Poppies and violas

If I had been more organised, I could have knit myself a poppy to wear today (Anzac Day) and just donated to the Annual RSA Poppy Day Appeal instead of also taking one of their little poppies that fell to bits only hours later.

A Poppy for Remembrance by Laura Chau, free pattern and photo source here on Ravelry

Maybe next year.

Today I did some gardening, not of poppies but of violas. Lauren, my flatmate, got given a Pocket Garden for Christmas and in about February she took the plunge and planted it under my watchful eye - not that I know anything about gardening but she doesn't either so wanted some moral support.

To our surprise, a few weeks later the seeds sprouted and our little violas haven't looked back since. Here they are at the beginning of this month:

And here they are today:

I decided they needed to be put into a proper pot as they had truly outgrown their pocket. So I went to Bunnings Warehouse today (as the closest garden centre was closed) and got some potting mix. Bunnings only had plastic pots and I want a real pot so I decided that for the time being they could live in an empty ice cream container with some holes stabbed in the bottom and another ice cream container underneath to hold the excess water. So now I'm on the lookout for a nice ceramic pot. I really hope the violas survive their move - I've even staked them with a chopstick and some wool because the ice cream container isn't really deep enough for them so they need some help staying upright, but at least it will give their roots some more room.

Lauren was very pleased when I said I wanted to put the violas into a pot because apparently it confirms that I'm a suitable adoptive plant parent. Lauren's leaving Wellington to go to America next month to be a camp counsellor at Camp America. So sadly she's leaving me and the violas behind. I've said I'll send her regular plant updates though.

Yesterday I went to a clothes swap at my step-sister Claire's house. I haven't been to one before but they're such a good idea, especially when combined with pot-luck lunch. I came away with a skirt that's kind of similar to one I've lived in on the weekends during the summer (in that it's long-ish and very full):

And a necklace that I wasn't so keen on once I got it home. I think I was a bit enticed by its exotic origins - the girl who said she never wears it and has too much jewelry was given it by a friend who bought it in Greece.

All the chains just really aren't my thing. I like the beads though.

Finally, last night I saw a play at BATS Theatre that, along with the awful helicopter crash this morning that killed three members of the NZ Air Force, reminded me how lucky I am that the things I have to write about are violas and a clothes swap.

My Name is Rachel Corrie is a solo show based on the diaries and emails of American woman Rachel Corrie who was killed in the Gaza Strip while protesting the destruction of Palestinian homes in 2003. Whatever you think about the politics of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, or about Rachel Corrie and her actions, the awful reality for the people that Rachel was living with before she died of constant gunfire, the threat that their home could be bulldozed at any moment, the difficulty of getting water, and curfews (to name but a few) is so removed from the comparative luxury of my life that it is very sobering indeed. A really moving play that, for all the heaviness of its content, has a lot of humour and the production I saw of it was very powerful.

With that in mind, I will not lament the fact that I haven't managed to do any knitting this weekend. But I haven't. And I really want to finish the Baby Shrug!