Waking up to the beauty of the Sense river in Switzerland. A steep gorge and rocky bed. This unique covered wooden bridge frames the morning sunlight.
Yesterday we hiked up the valley to a hidden, adult size bush-cubby and made a fire. Swimming sunning roasting haloumi marshmallows and flower sausages. Across the water is a small house built into the cliff, Villa Anna. Intriguing.
A happy warm family day lingers with me this morning.
I am drawn out with the soft grey dawn, awakening bird songs lure me into the day. The wind softly guides me up the ridge line walk. I am cocooned in layers of wool like paperbark and I soon enter a walking meditation, every rhythmic step the goal of my experience.
Each footfall quiet and attentive.
my awareness extends, to touch bird melodies and leaf whispers, though I think I am quiet, a walkaby at 50 metres scampers away through the rasping grass.
my soft steps continue the meandering morning path. Pale light and muted colours.
There are fewer melodies up here now. I am dreamily passing blood woods and casuarinas, the old ones, bladed grasses and fallen limbs.
I’m leaving the rumble and play of the creek noises and entering a quieter hillock. I’m present to the sensations of my walking body, swaying limbs as branches and sound chasing.
Until I find myself thinking about journalling my experiences and story.
A chuckle for myself.
This morn I’ve risen chirpy like a wee yellow breasted wren. Nothing will dim my song. My quiet escape fills me with glee.
The landspace subtly shifts and now I have a view over the ridge to the cascading forest across the valley. Each bunch of grey/orange/blue/greenery swaying its own direction. Spun and waltzed by this buffeting wind. Ah this wind! it lifts me high into its embrace,
my face turns and smiles into it like a happy farm dog on the tray of a ute.
Joyous in the face of windy thrills.
my senses open once more and slowly i step along. Observing all the sheoak saplings culled by the last burn off.
I note some of the soft leaved branches will help our fire start this drizzly day. I step over the exposed roots of a large blood wood giving honour as one of the sentinels of the woods. There aren’t many left up here.
Ahh my heart sours, a treasure of fairy pink by my foot print. A solitary pink fairy orchid offers me rain drops from her petals. I delicately catch them and pray with this tiny gift of bush magic. We commune until I am beckoned on, where a forming balga spear has immature flower heads adorning the top foot or so. It is smooth and strong and a wondrous display of natures contrasts. The slender pointy leaves forming a protective cushion below.
I read recently, look under the green growth on wet days, there one can find a cache of dry tinder. I note this also for my fire efforts.
It’s only on my return I notice the balgas grow on the higher ground and I’ve unwittingly left their domain. I’m too hungry to turn back.
I feel drawn on until I can view the little mountain adorned by turtle head rock. Its clear I’m not to wander there this day. The wind tugs and swirls around me. I am expansive and generous in my exchange.
Up here I notice the diverse bird song again, the open woodland carpeted with grasses and granite beds. The balgas grow more prolifically.
I wish I could translate their tunes and calls, but I am not yet a devoted bird nerd.
The day has brightened and my mood with it. This spontaneous solitude nourishing and adding to my collection of stories. I run.
My body fairly hovers downhill pausing only for tinder collecting and slurping rain drops from sheoak fronds as i pass their domain. I run my mouth along a bundle of new growth and catch a small mouthful of plant gathered sky juice.
I return with my happy heart anticipating the smokey perfume and family shawl I shall wear this day.
waking up to.
this fine nest of eggs.
this wild woven willow nest was Jesse’s gift to me upon return from a recent trip to New Zealand. in such contrast to my own methodical approach to weaving which is my meditation and pleasure, i am moved to joy with Jesse’s wild cohesion. his first basket i believe. and for me. oh.
i’m touched that he has spoken to me in a language i understand and have great fluency. the concentrated placing of stems, the twining, the listening with fingertips to the song of the sticks, the bend, flex and play, the creation of something beautiful and useful from nothing and deeply pleasing is the remarkable willow perfume.
it enraptures me as i pass and underlies the blueprint aroma of our house at present. slightly spicy, true tree essence. this scent turned me onto a new road in my life when i entered Mike Lillian’s willow weaving workshop in Kakanui in 2008. as i entered this richly scented haven, more baskets than i could poke a stick at and bundles of rods, graded and waiting! i was entwined with a deep knowing of familiarity and a sense of coming home. i think i have done this before. Mike gifted me with a willow technique book and as we drove home from Sydney to WA i was weaving my first willow basket. he gifted me with more guidance and great yarns on subsequent visits.
this willow so recently harvested by Jesse’s hand on Mike’s farm on the south island; where he grows all his willow stock for the years intricate weavings. these wildly twined together green shoots tell me a beautiful story from Jesse’s fingers and travels.
this morning it found it’s purpose. mayhap one day it will hold eggs from our own hens. i would have hens laying various coloured eggs. white for dyeing of course, pale blue, tiny speckles, sturdy brown, the pale pink/apricot, and on and on.
my beloved also brought me a master basket of Mike’s, a French ‘panier a jour’. a lightweight and sturdy market basket which has already had a few fruitful adventures. if i wasn’t using it so much it would be high on the wall of honour.
i won’t question why these wonderful woven vessels make me so happy.
i shall simply rest in the joy of it all and carry on weaving.
my friends, i am a true basket case.
and looking forward to north queensland’s abundant coconut fronds for weaving in just a couple of weeks!
ps much love to you Mike and AnneMarie, thanks for putting some fat on Jesse x
Sometimes our 1.8m by 6m home really feels like 1.8m by 6m!!
Waking up to chaos and cramped ness after the weekends work at the markets is over. Last night was an incomplete pack down and departure as I had a date with Lily, to kick off her birthday week, to see Tango Amor (brilliant Traditional tango music on Violin, cello and Accordian)
Hence this mornings scattering of random objects…
In a motor home everything really must have its place and be in it before we drive anywhere. Very quickly I can be overwhelmed by this scenario of disorder.
Remember the scene from the castle film where they have to move all the various cars to pull out in the one they need. It can be a bit like that around here. (Can you move the guitars, oil tin, clothing, books, wee bucket, didgeridoos, sticks, tractors and shoes so I can get to my toothbrush…)
thank you Jesse for evacuating with the kids this morning. (Self preservation mechanism!)
I know the space will take less ten minutes to be back to vogue living but far out! It’s a moment of remembering how tiny the space is we four live in! Is that less than 2sq metres per person?? We are a bit crazy… Or brave.. Or both…
must remember our garden is the whole country…
Ps before this photo was uploaded its all ship shape and the eggs are cooking for breakfast:) (wow I can cope so much better than a year ago even though it is Monday!)
And Lily loved the performance as did I, she is so inspired by the potential of her violin playing and the ladies costume and sparkly stilettos…
When I grow up I can be like her…
So heart filled to share this moment with my girl and see her confidently imagine out another possible future of creativity!
A ceaseless sea
Rippling splash towards me
Ever longing for the shore
cloud grey silken quilt wraps the expanse of my view
The mountains wear muslin shawls
The dawn has but dimly lit the stickiness of day
The earth holds its breath this
Yellow the bracken
Golden the sheaths
Rosy the apples
Crimson the leaves
Mist on the hillside
Clouds grey and white
Autumn good morning
Author unknown to me
I revel in this crisp changing
Colors of the season enthrall me and I have to pull over and pause to savour
This tree is on my friends property
Almost a year ago I arrived to be present with their big children while mama was birthing
In the morning this tree shone vermillion crimson russet gold against a soft ash sky just like today
I will remember this baby’s arrival when I see the trees like this and the warm stillness of her family home
and on the way home, i see the trees like this adorned with a rainbow. I am aware for the first time of Cedar’s conscious recognition of a rainbow! a special moment… mama, burple wed gween in sky…
this classic Australian Grug book has been preparing him for the Autumn/Winter rainbow season…
The littles playing with our friends childhood animals
Out of the box and dusted off
New imaginings amuse them endlessly
While the big ones are
Delighting in the company of friends
And I’m savoring sore cheeks from smiling
Easter baskets with gifts from the Easter Hare and a bush hunt for round treasures…
Happy sighs of ohh as crystals, golden suns, wooden eggs, fruit(apple plum passionfruit) sultanas and yes a few squares of G&B organic chocolate are revealed from their shiny silver paper!