. She was rocking on her rocking chair talking on a makeshift mobile phone made up from an old school game-boy.

Oh man was I giggling at the sentences she was coming up with, talking in her 'I think I sound like a grown up' voice. Until one sentence struck me...

'I've Just Had Enough!!'

I stopped what I was doing and sat there like a scene in a movie, you know the ones where you see a snippet of past occurrences fly by? That was me, it was probably a few seconds but felt like an eternity.

She was echoing me. I say that all the time. To be honest I don't know what I have actually had enough of, it is just my go to statement when things get a bit tough.

Kids are fighting, Bedrooms are messy, whole house looks like we have had a natural disaster inside. What ever it is that seems to be getting me a bit down, 'I've just Had Enough' is my go to sentence. It sounds so innocent reading it on a screen, but hearing it come from my 5 year olds mouth was a different story.

In the process of writing this post, my little poppet and I went to the shop together to get some milk, just before we left I interrupted the 5th squealing marathon for the day, I found myself standing in the supermarket talking to her about it and there I was again saying 'I've had enough' of the squealing. Even spoken calmly it was a tainted sentence for me.

I'm probably going to say it a thousand times more, at least I'm aware of it now. It's like my sub-conscious thinks that it will fix things, that that one statement will stop the screaming or clean the house or give me a little extra help around the house. But it won't. It's kind of like an empty promise to myself. Instead of echoing that empty promise I need to proactively make situations easier on myself, work out solutions rather than crying woe is me by saying that I have just had enough. Because if the time ever comes that I really am at a breaking point then it will almost be like the boy who cried wolf, hey?

It just got me thinking how our children are very much the echo of ourselves, the echo comes back a little weaker but still there. The same I guess could be said for our bad habits that we are most likely not on purpose teaching to our children even when we do have their very best interests at heart.

Friday, 15 January 2016

52 Weeks 16' | 2

A combined portrait for week 2. A new game with funny noises on the slide we claimed from the rubbish dump. I love how it is capturing the essence of the kidlets personalities.

Sunday, 10 January 2016

Sunday Review | Be Fearless

How is it the second Sunday of a brand new year already? I guess it happens in the very same way that most of the things that I dream up or even try to accomplish slip past me. I've always had a fear of failure, a fear of failing to live up to people's expectations or the worst, a fear of failing myself. And sometimes, it really means a big full stop in many things that I set my mind, my heart and my soul to. So by stopping with the fear of failing, before even getting things really started the essence of failure has made me stumble.

It's easy to set goals, to put thought into accomplishing things but setting goals doesn't do the work for you. Pursuing, trying and sometimes even possibly having a mistake along the way are what gets things accomplished.

That is where this weeks quote gains momentum from. I found this a long time ago and it has always stuck in the back of my mind, Be Fearless, Be Fearless of myself.

My year , eight days in has a good momentum. I'm always holding back, so let this be the year of loosening my reins a little, not being such a harsh critic to my own soul, the year of really setting my soul on fire.

To download quote, right click and save as. Only for personal use. Copyright Little Indie Tribe 2016

Friday, 8 January 2016

52 Weeks 16' | 1


A portrait of each of my children, once a week, every week. 


Mister, Mister. With the weight of being a toddler on his little shoulders. I love you so very much my littlest mr. Even if a beautiful sunset and the impromptu trip to the lake brings your frown out.


Oh little poppet. The sun showing off your fiery glow. So sweet and so little yet a little cracker waiting to go.



My boy. The Boy. To fast, what can I say. If 9 feels like 19 then I hate to imagine what 19 feels like. Slow down my boy.

Friday, 16 October 2015

Introducing the Beginnings of Our Summer Line '15/16


Summer is well and truly in the air here in our little corner of the globe. We have been super busy wading through our fabric supplies to find some great prints for our summer line. Featuring lots of beautiful vintage fabrics we are excited at what is coming out of the little indie tribe studio at the minute. I don't know about you all but I know that my little poppet loves to dress pretty, but climbs the highest trees she can find, which can be a little difficult when in a long flowey dress. So I have kept this in mind while creating our girls pieces. Most of our items are very limited in stock, creating items from vintage fabrics means only a small selection, so when realised you will have to get in quick. It's so hard not to want to keep every item.




Ava 22 

ava 55 
Launching on the First of November.

Saturday, 12 September 2015

Two Pink Lines

Disclaimer: This post deals with the topic of miscarriage. It is a personal account, nothing medical about it. It involves graphic speech and the female body parts. I just need to share it, I need to get it out so that I can heal.



Two pink lines. The promise of hope, excitement and joy. Maybe a little apprehension and a ‘wtf’ moment, but still the excitement. Or so I thought.

There is never going to be a day that those two lines mean the same to me again.

Miscarriage, only a word until you experience it yourself. And then it's your life, consuming you physically and emotionally each and every moment of your day. It even bursts its way into your sleep. You go about a day thinking that you are finally getting on top of things and then a kitten cries on a funny You-Tube video and the tears start falling again.

I'd never experienced 'spotting' while pregnant with my other three children. So when I first discovered a little something down there whilst going to the toilet, I didn't really know what to do or what to think. So I googled it, as we all do these days. A little brown, that's ok, its 'old blood'. No cramping?? You’re fine.

When you are actually experiencing a medical problem and attend a hospital, things seem so 'clinical'. As I found out on my first trip that day. Living remote and having no access to ultrasound technology locally, with-out pain or cramping they seemed pretty optimistic, monitored for a little, all stats fine, head to the bigger hospital in the morning for an ultra-sound check up. Dot points checked off the list. A million thoughts race through your mind. Some terrible, some over the top optimistic. ‘Maybe I'm pregnant with twins, people with twins spot a little at this stage in pregnancy’ (or so google told me)

An hour and fifteen minutes of travel the next day felt like 3 hours, a full bladder and a sinking feeling in my 'gut' of impending doom. A first scan of a growing baby that sends all those hormones into over drive, waiting 5 minutes for them to call you into your appointment feels like an hour, your boobs tingle (well mine always did, especially after my first) your stomach chases butterflies and maybe even a tear of happiness wells in your eyes. This time I sat in that waiting room, hoping that it would take a long time, because if something was wrong, it was the last little bit of hope that I could hold onto.

Jumping up onto that table, my boobs didn't tingle, my eyes were dry and my stomach was still. I glanced at the screen and saw a little being there but nothing else. No little flutter of a heart, no little tadpole movements. Just stillness and silence. Silence can be the most deafening sound. It was then that the tears came, silently, but they were there. A second Dr enters the room to double check, no words needed to be spoken my heart knew then what my body already knew.

I was left in that room for a few moments, to try and pick myself up for a walk round to emergency ready to start on one of the most emotional roller-coasters of my life, in a waiting room full of the sick, injured and those that had the sneezes and thought they should be there. An audience to watch your world crumble. Almost 5 hours worth of crumbling for nothing that day, taken into a new 'public' cubicle in emergency to again have an audience to my falling, to have a Dr ask why are you here after being sent around from another section of the hospital. No reading of notes, no compassion just straight up facts. Sent home with nothing, no follow up, no anything, told to attend Dr if I am feeling ill at all.

If there was one good thing to the day my world crumbled, was opening up my door to a very trusted friend. All I had sent to her was an emoticon of a thumbs down, and here she was with a bunch of daffodils and two plastic bags of goodies. Ice-Cream, Chocolate, Chips. Frozen home-cooked meals and while most would think a little strange, a packet of pads. It was that packet that made me realise, that even in our darkest days some thing shines out to let us know that things will be ok. Because only the very best of a friend, could give you a 'gift' such as a packet of pads and warm your heart. It broke it a little that I needed them, but it was like a little band-aid at the same time, you still have that hurt underneath but a temporary little cover to hide it away and protect it.

At 10 weeks pregnant, when you miscarry it's not just like having a period. You cramp, like mini labour pains, you bleed, you pass clots and 'matter'. Each and every time you visit the toilet, your brain tries to switch off but your heart cries at the thought of what you are flushing each and every time.

This first week of my new battle has seen a few trips to hospital. Needles because of my blood type, follow up Ultrasound and specialist appointment. Even though I'd been bleeding, that second ultrasound was as much of a crush as the first, maybe they got it wrong. Maybe everything is ok. People without thinking can be so cruel, even medical personnel. '10 weeks?? Gee, that's late to miscarry' (quote, second Ultrasound technician) 

I have one word of advice for people when someone you know or love is suffering. Sometimes, things are better left unsaid if you really don't know what to say. Sometimes your presence or just knowing you are there is enough.

I've been 'lucky' enough, if I can call it that to have a wonderful gynecologist who is willing to let me try not to have a surgery. I am retaining left over 'matter' but am so sick of feeling violated that I don't want the trauma of going under for surgery, to wake up the same empty, sad and not pregnant.

Through all of this, I've had the wonderful support of my friends and family, I might not of replied to messages. But they were read and appreciated. I don't feel like talking about it most of the time, heck I don't feel like talking about anything most of the time at the moment. Some days I just feel like sleeping and being sad. My body is having a 'crash' of hormones. I'm tired, I'm cranky. I'm in physical pain and I'm hurting emotionally. Thank-you to my friends that have been sad with me, thank-you for showing me your tears. It makes it feel like it meant something to someone other than just me, like it mattered. It makes it feel like it really was there and even though I never really got to be congratulated, it makes me feel that people cared about it, not just me.

And what comes next? I don't even know. I still have little parts of what was going to be, left inside me so my healing both physical and emotionally can't even begin properly yet. I can't imagine where I will be in a year, maybe holding on the what if's, maybe not. All I do know, is if I ever get the chance to see those two lines again, that it will be possibly the best and worst time of my life. Instead of the stereotype of waiting till that 'safe' 12 week mark enjoying a little secret and planning for an exciting future, I'll be reliving this trauma again even if everything turns out OK. If I don't get to see those two lines again, then what happens to those what ifs. Does it last forever??? I can't tell you that. I can't even tell you that I'm OK at the minute.

All I know is that life can be so dreadfully cruel. Yet at the same time, there are always little hints that even in the darkness there are little rays of happiness. Like a packet of pads, or a message of prayer from a friend. Please don’t ask me if I am ‘still’ feeling crappy, or sick. If you need to ask me anything, just ask if I’m ok. I’ll either say yes, or feel like sharing with you. I don’t have a time frame on my physical or emotional healing. I don’t know how long the craziness of emotions will go on for.

The only thing that I do know is that at the end of the day, sometimes the only thing you can do is just keep on, keeping on.

K xx