When all the signs point to yes.

This week I went home. By home I mean that Ben and the girls and I drove back to the South Coast where Ben and I grew up and met, and where we left our home and our families and our jobs and our friends 3 years ago to embark on this adventure.

SO so much has happened in those 3 years. We’ve changed. The girls have grown. The places and people have changed.


It felt simultaneously like a spiritual homecoming, and also a spiritual cord-cutting.


Whilst staying at my mum’s, I walked the beaches I played on as a toddler, dug my toes into the sand, smelled the salty briny air, and connected. The ocean is so much apart of me. I was never a surfer like my parents, but whenever I go to the beach, people always comment that I look at home in the water. And I am home.


One day, while we sat over looking the harbour of my hometown eating lunch, I was relaying a story to Ben and pointed vaguely out to sea – and pointed right at a passing whale, announcing its presence with a glorious spray of water. I literally went “Oh-OH MY GOD! THERE’S A WHALE!” What a gift! A glorious all-knowing spirit animal, there just for me at the perfect moment.

humpback_whale_by_kaylalily

And I met with some old friends, that I hadn’t seen for a while, and we laughed and connected, and I realized that they’d all changed so much. And I was so different. But our friendship was the same. As with all true friends, distance and time cannot break bonds. We were still connected by our hearts.

But then some things, inevitably, were different. And I felt a kind of ‘letting go’. Like some of these childhood ways, comforts, habits: It was time for them to be put away. I dyed my hair, bought some new clothes, and forgot to check-in with all the usual ‘imaginary opinions’ that I used to check-in with as an insecure people pleaser. My step dad obviously hated my new hair. And I laughed and I truly didn’t care.


I saw an old friend clearly, for the first time in a long time, and realized I’ve changed so much, that it was time to let them go. They obviously did not see my worth anymore, and I felt uncomfortable, inconvenient and taken for granted. But I know my worth now. And I could choose to let go of what was no longer worthy of me. And I did. And it felt INCREDIBLE.

Then on the way home I listened to Clarissa Pinkola Estes’ “Woman Who Run With The Wolves” and had my mind absolutely blown open. I felt like she was summarizing the entire spiritual awakening I have had in the last few years!

Women_who_run_w-330

There were moments while listening where I audibly gasped, as I heard the author literally tell ‘my story’. If you haven’t read this, I highly recommend it!

It was as if she was writing the concluding paragraph to the ‘coming home, but letting go’ essay of the past week.

And I got home, and I threw open the windows of Hill Shadow House, and I scrubbed my kitchen floor, and I took out the garbage, and ripped all the unneccessary clothes from my wardrobe and bagged them up for charity. It was a purging. A throwing off of all that no longer serves me. a literal shedding of the skin; climbing out of my chrysalis to unfold my new wings. To welcome in this new era, and step into my power as the Wool Witch.

Here I was: Home at last. In my body, at my hearth, ready to use my intuition and the ancient knowledge of my sisters to create and to work the magic.

And then, the Universe threw me one final lightening bolt.


I had listed my last remaining skein of Activated Yarn onto an online Facebook yarn auction before I left. A roll of the dice. I reasoned that the person who needed it would find it. It was a golden bamboo-blended skein of Luck & Abundance. Infused with reiki energy, Zucchini flower, Aventurine and Citrine. A lady bid for it, saying she was going through a rough time, and could use some good luck. A second lady bid, and finally won the auction. She then contacted me by email saying that she had paid for the yarn, but could I contact the first lady for her address and send it there. She had bought as a gift for her.

Complete strangers. A completely random act of kindness brought about and manifested by threads, earth and energy. Ancestral medicine that made better three people.

That, my friends, is BIG MAGIC.

I felt overwhelmed and humbled by what had just occurred. The universe took me on this journey, showing me who I was before, and who I have now become. It showed me that I was rebirthing, shedding off all that no longer served me, while connecting to what is  deep, deep in my spirit. Then it finished up with a veritable “mic drop”.

BOOM!: THIS. THIS IS WHAT YOU DO.

The Volva has arrived.

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Know your yarn. 

The beauty of being a small business is knowing EXACTLY where your materials come from. And that it REALLY is ethical and compassionate.

Sure, you can buy commercial, mass-produced fibre. But you’ll have no idea if it’s from factory farmed animals, has been chemically treated, or made using unethical trade/labour. But it’ll probably be cheap.

I like to know EVERYTHING about my yarn, so you can too. ❤️👍🏼 The fibres are meticulously hand-selected from small local farmers. (Some are right here at Hill Shadow!) My dyes are sourced from a small business based in outer Melbourne VIC, who supplies ethical, organic and fair trade products. All labour (washing, combing, spinning, dyeing) is done by ME. By hand. At my hearth, in the Yarra Ranges, VIC.

So, I’d like to introduce you to one of my business’ cashmere suppliers.

Everybody: George. George, this is everybody.

Living your life can be an act of rebellion.

Here’s my big lesson this week: Living life for yourself can be a HUGE act of rebellion.

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In modern day society, hubby and I don’t live a conventional life. We don’t have a huge mortgage. He works, I stay home with the girls, and work my home businesses. We don’t have credit cards – we try to spend only the money we actually have.

Sure, I could go back to full time teaching now. We could buy a new car on credit, take out a mortgage to buy a new McMansion in the suburbs and “have it all’. I could eat dairy and meat. That would make a lot of people around us much more comfortable.

But I value what I do for my family by being at home much more than society could pay me for working full time. My girls wont remember a shiny new marble benchtop, or a new car. But they will remember walking home from school hand-in-hand with Mummy, and having hot pikelets for afternoon tea, and climbing their swingset until its time to run over and hug dad as he pulls into the driveway.

And-every-day

My husband loves his job. I love mine. We do ok. We’re ok with not having a lot of stuff, because we have SO SO MUCH to be grateful for.

But this week, I’ve been challenged: Do I have the courage to be what I am, and to do what I do, even if it makes some of the people I love uncomfortable?

I read this article by Julia over at SacredFamiliar and it resonated with me a lot.

I spent ALOT of my teens and 20s doing what I thought was ‘best’. I had the voices of my parents in the back of my head at all times, and I always did what I thought would make them happiest. I never made a decision without mentally consulting everyone I knew to check if they’d be ok with it.

But actually, it’s not my responsibility to make everyone else comfortable and happy.

What if I had the courage to live my truth? With no apologies. And no explanations.

What if I called myself a witch.

What if I said, “I choose not to work fulltime.”

What if I said, “I don’t want a big new house.”

What if I said, “I actually don’t support the dairy farmers’.

These statements are all potential time-bombs. They all have the potential to be misunderstood. To be criticized. To make people – including the people I love – VERY uncomfortable.

But here they are. In writing, for all to see. My truth. Here’s me having the courage to speak it. Here’s me being FUCKING BRAVE. My act of rebellion.

Here’s me living my life for ME, not for what others will think.

Because – hand on heart – “This is what’s important.”


 

 

Why I’m not “A Vegan”.

I had an interesting learning experience last night. I made a post on a vegan forum (one that claimed to be inclusive, peaceful, and accepting of all questions) – “If you could source yarn knowing it’s origins (from rescued/pet sheep, organic, spun by hand in Australia, dyed naturally with plant dye) would you choose it over synthetic fibre? Asking for business research. All comments which are positive/constructive will be appreciated and respected.”

Some people said “Yeah sounds good!”

Others said “Mmm I personally wouldn’t, but my mother in law is a keen crafter – she’d love it!”

Some said “Nah. Not vegan. Any animal product is not by definition ‘vegan’. Have you thought about cotton or hemp?”

I learnt so much, and most people were so lovely and positive.

Others were downright viscious.

I had no right to call myself vegan. Stupid people ask stupid questions. This question has no place on a vegan forum. I dont really care about people anyway.

These reponses are why I shy away from saying the word ‘vegan’ when talk to people. Why I hesitate, holding my breath for the uncomfortable silence that inevitably follows, and watching the other person prepare their defenses. I dont want to be associated with extremists. (Wait… is this how it Muslims feel?!?!)

So I learned something. I eat vegan food that does not come from animals. I try not to wear leather (unless it’s 2nd hand). I believe cruelty and exploitation of animals is wrong.

But would I choose commercially produced, environmentally unsustainable, chemically treated, possibly sweatshopped synthetic fabrics over the fleece my goats have shed and I have handspun, just for the ‘no animal fibres’ principle alone? No way.

I dont believe in “ethical perfection”, and I dont have one philosophy. I wouldn’t choose animals over environment, animals over humans, or humans over animals. I dont think it’s that black and white.
I ride my horse. Therefore I’m not a vegan. I vaccinate and desex my dogs. Therefore I am not a vegan. I feed my dogs meat. My kids wear their cousins’ hand-me-down leather shoes rather than buying new. I buy and cook local free range meat for my husband (but not often!), because I respect him as a person and respect his choices. I adopt ex-battery hens rather than have them be killed, and sell their free range eggs cheaply, so that others will have an alternative to caged supermarket eggs. Therefore I’m not a vegan.

One forum member put it beautifully:

“I just try to do the ‘most vegan thing’ in each situation”.

Perfect. That’s my mantra. Well nearly: “I just do my best to be kind. What is the best, most compassionate thing I can do here?

I dont think vegans are wrong. I dont know whats right or wrong. I’m not an expert. I’m not the Messiah (“Im just a very naughty boy!”). I dont need a definition, a title, or a ‘box’ to put my beliefs in. I just do my best. We’re all just trying to do our best.

Respect and love to everyone who’s just trying to do their best.

xx

Doubters, doctors, denial, and decisions.

I was speaking to Ben this morning about his treatment and how hard it is to have faith in the medical industry through chemotherapy.

I mean, a few months ago, Ben seemed fine. He was happy and functioning, but his problem wasn’t visible. His cancer was small and new, and not yet outwardly affecting him physically in anyway.

In contrast to this, now that he is having treatment, NOW his suffereing is so clearly visible. NOW he looks like someone who is sick. NOW we are being told that the poisons being injected into him are so caustic, they will burn your skin. NOW he is taking pills and pills and pills.

Suddenly, I have to put immense trust into these strangers in the medical industry, that all this suffering is for the greater good. That their intentions are pure, and that there is no conspiracy at work here. And at these times I can understand opinions like Freelees and Belles.

I don’t know any facts: I only know what ‘they’ tell me. I have no personal experience: All the people I have ever known that have had cancer have had treatment, but have then – eventually – died. The doubters have as many anecdotes, facts and statistics as the doctors. Are any of them really the unbiased truth?

I guess the conclusion I have come to here is “I dont know”, but ultimately “it’s not my decision”. It’s Ben’s body, his journey, and I support whatever he choses to do. And he chooses to put his faith in science and conventional medicine. But, that wont stop me from reading and searching. There’s nothing to stop me from finding complimentary medicines and enlisting a good diet based on unprocessed, plant-based, organic, wholefoods.

I mean, It cant hurt, right?

Christmas Concerts, Chemotherapy, Crayons and Cookbooks.

Things are winding up for the year, but it doesn’t mean we’re any less busy! Infact we’re flying around to christmas carols, end of year functions, concerts, and presentations! Phew! We had a busy one when both Kate’s ballet concert AND hip hop end of year concert were on on the same weekend!

Which was tonnes of fun and SO SO cute. Ben even came third in the Dad’s Dance-off competition! (That was at the hip hop concert. Would’ve been a very different competition at the ballet concert.)

Thie girls have decorated and helped me wrap presents. Kate made all of her friends presents this year, and we made handmade gifts for the family. Our decorating in the house is fairly minimal, as we’ll spend christmas day and boxing day with our families up in NSW. Cookie the dog will come with us for the trip, but Will and the chooks will stay behind to man the fort! They’re being fed by a friend while we’re gone. Ugh, I HATE not seeing my horse on christmas day. He is very much a part of my family and I hate that I cant give him his bag of carrots and cuddles on the day. Oh well, its only a few days.

At least he finally seems to have acclimatised to Melbourne, and is looking really well! Finally! He had us a bit worried there for a while!

It’s been fairly hot and muggy – which the garden loves! – but which sends us inside most afternoons to escape the heat! The girls have taken to drawing and colouring of late. Its cute to see them getting along so well together. And though Tara still doesn’t say much, she always lets us know in no uncertain terms what she wants. The girls are so different that way!: Katie was an very sweet, easy going, even tempered baby. Tara is a firey, spirited kid. She wants to do it on her own! She wants THAT one, no not that one, THAT one. She wants her pink hair clip, to wear these shoes, and what you’re eating! She makes me laugh – she definitely knows her own mind already!

The chooks have been laying 6 eggs a day, and Lennon seems to have finally recovered his mojo! And his crow!

Mrs Fox seems to have settled down a bit now – I think her babies may have left the den. She’s less ravenous for food, and we’ve not seen her or her young ones for a few weeks. Which makes me really happy as I’ve been able to let the chooks free range again for a good part of each day.

Tara adores the chooks, and they have absolutely no fear of her. She loves to collect the eggs and feed them bread scraps. Although you have to be sure she doesn’t mix the 2 jobs up: Today she collected the eggs in her bucket, then promptly sat down took and egg out and threw it to the chooks. Whoops. I managed to save the other 5 and swap them for actual chook food before she tossed any more!

Its such a privildge to live here and have this life, and I feel lucky everyday with the freedom and space the girls have, and that we can grow this food and these animals. I cant imagine life in an inner-city apartment. It would certinly be very very different.

However we’re not that isolated that we’re cut-off from city amenities, which is lucky, as Ben recently received the bad news that he has had Testicular Cancer and will need to undergo some chemo therapy in the new year following the surgery he just had. It was certainly a shock, I was so sure he was going to be cleared, it took me a while to get a grip on myself. We have had such a tough and life-changing 12 months: Why was this happening to us?! Now?! When we have 2 young kids, no family around us, and just before christmas!? It wasnt fair! We’re good people! ben is young and strong. We’ve been through so much already!? Why why why?!

I still dont know. All I know is that cancer happens to lots of very good people, and that we are strong, and we will get through this thing too. We have to. we will take it one step at a time, and do what we need to do. And we will ask for help. And we will breathe, and hug the girls, and cry, and be angry, and just keep plodding along. that’s all we can do.

Of course I did what I usually do. I went to the library.

Oh the library. Place of safety, and wonder, and information, and the smell of musty, papery, printy booky loveliness. As the only child of a single mum who worked very very long hours when I was groing up, I spent alot of time in my local library. It was my second home. My safe place. I knew all the librarians by name, and they all knew me. I had a favourite spot. I knew the opening hours off by heart. And I still feel an overwhelming sense of ‘home’ the minute I walk into a library. Im quite claustrophobic by nature, but I love sitting between narrow shelves with books towereing on all sides of me. A Book Igloo.

I’ve borrowed a few titles in preparation. Food-related, of course. Because that’s my other defense mechanism: cooking. Cooking and Reading. Yeah – that’s exactly what you want in an alien invasion or a zombie apocalypse. The enemy will be bearing down, and I’ll be quoting Jane Austin and whipping up a souffle. Brilliant.

I’ve borrowed Belle Gibson’s The Whole Pantry – she’s a woman living with inoperable brain cancer, who is treating herself wholistically and using alternative means. I’ve borrowed The Cancer Fighting Kitchen – I gotta try this broth! And Pete Evan’s Healthy Every Day – which is a bit intimidating, I have to say. Ceviche? Okra? Yuzu? Gremolata? Whut?! Slow down, Pete! Slow down!

But first: Christmas. All that can wait til after christmas.

I’ve made my Nanny Dorothy’s famous christmas pudding – an annual tradition – and it’s ready for custard and cream! Here’s the recipe, passed down through 4 generations of women in my family, and the pudding making-torch will be passed to Katie when she’s older.

Make it. And eat it warm, with custrad, surrounded by your loved ones. And dont forget to tip your face skyward and tell Dorothy how yummy it is. Give her a thumbs up: She’d like that.

Dorothy’s Famous Chrissy Pud

500g mixed dried fruit (whatever you like! I like sultanas, blueberries, cherries and currants.)
6 oz plain flour (Yeah it’s ounces. it’s an old recipe k?! Try finging a converter online. There’s an app for that…)
1/2 t mixed spice
1/2 t nutmeg
2 oz breadcrumbs
4 oz butter (do yourself a favour use butter, not marg!)
1 grated carrot (see?! Veggies! Healthy!)
3 oz brown sugar
3 eggs (please choose free range x )
dash vanilla
1 t lemon juice
1 t Parisian Essence (Yes that’s a thing. It’s in the supermarket. Near the vanilla essences and food colouring and stuff…)
Brandy to flavour. (Or rum essence in a pinch)

Soak fruit in brandy (or essence) overnight in a sealed container, shaking occasionally. In a large bowl, sift flour and spices. Add butter and belend well. Add crumbs, fruit mix, carrot and brown suagr. Mix then add beaten eggs and essences. (If the mix is too thick, you can moisten it with a little milk.)
Place in a well-greased pudding tin, placing alfoil across the top then the lid to ensure a good seal.Place pudding dish into a large boiler pot. Fill pot with boiling water, so water leverl is just under the lid of the pudding dish. (Place a marble or two in the water – if it’s beginning to boil dry, the marble will ‘ting-ting-ting’ on the side of the pot and warn you!) Constantly top up water as needed. place lid on and boil 5 hours.

Well, I hope you have a wonderful chrissy/holiday with your loved ones.
How will you spend it?

Drive safely, be happy, give generously, laugh muchly.
xx

Disappointments, drownings, damage, and darned good recipes!

Oh dear…

Well, I have prooved my point about not being able to grow a thing and having no green thumbs to speak of…. Of our 5 little herb seedlings we planted last weekend: Not one survived.

Partially – in our defense! – this was because 2 days after we planted the little babies, we had a freak hailstorm (hail the size of marbles!) and there was a bit of damage to their delicate little fronds.

The rest has been eaten by… Something.

Damn.

So far, our food growing/homesteading/’feed our whole family from the garden’ dream is looking pretty grim. 0/5. Not only was I feeling particularly glum about this failure, but then found that one of our poor hens had fallen into a horse water trough while we’d been out, and drowned. And another is looking like she’s not long for this world (although I suspect that’s more to do with her age, than bad luck).

It’s hard not to feel disheartened. How do we combat a pest in our veggie patch when we’re not even sure what it is?! Rabbits? Slugs? Birds? Will this be our fate?: Working hard and spending a fortune to feed the wildlife?!

Something that is still feeding us, however is the citrus – THANK GOODNESS FOR THE CITRUS! It has served to keep my faith that we can grow food here! Oh sure, the cockatoos take a share of the oranges, but we can afford to share! There’s plenty to go round!

Katie’s latest favourite activity is to pick a bucket of oranges off the tree, juice them all like crazy, and make orange icypoles! It’s wonderful knowing she’s learning about where food comes from, but also making a preservative/refined sugar free snack, and she can do it all by herself!
And I found a wonderful EASY MICROWAVE LEMON CURD recipe which I have been making use of to use up all those lemons!
Now Im including this without permission from the author – but only because I dont know how to contact her to ask her! But it’s just too good not to include, and full credit goes to Nancy Johnson of Speers Court – Nancy, I hope you dont mind! x
Easy Microwave Lemon Curd 
(Makes about 600mls-ish.)
180ml lemon juice
zest of all the juiced lemons (I only actually used zest of 2 lemons)
4 egg yolks
3 eggs extra
3/4 cup caster sugar
125g unsalted butter
Place all ingredients into a microwave proof bowl and microwave on medium for 6-8 min stopping to whisk every minute. (You know it’s done when it thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon)
I strained the zest out of mine before I chilled it, but you certainly dont have to!

SO SO SO YUMMY!

How do you keep pests out of your garden?
What do your kids/grandkids love to cook?

Just heading out to put some wire over that water trough: Chooks cant swim well. Apparently.
RIP little chookie x

This post is brought to you by ignorance.

I’ve just finished reading Jackie French’s ‘ Year in The Valley’  and something pretty weird just struck me. You might think it’s odd that this just struck me, when I have dreamed of being on land for so long, but here it is:

I have NO IDEA how to grow stuff.

I mean seriously: Beyond ‘stick the rooty-end in the ground, leaves pointing up, and water it’, I am completely ignorant. I have no idea what plants to grow where. I have no idea how to plan a garden. Previous attempts on my part have resulted in disaster.

Like the time I planted 6 snow pea seedlings, which promptly were dug-up and eaten within 2 days by birds. I planted carrots. They grew into all leafy top, no carrot bottom. I planted broccoli, it went immediately to seed without any broccoli. I planted cabbage. The slugs loved me for it.

Any success I have ever had growing ANYTHING was an accident. A mystery vine grew in our backyard. I let it. It grew and produced what turned out to be 4 decent sized but very tasteless pumpkins! Hurrah! I grew lemons. No let me rephrase that. Someone planted a lemon tree on the block YEARS before and it absolutely DROWNED us in lemons each year, through no effort of mine. One year we had a bumper crop of beans. Yeah: That was weird. I tried tomatoes. Since my grandmother supplemented her husband’s income by farming tomatoes around her 7 children, and my step dad grows OUTSTANDING tomatoes, I though maybe – just maybe – I had a genetic ‘tomato-growing’ advantage… The tomatoes grew GIANT. Well the plants did. Too bad they didn’t produce a single fruit.

Yep, if it were up to my gardening skills, my family would starve. But possibly the local insects and birds would be extremely well-fed.

I have a lot to learn.

What struck me reading Jackie French’s book, is that she lives in a very similar environment to that which we will be residing in on Hill Shadow Farm. A bushland valley, alive with wildlife. And the question that kept coming into my head again and again is “How the HELL does she do it?” How does she harvest veritable gluts of food for her family, while her garden is constantly under siege – by her own admission – from wombats, cockatoos and lyrebirds! Why don’t grubs eat all her spinach before she gets to pick any? Why don’t the weeds – which she admits to never pulling out – swamp her seedlings and take over the garden? Why aren’t her cucumbers furry and moldy? Why aren’t fruit fly attacking her peaches? What the hell is the secret?!?!

Oh man.

I have ALOT to learn.

I wonder if I’ll always feel like this?

I’m wondering if my romance with this place will end shortly after we move in and the novelty wears off. Once day-to-day drudgery sets in, will its wildness start to irritate me?

 
At the moment I love the cold crisp air that burns my cheeks. I love the bubbling creek trickling over the weeds and stones. I cannot get enough of that mountain: I cant wait to explore its trails and rainforest darkness. Today I pottered down to the back of the paddock to remove some branches that were over hanging on the fence, and I noticed a little trail snaking off deep into the bush. And I was itching to explore.
 
I wonder if after a few months I will be completely ambivalent to it? If it will be just more mud and inconvenience, trees and work, the way I’ve heard people talk about their farms (and inwardly cursed their luck at having such things to complain about!). I’ve waited and dreamed and waited and prayed for a property of my own ever since I can remember, and I wonder if this is the beginning of a beautiful love affair, or a big culture shock.
 
Or maybe both!

6 weeks!

We’re on the countdown!!! Yippee!

We’ve been told the current mountain house residents move out on the 1st August – which means moving day is getting closer!

As it’s such a blustery, windy, squall-y day out today, I’ve been inside with the biggest pot of tea you’ve ever seen, my Grass Roots magazines, homesteading books & blogs, and my imagination. Here’s some things I’d like to do in the new place:

  • Honey

I’ve been told a swarm of bees regularly returns to the old shed. I don’t know if they’re native or feral. I know NOTHING about bee keeping. But the whole idea has my imagination going wild!

  • Vegetables & Fruit

We’ve got visions of using recycled windows to make mini green houses, upcycled brick pallets as fences and to grow herbs and strawberries in. There’s already established mandarins, oranges, lemon, lime, grape fruit, pumpkins and tomatoes. Im having visions of berries, zucchinis, beans, peas, spinach, beetroot, caulis…. *oh my*

  • Chickens

There’s already 8 Isa Brown hens and a very handsome rooster of unknown breeding in residence, and whom we will inherit upon moving in. Free range eggs!!! Baby chicks! Meat…???? (Don’t know if I could bring myself to… you know…)

  • Yabbies

Already in residence in the dam!

  • Goat

Firstly for weed control. But maybe milk? Meat? (Again…. *cringe*)

  • Rabbits

Already in residence, and kept in check by fox family (Also already in residence!). Wouldn’t want to mess with the population too much as it might encourage Mr & Mrs Fox to look further afield to feed their babies (ie, our chickens!). However, maybe we can trap(?)/shoot(?)/lure humanely into a pot(?) one every now and again…?

  • Interior decorating

Think open wood fire, patchwork quilts, crochet throws, eclectic recycled furniture, bunting, vintage greens, miss-matched tea cups and dinnerware, huge plaited rugs, and the smell of freshly baked bread. Mmmmmm….

  • An outdoorsy life style for my kids

Digging, swinging, treehouses, sunflower tepee, bonfires, damper, bushwalks, worm farms, strawberry binges, picnics, ponies….