the Wise Robin

buffalo dreaming

 

 

The first day we hike eight kilometres. The girls doing a stellar job. The older wanting to turn back three quarters of the way there & the littlest wanting to walk the whole way, stopping to pick daisies every five metres. In the end the big girl made it & was rewarded with a gorgeous view, while the little fell asleep in the pack on the way back. Big, old snow gums, greyed & bent, alpine grasshoppers, dry marshes, big blue sky, a pair of wedge tail eagles riding thermals over The Horn, an alpine meadow picnic & back to camp before the sun set. Hot chocolates around the fire, simple cooking while the kids rock hopped in the bush, early nights, cosy tent, wild dogs howling across the valley through the dark, wind in the treetops whispering into my dreams, not wanting to go out into the dark to pee, lying awake, sunlight slowly seeping. Cold. Condensation drops making little paths down the tent walls. Drag my clothes into my bag to warm them up. Tent zippers, children trying to whisper, campsite waking. Cup of tea, hot breakfast, lakeside meanders.  A short trail through the Old Galleries. The energy these old rocks hold I cannot find words for. There's a sacredness here.

We've struck a sweet spot with our cooking, layering, camp fire, keeping warm routine. This night the wild dogs howl as I drift off to sleep, but later as I lay awake there is nothing, a quietness, a rustling in the understorey, probably a wombat. The kids are sad to go but the adults are tired, ready for our own beds, convenient warmth. We say goodbye to Lake Catani & hike to the top of the Monolith on our way out. We'll be back when the snow flies!

~

Back to hearth & home we came a little over a week ago.  Mount Buffalo, a special place, a distinctive landscape with amazing rock formations, ancient & wise, a place full of peaceful energy. I always enjoy visiting this mountain butI have to say this camping trip took me to the edge of my thermal comfort zone. Keeping warm & keeping little people warm is exhausting work. Days clear & crisp but as soon as the sun started to dip there was a small window for layering everyone up before the aching cold set in. Had there still been fire bans in place, because gosh it is dry & we haven't seen a speck of rain for months,  as soon as the sun set it would have been " well goodnight folks, see you in the morning" just so you could climb into a downy sleeping bag & be warm. That's not to say we didn't go prepared, we had our layers of merino & down jackets, it was just spear you to the bone cold. Zahra was brave enough to dip her toes in the lake, but not this Mama.

 

 

summer fade

 

 

A glimpse at our alpine camping trip a few weeks back. We camped by the Kiewa River, heading into the mountains during the day to do some hiking; Wallace's Hut, Cope Hut, Mt. Cope & Mt.McKay. It was a wonderful end to our summer holidays & there's no-one else I'd rather have spent it with than my gorgeous peeps. Niamh did quite a lot of walking for a two year old, frustrating at times, when there are still five kilometres to walk before nightfall & every wildflower just has to be examined. Perfect too as a reminder to keep things slow & mindful. Mt.Cope was by far the best walk, even though there was no sign of brumbies grazing on the moor- like landscape. I love the High Country, feel right at home up there. The landscape, the light, the cool air, the spaciousness all around & the spaciousness it creates in my mind. We all felt a little sad as we drove back into town. We're now back in the swing of things, another high country trip planned in just six weeks. Whoop! While the days are still hot here, the evenings & mornings have cooled right off. The sun is rising later, the evenings draw to a close sooner. I might have even spotted the first leaves turning. There's still plenty in the garden coming into the kitchen, carrots, tomatoes, herbs, zucchinis, the odd strawberry, flowers, onions & corn, but I can't help feeling that there is not much left in her, this glorious summer, the first summer I have deeply & truly fallen in love with.    There is a certain melancholy I feel as each season slows to its conclusion & yet such anticipation & hope of what the next will bring. I wonder if anyone else feels this too?

 

 

 

 

 

forest. farm. bush. sea

 

 

It's just passed seven in the morning. The girls are still snug in their beds. A cup of tea in hand & a rare moment to greet the day, just Kaya & me, watching the sunlight touch the autumn colours in the garden, while she chews on a bone. Truth be told I've been up since four thirty, unable to sleep, listening to William potter in the kitchen as he greets the dawn & his first week back at work. I've grown used to rising early over the past month of traveling north & south, twenty five hours in the car, saying goodbye to daylight saving, welcoming shorter days, Niamh taking a month to adjust to the time change, rising at four fifty on the dot to greet her day. Reluctantly leaving my warm bed, breakfast in the dark, lamplight reflecting off darkened windows, whispering so as not to wake everyone else. Sometimes all it takes is a change of scenery, mixing up the routine, then tumbling back into our own beds, our friendly familiar rhythm, to feel rested & re-awakened.

 

 

 

happy new year

 

 

Happy New Year dear friends. We've had a wonderful break the past month & I hope you all have too. I love New Year even though it's tinged with sadness at saying goodbye to my favourite festival, yuletide. The new year always feels so full of promise, like each new day, but in a much bigger way. Last year I made a lot of resolutions, some achieved, some still being worked on & some not even making it off the ground. I like to dream & hope for big & beautiful things. This new year I want to pare things back, simplify. My heart has rested on two intentions. To work on growing my mindfulness in what & how I speak to myself & others, & to try my darndest to just roll with whatever the universe throws my way. I've spent a lot of time pushing against things the past few years & it's tiring. I've already started simplifying our home, emptying cupboards, wardrobes, play spaces, our art room of things that we don't need, use or want anymore. Off to the op shop we go. Our home already feels like it's breathing more freely, we have more room & less dust bunnies. Do you like to set intentions for the year? I wonder about all that positive energy out there fuelled by peoples hopes & dreams.

The river is high and ambling on its way as we head down most evenings to escape the heat. The cooler's been buzzing non stop for the past five days as the indoor temperature slowly creeps up. There's been no sign of the forecast storms, each day dawning brilliantly bright, the haze settling in not long after the sun is up. Despite the heat we've been out on the trails. Niamh is hearing cicada song for the first time. She stops in her tracks and asks "wat's dat?" Beetles my chickadee. And so now all insects have become beetles to her. "Beedle, beedle" she chants. Both girls have been sleeping in & I've been waking early, lying starfish in bed listening to the five am chorus. It starts with the littlest birds, the thornbills & weebills. Not long after the silver-eyes & blackbirds join in & then it's the wattle birds, honeyeaters, magpies & sometimes kookaburras. We have a sweet pair of grey fantails visit us in the evenings, zipping around the garden catching bugs & eyeing us cautiously. After dinner we head out into the frazzled garden. William thought I was watering, I thought William was watering & so it goes. We lost a few things & everything else has bolted throwing off green or white umbrella heads. I pulled the last of the carrots, leeks & lettuces. I'm consoled by the fact that the tomatoes are ripening, we've eaten our first batch of sweet basil pesto & we now have a more comprehensive irrigation system. I do think though that there is something therapeutic, some days, about hand watering. I used to say that too about washing dishes until we got a dishwasher.  Some afternoons I get too cabin feverish & head out in the heat regardless. On solstice Zahra & I harvested our garlic. She pulled about three head then declared it too hot & retreated indoors. I ploughed on & we now have ninety seven head of garlic in the pantry. Not bad if I do say so. I tried the old french garlic braid thing so I could hang them decoratively in the kitchen but the stalks were too dry & I was too impatient. At night we lie awake listening to the buzz of the fans & hear the possums sniggering under our windows as they head out for the evening.

The girls were thrilled with their new ladies, Miss Phyllis Mouse & Miss Dandelion Doe. Niamh calls Phyllis, Physhus, & Miss Dandelion & Juniper Kitty have both been seeing the sights from Zahra's bike basket. I've finally admitted to myself that I took on too much Christmas sewing this year...the two ladies & their accompanying wardrobes, a nighdress & a couple of peasant tops for Zahra, christmas decorations as presens for Zahra's teachers & our own decorations for the tree. I always seem to pick the really fiddly, invovled patterns. Every spare moment I had it was stitch, stitch, cut, cut & if I wasn't doing that I was thinking about it. Then our vac blew up so we ate dinner surrounded by fabric off cuts & pins, cotton trimmings & scissors each evening. Still, everyone was thrilled with their stitched gifts. Next yuletide I will simplify on the sewing front.

Now, three six five. Wonderful & challenging & time consuming & rewarding. Would I recommend it or do it again? Hmm. If we had another baby, definitely. I am however pondering the 52 project. One portrait a week for a year. Jodi sums up beautifully everything I want to say about the 365 project. How I learnt so much about photography, my gorgeous girls, the light in our home, when to engage & when to put my lens down. There were days when I lamented taking on the project but I'm ever so happy I did. I've captured an amazing year of growth & change with my girls & disproved a belief I've had in myself that I fail to carry things through to completion. Just something someone said to me once. It's funny how we take these things on. I'd love to make a movie for each of my girls with the images & I'm already contemplating a hard cover printed album. I'll take it as it comes because right now I'm focusing on that new year intention of simplicity. 

Happy 2015 friends!

 

 

 

 

 

and just like that...

 

 

 

 

 

...flannelette is swapped for linen, feathers for cotton & wool for bare skin. The swollen days of spring have deflated in a frazzle with the heat. French onion soup was the last for the season, we've moved onto salads. I always forget how short spring is here, the heat taking me by surprise every year. The shell pool has been dragged out & dusted off, the girls spending the long evenings playing while I get the washing in or water the garden. The dog lies spawled on the floor panting, panting, always panting. Shhhh, just for a few moments Kaya girl. The flies buzz at the back door waiting to be let in while I prep the evening meal. "Be quick with the door girls" I have to remind constantly. Heat makes me cranky. More to the point anything over 31 degrees leaves me like a floppy fish. The doors and windows are shut tight again until next March & we fidget while waiting for the biting sun to lower his gaze so we can head to the pool. Our movements become restricted to the few hours before nine o'clock & after four, which become between the hours of eight & seven during the hottest heat of January, February. I see tradies & people jogging & wonder what they're doing, don't they know they could evaporate just like that? William heads out on his road bike with his Italian skin. Some days I feel that this land & I were never meant for each other. My complexion is much more of the Scottish Highland or windswept moors type. Summer here is sort of a thief, she steals time & energy, but gives it back as an appetite for good weather & woolens. The garden is humming along though. Carrots, celery, spring onions, snow peas, parsley, cornflowers & calendulas. Capsicums & more salad greens have gone in. My next move... pumpkins, tomatoes & a forage garden for the chooks. I've started researching honeybees & bantam chook breeds. We'd love to have bees by next spring & need to boost our feathered flock. We lost Anouk not long after Stella a few weeks back & now we have just three girls, with only one layer. Not really enough for a family of four that eat eggs every day. They've settled into their new run, Annabelle, our man hen, quite content to crow from the top of the compost heap every morning.  I've been spinning, albeit with sweaty hands, & wrapping up a few photography jobs. The last one at a local gallery where I was humbled & fortunate to be using studio gear again. With that etheric mantle free from the girls for a few hours I walked away feeling like I haven't in so long. Enlivenend & energetic & inspired. I'm asking the universe to deliver more of that. ...and just like that, dare I mention it, Christmas is around the corner. I have Miss Dandelion Doe and Miss Phylis Mouse queued up for the girls but other than that my thoughts on Christmas have been fairly few and far between. How are your ideas on Christmas shaping up? Do you manage the seasonal transition with grace or like me end up like a floppy fish?

snow day adventure

 

 

 

What an adventure we had on the weekend in the SNOOOOOOWWWW! I looove snow. I wait for it all year. I fantasise about it in the scorching summer heat. I severely crush on northern hemisphere blogs in January & just genereally pine for snow. I don't know what it is about the stuff. Maybe it's the way it sparkles. Maybe it's the way it transforms the landscape. Maybe it's the fun you can have in it. I'm sure all you northern hemispherers who live in snow for half the year think I'm crazy & yes I've never experienced a blizzard, but oh, it's just magical to me. We headed up the Ovens Valley to Mt Buffalo for a day of toboganning. It had snowed all day Friday, so we arrived to find fresh, dry powder. The sun was shining & it was a balmy ten degrees. We flew down the mountain on our pieces of coloured plastic, built a snowman, threw snowballs, drank hot tea, absorbed our daily dose of high altitude Vitamin D & fell in a heap of happy exhausted. I even got a snowboard run in. The girls had a ball but the wheels fell off as the sun started sinking & the temperature dropped. We filled our bellies, dried off, changed into warm gear & piled in ready for the trip back down the mountain. Only thing was the car woudn't start. "Come on Violet " we all chanted { I have a habit of naming cars... Sophie, Sylvie, Pauline, Veronica, Francesca, Will's car Connie & now our old Volvo, Violet, named by Zahra}. People are leaving & the car park is now shadowed by the hill behind us as Will asks around for jumper leads. Meanwhile I run into an old friend. Small world. We chat while Will finds some leads & we get a jump. Hooray. We pull out of the carpark & start off up the road. Only, onaproblem. Foot to the floor & no power. Hmmm.  No phone reception. Hmmm. It's now zero degrees. Hmmm. Will parks in the last of the sun while I head back to the carpark to catch up with the ranger who has just pulled in.  By now the carpark has emptied  except for a few last stragglers. We chat about our predicament & the falling temperature & the screaming baby in the backseat & the lack of phone reception. Best thing we decide is to keep the car running back in the carpark while we make an RACV ranger radio call. Will needs his wallet for that, which incidentally we can't find. We turn the car upside down while trying to keep the heat in. Bless those Swedish cottonsocks, they sure know how to make great car heaters. One ransacked car later & Will finds his wallet where he'd put it, ya know, to keep it safe! One phone call later & there'll be no help till tomorrow. Abandon ship is the verdict. Will & ranger Scotty head off to the office while I stay with the girls, car running, heater blasting, sun sinking, carpark emptied. We wait, we sing, we watch the sun change colours on the tors. We talk about what an adventure this is & how everything is going to be ok as the sky turns pink & lavender then indigo & finally black. Eventually Scott returns with his car. We say goodbye to Violet as the temperature hits minus three. Scott takes us back to his house where there's a wood fire. We rotisserie ourselves until we're thawed & chat about our options. We decide to phone a friend. It's agreed. We'll leave Violet, get the girls home & Will will come back for her tomorrow with a tow. So we wait. We eat the last of our scroggin & soup. I completely forget about the whole baked cake in the bottom of the bag while Niamh eyes off Scott's lamb casserole, pointing at it with her egg flip, which she found in one of his drawers. Poor guy. It was the last day of his work rotation & he was down to his last meal. Boy it smelt good. We follow Niamh around trying to keep her little, overtired self out of mischief while Zahra watches out the window. Just when everyone was really starting to hit the wall, our dearest of dear friend turns up. There were quick goodbyes & many thankyous then off we pile into the next vehicle. I suggest we head back to get the last of our gear out of Violet & perhaps one more try of the engine, you just never know. She blasts into life, hah, of course. The temperature gauge now reads minus five. William takes Violet & the rest of us follow down the mountain. Niamh fell asleep the moment we left ranger Scotty's & Zahra wasn't far behind as we headed for home. We arrived just before midnight, bundled the girls into bed & pondered our snow adventure over a chamomile. My heart is always overwhelmed by the kindness of friends & complete strangers. While waiting up there in the carpark Zahra asked anxiously "Are we going to be ok Mama? Will I get to sleep in my own bed tonigh? "  " Yes, baby girl, we're gonna be fine. People help each other, the world is full of kindness".  A big, big heartfelt thankyou to Kim & Scotty & those kind strangers in the parking lot who lent a hand. We are incredibly grateful. It could have turned out so differently, but we ended our snow day tucked up in our own beds. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

there & back

 

 

 

Awgh, what a week it's been. Saying goodbye to my big girl as she headed off on her own adventures & getting to spend some quiet time with my little sweetpea Niamh. With William at work all week it was just the two of us girls. Slidng into a lovely routine filled with baking & stories, window watching & knitting, mama's catch up list & nap time. We walked & ate good food, chatted to the birds in the garden & really just had a wonderful slow week together.  Looking back at my list of to do's I can say that just about every one of them is crossed off. I didn't get a start on Miss Juniper Kitty but I did cast off Zahra's cardi. It's blocking as we speak. I'm really happy with it. As I was knitting along with Le Tour every evening I would stop occassionally and just look at it, hardly believing that I had knit it. If you had shown me this pattern three years ago, when I seriously decided to give knitting a go, I would have laughed out loud. I would never have thought I'd be able to knit something like that & here I am, still gobsmacked that I was able to follow a lace chart, albeit in complete silence, in a room by myself. It was one of those things I thought was going to be really hard & painful & long, so I put it off & put it off & then it turns out not at all difficult or painful & even...fun. So that's that & now I feel like I can conquer any knitting challenge. 

As we drove north we listened to The Silver Brumby audiobook. I loved reading this series as a kid. It fuelled my insatiable appetite for anything remotely horsey. High country, snow, mountains, the bush, wilderness & brumbies all rolled into one. I remember driving over Charlotte's Pass on a family holiday & being completely mesmerised by the mountains and the patchy summer snow, hoping with all my heart that I'd get to see a brumby. There was no brumby that day but years later when I was working up at Thredbo one summer, as we passed over Dead Horse Gap, there in a small clearing just off the road, was a wild horse. Small & dark, long tangled mane & tail, watching us quietly as we drove by. That was a special day.

It rained for most of the drive home, big puffy clouds filling the sky. I've travelled this road north & south more times than I can count over the past fifteen years & every time I come to the same bend in the road or the same hill or the same paddock, where the landscape just opens up before me & I can see the mountains & the last of the southwest slopes, I'm blown away, left quiet by how beautiful it all is. Just sliding over the land completely captivated.

Returning a week later all I could think about was giving my girl a big hug & that vanilla almond cake. It was everything I'd dreamed of & the two cakes that I'd baked were way off the mark. This one I do believe had coconut in it, giving it that denseness that I was craving & making it all chewy & so good. I'm gonna try again & see what I come up with. We had a wonderful birthday lunch for my Mum & me, thirty six! Then it was off again in opposite directions, The Silver Brumby starting up from where we left off. There & back home again.

 

 

 

odd bod days & cauliflower soup

There's a pumpkin roasting in the oven, one baby girl is asleep & my big girl is at the theatre. The house is all quiet & warm. Patchy blue is starting to peek through the thick fog that we've been having for the past few days. It shrowds the town, our street, the house by five o'clock in the evening, making everything quietly slow, thick like butter, & delciously warm inside. I remembered I'd left the pram outside just as I was drifting off to sleep last night. Out of a warm bed & into my wellies I hopped, down the side of the house. The sky all aglow like a big softbox with the streetlights & low cloud. The pram, my scarf & mitts all damp. Back inside & into a warm bed. Felt so good. Niamh & I walked up the hill & into the bush this morning. We could hear the town noises below. Traffic, lawnmowers, all the neighbourhood renovations going on & we were up in this floaty whiteness, worlds away. Everything  drips with the damp air.  Birds sing but we can't see them. Ibis fly low over our heads with a whooshing of wings, hugging the treeline for navigation. The pea soup clears by lunchtime & then we have the most glorious few hours of sunshine. Such a mix of odd bod days. Winter & lingering autumn & then the feeling of almost spring. There are jonquils flowering already & small, sweet apples on our tree. That's never happened before. The birds & coddling moth usually get them. We've been slowly pruning our big, old tree back so it's a manageable size to net. Then there'll be apple pie & crumble. I always feel sad for some reason after pruning big trees, unless it's a privet. It's like their personality changes & they become unbalanced for a time until they've grown into their new look. The altered skyline takes a while for me to settle into. It was funny watching the girls settle up there to roost for the night, looking around for familiar branches, working out a new roosting routine. Who perches next to who, who sits the highest. Matilda was all settled, then Clothilde kinda moved on in, slowly shoving & pecking her way to where she wanted to be. 

We've been walking around the neighbourhood in the mornings admiring all the gardens and the seasonal changes. I love how the nakedness of winter lets you peek into nooks and crannies, see views that are otherwise obscured by the green of spring and summer. Mushrooms and moss, withering seed heads and plump buds ready to burst when spring arrives. There's a currawong sittng outside the window scoffing the purple privet berries. His beady yellow eyes see me as I move to get my camera and he's gone. The currawongs call all day in their dipping voices. There seem to be more of them this year, have you noticed that too?  Now, cauliflower soup. Doesn't sound that appealing but oh my stars. It is so simple & crazy good. All creamy & more-ish. I know there's a pic up there of leeks because we made leek and potato soup too, but the cauliflower is much, much better. 

 

800g cauliflower florets

600ml water, more or less deending on how thick you like it

100-200g speck or smoked bacon

1 tbsp butter

salt & pepper to taste

 

Place water, cauliflower and seasoning into a pot. Bring to a boil then simmer gently until the cauliflower is cooked. While the cauliflower is simmering fry up the bacon. When cauliflower is soft add the butter and bacon. Blend until smooth. Serve with a sprinkling of parmesan.

 

 

 

 

 

wintersweet

 

 

 

~ this week was ~

dark mornings and creeping, grey fog hugging our house on the hill

watching the sun filter through the last of the crepe myrtle leaves as i lay in bed with my loves

waking to find empty branches and winter waiting on the doorstep

saying goodbye to a family friend

casting off

& casting on

new wellies for little feet

watching our winter veg take off

 marvelling in the beauty of day long dewdrops

eating sweet, homegrown greens 

seeing the apple tree finally turn & knowing the vegies will now get a few more hours of sunshine

sadness at finding out our local steiner playgroup had folded. the playgroup where zahra and I connected with friends & a new family rhythm all those years ago when I was parenting by myself. the playgroup I was anticipating returning to soon with little niamh.

listening to the throaty call of the wattlebirds

finding beauty in the colour combination of golden pomegranate leaves and fuschia pink camellia petals

hearing more and more currawongs fly over & knowing snow will fly soon

running late afternoon errands in town & being reminded to slow down, breathe, by the yellow and grey of the last rays of sun washing over the golden, crowned plane trees and stormy sky 

creations of the fairy house kind

anticipating the scent and subtle yellow -magenta of those swollen wintersweet buds

missing autumn already and feeling glum about the winter stretch ahead

checking the calendar to mark the days until solstice & the return of the light

glimpsing the coming spring in waiting buds & peeping bulbs

waking to laundry & a dishevelled home, rolling over & reading instead

full & good

~

how about you? what was your week filled with?

 

 

 

south & back

 for my pop

 

 

grief is a strange and complex thing. it has many faces and bubbles up in the most unexpected moments. sometimes it's a look or what someone says, a smell or a rising memory that calls grief's name. this past week has had me smelling the percolating coffee in my grandparents house, taking my shoes off and placing them neatly on the mat by the front door, listening to my Poppy chuckle and watching him in the garden. i have revisited every room in their house and dug deep for every memory i have of him. his clear, sharp, grey eyes, his hands that are the spitting image of my mother's, his love of horses which he passed on to me.  the way he dressed in his best clothes to go into town. nan in her twinset with her handbag and heels, him in his suit and bow tie. the soft yellow of his woollen jumpers and his smoothed down hair. how he rolled up his overalls when working in the garden and how he wore one of those davy crockett style caps in winter. his love of a good timepiece and cameras, his back room where he made saddles and polished his shoes, the smell of leather always strong and sweet. the way he read with a magnifying glass instead of his specs. stories of the war in London, sailing ships, south africa and the ocean. he loved the ocean, the rougher the better he would say. he joined the merchant navy at just fourteen. the way a vw beetle is a poppy car to me and my sister because our poppy drove one. dahlias, roses, carnations, peas and passionfruit.  she is a comfort some days, this friend grief. allowing tears and sadness, precious memories and an emptying that is soothing and relief. other days grief is a dark shadow that brings anger and blame. he lived long, my pop, ninety seven years. that's almost one hundred summers and winters. whether he had a good life i'll never know. there was a lot he didn't talk about, a lot we weren't allowed to ask. staying in someone elses house when finding out my pop was gone was incredibly hard. but being by the ocean that he loved so much, that's where i was meant to be. i'm so sorry you didn't get to meet your youngest great grand daughter and that  i didn't get to say goodbye in person. thankyou for teaching me all that you did and for the precious memories.

 

 

 

mama love

59/365

 

 

 

 

a day

 

slowly does it

 

 

 

 

things are moving slowly around here. mama is sooooo tired after a week of 'good' sleep. strange but true. my body had accustomed itself to the two, one and half or maybe three on a good night, hour blocks of sleep. throw in a week of four hour blocks of shuteye then revert, and my body knows what it is missing. so we're taking things as they come, letting go and enjoying some slowness in our days. the heat has begun, adding a haze to the slowness. yesterday we big girls sat and knitted and chatted and knitted some more. me with milk glass blue, her with stripes. she announced that wearing something knitted was really just like walking around in balls of wool tied in knots. love. we ambled in the bush as the sun was sinking, collecting treasures, then i bathed the girls outdoors in the shell pool. there are vases of flowers here and there, dropping their petals and a sewing table covered in stuff...books on how to help your babe sleep, a maggie rabbit kit yet to be started for solstice, ballet slippers in need of ribbons for next week's concert, a cold mug of dandelion, paperwork for my upcoming homeschool inspection, templates for christmas decorations...but it's all good stuff. things that need doing or are half done. things that i know will get finished and things that i'm ok with not finishing. they're all just  part of our days. the second installment of the art of mothering project has hit a bump but it's still there, i'm working away on it slowly, of course.

 

beautiful day

 i had high hopes of bringing you the first instalment of the new project that i'm working on and so excited about, so you all some weekend reading. last night there were six wake up calls to the babe between midnight and five am, a routine she is happily settling into but ends up leaving me feeling a little raw and sleepy. these days most mornings start with black and greens eighty five percent. but we are happily going along with our daily rhythm. today is halloween and tonight we'll light our lanterns, sit around the fire and stare up at the big night sky. the laundry is already done and waiting to be hung out, the girls are fed and going about their morning busyness, the chooks are quiet [mornings can get rowdy round here], there is a gentle breeze blowing in through the front door and the sun is smiling. it is going to be a beautiful day. i've been digging into erin's archives, she is so inspiring. inspiring me to be more mindful and choose how i feel.  so today i choose to put my fatigue aside, jump right in and make today a beautiful day. there won't be any weekend reading for you this time, but don't worry, i'm on it and it will be here soon. wishing you a beautiful day too and a happy halloween.

 

 

evening rhythm

 

as the days lengthen we find ourselves outdoors later into the evening, enjoying the extra time in the garden, eating dinner on the grass, and heading into the bush. it's become an after dinner thing, finding it's way into our evening rhythm as we wind down at the end of these days that are so full of busyness as we head toward solstice. our little patch of bush is bursting with so much life and colour at this time of year. grasses flowering, daisies and bluebells dotting the hillside, plantain fairy skirts and cobwebs glittering in the evening sunshine. even the weeds look lovely, the wild oats tall and lush with their empty husks filtering the sunset. we climb the hill to the watertank, leaving the day behind. we watch the town below, take a deep breath, connect with each other after a day apart, listen to the birds, hear the sun dip below the western hills then head homeward. it's my favourite part of the day, being together in that transition time before sleep, before another day begins.

 

 

 

late August

 

 

There is so much pink and white, lush, lush green and sky blue outdoors these past days. The teasings of Spring have begun. Swelling buds reveal just a hint of the colour and life beneath. The vibrant yellow green of growing grass reminds us of the mowing season ahead and warm sunshine beckons us to stop and soak it all in. Beanies have been replaced with sunhats and the days are becoming noticeably longer as the sun crawls higher in the sky and our girls stay up later and later catching those few last bugs before the night's roost. The soft lingering light of twilight has replaced the hurry home heaviness of Winter evenings.

Doors and windows were thrown open these last few days and the daffodils we planted weeks ago have finally uncurled from their earthy rest. Zahra is spending more time outdoors than in, and I can hear her out in the yard singing in the season. She is a Spring girl this one, born on the first calendar day of the new season. Something she is proud of and holds dear to her heart. When people ask her when her birthday is she replies not with a date but with "the first day of Spring". This weekend she turns eight. An age where I can feel her letting go just a little from me, making more of her own way out in the world in ever so small ways. This year for her birthday I am gifting her a quilt. My first quilt. A quilt for her to wrap herself in and dream big, beautiful, dreams about her life. A quilt to remind her of how loved she is. A quilt that she may, this Mama hopes, have with her for many years to come. A quilt that this Mama has yet to finish.

There is more rain forecast later this week and I'm sure the easterlies will return giving us a final blast of cold air off the mountains just to remind us Winter is not done yet. But in these late August days we are getting out there and breathing in the slow unfurling of Spring.

Happy New season to you

Cxo 

 

morning mist

 

 

We're all battling runny noses and sore throats here. Wah! Plenty of chamomile tea with honey and early nights with all  four of us bunking down together, trying to keep warm. There may have been a few tears on the phone yesterday as I was explaining how cold we were and could our heating please, please come soon. Then early this morning, a message saying it was coming tomorrow. Yay!

 

Upon waking today, our little part of the world had been transformed into something magical . Thick fog swirling by and dew drops hanging from every spider web and drooping branch. We rugged up and headed outdoors to enjoy its quiet magic. Then back inside for tea and crumpets with honey. The knitting I had hoped to finish on the weekend, which was left couch side in favour of  sunshine and live Sunday afternoon music  in The Gardens, is waiting for me. Zahra is itching to bake after a day in bed yesterday and Niamh is stirring from her morning sleep. The sun will be shining when this fog lifts and maybe I can get some laundry dry. Our day keeps rolling on.

xoC 

sweet rain

 

Yesterday we got caught in the rain. Sweet rain that we need so much, the garden is so dry. The warm Autumn sunshine has disappeared, now it feels like snow in the mountains. Laundry is drying in the loungeroom, Kaya is curled up in front of the space heater that we're running...still no sign of our replacement heating. Enjoying the vivid Autumn colours spread like warm blankets on the tree roots. Branches are bare and raindrops hang like jewels on their fingertips. Feeling snug and cosying up with hot drinks on the couch as we listen and watch it fall.

xoC

 

today

 

Today was a good day. Breakfast in bed for my oldest little and a very interested onlooker.  A trampoline day. There was a bite to the sunshine, the last reminder of a Summer just gone, and a first date post Niamh. It may have only been to the store for late night grocery shopping, but it felt good. Both girls tucked up in bed and us out on the town. 

 

Happy Days

xoC

these days

 

We're taking things day by day here in the house on the hill. Niamh only sleeps on my chest, next to my heart, as we go about our day.  The sun still warms us but is disappearing behind the hill earlier each afternoon. We're slowly finding a rhythm to family life once again. Autumn is in her full glory with bursts of earthy colour carpeting the neighbourhood, clinging to branches and shimmering in the golden sunshine. Our house is chilly as we wait for new heating to be installed. It seems that Autumn is disappearing fast and Winter will be soon upon us.  We wait eagerly each morning for Jake, our postie, to deliver the first installment of the Grey Fox Epistles. Things are just chugging along.

Thought I'd post a picture a day for a while. A reflection on these days.

xoC

 

 

 

rainy day small things

 

Our authenticity is found hidden in the small details of our daily round. We think that it is the big moments that define our lives. But really these big moments of happiness are just the punctuation marks. The narrative is written every day in the small and simple

Sarah Ban Breathnach

 

 

rhythmic, quenching rain

listening to it fall on the roof at night

feels like such a long time since it last fell

rainy day meringues

spinning on the porch

her cardmaking and flower gathering

walking in the garden

a perfect day

 

Hope you enjoyed the rain too

 

xoC

 

this season

 

We've been cosied up indoors for the past four days enjoying a little...

.

 

...seasonal craft, taking down our Autumn window stars and putting up our Winter snowflakes

 

 

knitting for babies

 

 

knitting  for her

 

 

and knitting with her

 

 

making with yummy velveteen

 

 

and wool

 

 

bringing some Winter love to our nature table

 

 

enjoying her garden collections

 

and walking to breathe in the bush and soak up the Winter sunshine.

Just enjoying the season. Hope you're enjoying it too.

Cxo

 

morning light

 

 

With sleeep still heavy in our eyes  and the scent of last nights fire still heavy in our hair, we donned our woollies and headed up the hill behind our home.

Up there was a world  bedecked with liquid jewels, swirling in white cloud.

Cold noses and rosy cheeks, frosty leaves and flecks of golden, everlasting colour.

We stayed a while in this magical place then headed back towards home with thoughts of hot chocolate and toast with jam fresh on our minds.

 

Have a lovely, warm weekend

Cxo

winter sun

 

 

the daylight hours shorten and pass on quickly as we head toward Winter solstice

each morning we are greeted with clear blue skies and warming Winter sun

 

Cxo

 

 

from the files

 

I am very excited to be sharing something  with you today, something that I have been waiting to do for quite some time. Very late on Mother's Day an unexpected and very generous gift was given. Unless we're talking cameras I don't often get excited about technology and even then the older the camera the more beautiful and the more promise I do believe. This little piece of technology, in the form of a simple scanner that scans not only 35mm film, but more excitedly, 120 film, has me thinking of darkrooms, black and white, medium format and dusting off my old Mamiya 645. I'm excited because for me this means once again shooting in film, my true love, and being able to print without a darkroom. I still have all my darkroom gear and in a twisted kind of way the thought of smelling those darkroom chemicals again gets me going but the thought of handling these chemicals and disposing of them responsibly outside an art school style setup is enough to put me off.

Today I headed down to the studio to open a couple of old suitcases that have been untouched for the past eight years. They are full to the brim of negatives. Some I have seen in the form of  proof sheets or prints but others were simply developed then filed away. I'm not sure what I will find inside these suitcases that hold so many memories....smiles I think are guaranteed, tears maybe, nostalgia I'm sure. With so many negatives to sort through I thought I'd simply start at the top and slowly work my way down. Come take a look with me.

 

All these images are were taken in my early twenties when Miss Kaya dog was a pup and we lived in an old farm house right on the river. Hot in Summer, freezing in Winter with our very own red belly who lived under the house. She would come out to sun herself on the back porch and disappear into a small hole under the backdoor. It was here we had some great parties, one hundred acres of space, a house sheep called Lucy, our very own stretch of the river and a wide inky night sky jam packed with stars.

Wishing you a wonderful weekend

Cxo

 

light and colour

Things have been a little slow in this space over the past few weeks. Along with the day to day of study, leaping into homeschooling and the studio, my trusty and much loved D80 decided to take an early retirement. After going a little stir crazy without a camera in my hands I began hatching plans of bringing one of my film cameras out of retirement and returning to film. I become a bit nostalgic when I think of film, darkrooms, test strips, metal bodies without expansive menus and the need to 'plug in'. Simple and beautiful with the added element of delayed gratification.When I get down to the nitty gritty of what I love about creating images I realise that I'm old school through and through. And then the nostalgia faded just a little when I was incredibly blessed to be gifted a D90. The generosity of people never ceases to humble and amaze me. So here I am again dear friends. It feels good to be back.

 

My camera and I have slowly been getting acquainted.Capturing the light and colour of the past few days I couldn't help but notice the softening of the sun and the turning of leaves. It fills me with comfort to feel the Earth turning. Turning toward Autumn, my favourite time of year with its earthy hues and that sense of drawing inward. A time of reflection, renewal and cosying up together. My mind is already swelling with knitting projects, soup recipes and flanelette sheets. But for now I must try and contain my excitement and enjoy the last of Summer's long evenings, bare feet and cricket chorus.

Happy last days of Summer

warmly

Cxo

 

winter hues two

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

One and a half calendar weeks of Winter remaining 

Soak in her colours, breathe in her air, revel in her beauty

Before long the ground will be thick with heat and Winter's stillness will be forgotten

I rememeber snowboarding last October

winter hues

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
I am constantly amazed at the colours Winter throws our way.

Subtle, earthy and muted, yet surprisingly rich at the same time

Silver, greys, whites, blacks, greens and browns

My eye is quite taken by these colours, so much so that I thought I'd continue on the Winter hues path a little while longer, creating a small series of images . After all it is still Winter, even though the Spring blossoms have burst forth, following a week of unusually warm temperatures. It was just yesterday I was telling a friend that my knitting has been lying idle for a week or two now.Yesterday's falling temperatures have certainly sent me scurrying fireside to warm my toes and ponder that alpaca beanie I cast on for.

Hope you're all keeping warm and dry.

 

 

tom

 
 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

I feel extremely blessed and honoured to have recently worked with local ceramicist extraordinaire, Tom Strachan. I have admired Tom's work for some time now and so  was over the moon (and a tad nervous) when I was asked by a dear friend to photograph his latest  collection- Preserved.

 
 
 
 

 I do not hesitate in the least when I say that this collaboration was quite possibly the best photography job I have had to date. Tom generously indulged me with his time and space, afforded me creative control and fed me copious amounts of tea, words of wisdom, almond chocolate and melt in your mouth Italian biscuits. Oh my. Our days in his studio were peppered with tea breaks in his truly amazing garden, and to top it all off,  I returned home just yesterday with my very own little piece of Tom.

 
Tom gifted me with one of his amazing Eucalyptus camuldulensis (Red Gum) pieces- one of my all time favourite Australian trees. These trees seem to carry and speak the ancient wisdom of this land in their being.

I still need to find her a home, but right now I am happy to sneak little peaks of her from time to time.