On Sunday I decided to wag work and go for a lovely long drive with my two boys up to Lavandula, just past Hepburn Springs for their annual lavender festival. Seems like a nice time for knitting away while Felix drives, right?
Nope. Felix woke up early to take care of Marcus so I let him sleep from Malmesbury to Daylesford, Marcus having passed out waaaaaaaaaayyy earlier (we were still on the Eastern Freeway when he zonked out!). After a brief stop to re-stock all the baby snacks I left at home, we got there nice and early, only two rows of parking already there.
The smell. Oh my sainted aunt, you cannot believe the smell. I loathe lavender-scented anything, but the real stuff sends me off into paroxysm's of joy. My mum is the same, but we never grew any ourselves, mainly due to the fact that I'm deathly allergic to bees. Annoying, really.
Bees love lavender. They were far less impressed with my Treads sock, which I carried around with me and worked on, causing untold jealousy in non-knitters - especially when I was queuing up for cups of tea. No boredom while waiting!
The lavender Devonshire tea was yummy, and disappeared swiftly, giving me more time to spend on the goodies - fresh lavender bundles cut in front of me, tied up and handed over for what I think was a pittance. My car was reeking of it all day and yesterday as well.
Marcus had a great time, with most of it spent flirting with total strangers and working on his tentative walking, but mainly the flirting.
Felix took over the driving to the Convent in Daylesford, but no knitting was afforded as it was his first time driving Sven the Saab and I had to make sure he got the indicator right (right twice, wrong hilariously once). Then after the taste testing of Herbal Lore liqueurs at the Convent I was forced to drive home (and I didn't get any taste testing, darnit!) and my two companions passed out yet again.
How tuckered out are my boys?