Picklebums is like the oddment box at your local fabric shop.
An eclectic jumble of this and that. You never know quite what you are going to get.
Perhaps a couple of activities for kids? Maybe a recipe or three? A bit of rambling about gardening and living sustainably? How about some pondering on parenting? There’s always photos, some crafty stuff, a couple of pickles and a few bums thrown in for good measure.
So dig in.
Rummage around a bit.
You’re sure to pull out a few gems for a bargain price.
Stitch them all together and you get the crazy mixed up story that is our life on the Pickle Farm.
So where are all the pickles?
The Pickle Farm is ten acres of weeds in almost rural Victoria, Australia. We moved here on a whim in 2005 and it was the best crazy idea we’ve ever had.
We grow chickens, veggies, overly amorous ducks, fruit, thistles as high as a horse, and children, but no actual pickles.
‘Picklebum’ is a term of endearment that was coined to describe our gorgeously funny children. When I began blogging in 2005 it seemed like the prefect name and since then the pickle references have grown along with our family.
Who are the Picklebums?
I’m Kate, the head pickle.
Before I had kids I was an early childhood teacher, now my main aim in life is to make a dinner that everyone will eat!
I’ve been writing this blog for way too long (ie 10+ years) and I also dabble in a bit of freelance writing and web design.
I’m married to a shift working, science and maths nerd who can clear the house with just one fart, but we love him anyway.
We have four kids – yes, we have a TV, yes we know what causes it, and yes we are insane.
Zoe and Izzy are twins, and while they were born 11 weeks early and were such tiny fragile babies, now they are tall lanky tweens who’s eyes will probably roll right out of their heads one day!
Morgan is our ‘middle child’. It took us six weeks to name him and in that period of nameless limbo the nickname ‘Muski’ (bestowed by his then three year old sisters) stuck fast, though these days most people just call him ‘Morgs’.
Noah is our last baby, and he takes advantage of that fact every day! He lives in his own little world, and he needs to be reminded to wear two shoes to school most mornings!