so yesterday...

Baby has big eyes - and they're blue!

After three hazel eyed babies it's still a bit of a shock to see blue eyes looking up at me.  These are ancient photos - taken a whole two months ago and a world away. These were pre-solids. Pre-crawling. Pre-winter. (Or what passes for winter here in Queensland. Today is the first day of winter and it's a balmy 21celsius. My Extravaganza and I were arguing during prayers last night 'Thank you God for this beautiful weather, but a few degrees cooler-' 'Hotter! We want hotter! Much hotter!' 'Cooler. This is good. But a bit more invigorating-' 'Hotter! Hotter!' It was very un-holy.)

Anyway. These were opportunistic photos taken of my little girl at five months. In the midst of doing the washing I looked at the basket, the babe on my hip and the uncut grass and thought 'hmmm'.

Yes. To digress - again - these were not taken in a field. They were, indeed, taken in the back garden. We've mowed it since then. But it's not looking that much different.

My Wonder-Girl was over it.

As you can tell by the lack of giggles. And we were photo-bombed many times by the dog and the older girls. But here - encapsulated for all time - (or at least while computers and internet remains. Beloved and I are preparing for an apocalypse probably announced by tweet when someone in China disses Trumps hair. Water-purifying straw. Check. Parachute rope. Check. Life-time supply of hard-copy books. Hmmm. Maybe a few more -) is our little Wonder -Girl at five months.

of flying & jumping

Overhead rosellas squawk - hundreds, thousands, of them, wheeling and swooping, forming groups and then dividing. Rain is starting to fall from a soft grey sky, darkening as night descends.

I'm in wet bathers, babe on my hip, worried about the rain and my camera, but entranced by the cacophony of birds, their swiftness, their freedom, trying to capture the amount of them, their glorious motion, but knowing I'll only get an echo. Only occasionally do I have a glimpse of their bright colours - the light is too dim and they are too high.

It's mother's day and we've driven across the bridge - my favourite bridge - which I'm thinking of renaming Pelican Bridge for the birds that always sit on all the lights - to the island.

It only took us - what, two hours to wait out Adventure Boy while he cavorted on the roof, not wanting to come to the beach with us - despite knowing full well he'd be likely to get both fish and chips and an ice-cream when we got there - unless we caved and gave him the money to buy diamonds for a computer game. Two hours later - after we'd got out the picnic blankets and moved from the car to the front lawn - he finally said yep, I'm ready to go.

And when we arrive of course he loves it, and is so happy playing on the flying fox with his sister, long after night has fallen - that he won't leave...

We wander the shore, jump off the fishing platform into the currents of Pumicestone Passage, scoff fish and chips, build sandcastles and maybe see dolphins (or maybe floating wood).

And then the sun sets behind the delicate formations of the Glasshouse Mountains, the light softened with rain.

Rain. Sea. Island. Birds. Flight.

We drive back in the dark with the gentle falling rain and the heaters on - still in wet bathers, but content. Solace for another hectic week.

 (Giggle Bear ran into the edge of a door frame chasing balloons with her sister. The doorframe won.)

 Wonder-Girl is so proud of her sitting. As yet she's only commando-crawling - fast - but real crawling is so close.

to the island...

Harsh mid-day sun is not the most flattering light for either people or places. When I first heard of the new island at Australia Zoo I couldn't wait to go - it sounded completely enchanting. When I finally got all the kids their - arriving in the heat of the day with three worn out poppets, heavily pregnant and all of us tired and cranky - I was under-whelmed. 

We went again on the weekend, and the weather was mild, Beloved was with us and we arrived at the island at dusk - and it was everything I'd hoped it would be. I am a big believer in the magic of islands - and this time, Bindi's Island had lashings of it. 

This time, we could really appreciate the whimsy and charm and the well thought out landscaping. 

(Yes, by the time we reached the island half the kids had abandoned their shoes and we'd had a-hem... a few melt-downs. But also a lovely day) 

Autumnal

The light is golden, the temperature mellow - the kids climb the trees and balance as they walk along the wall and over the cavernous rock. Beloved has a holiday and we're enjoying time outside.

Being outside - without sweat - all together, is a kind of magic. There's no sign of leaves changing colour - foliage is strictly green - but the change of light and temperature is it's own kind of blessed and long awaited autumnal.

(Let's tenderly feed Doll-Doll to the giant croc) 

 Later, in the pre-dusk, the melt-downs will start, but in the early part of the day the kids run and climb and, with an extra set of hands around, I can pick up my hefty camera and enjoy playing with light and capturing moments in time.

It's not until the camera is in my hands that I realise how much I've missed it. I'm not as fast as I was, I can't get all the shots  I want  - with the baby in her carrier, I'm so much more lumbersome and my wild ones are hard to keep up with, but I love just making the attempt.