Golden-Girl in Fleeting Fields of Gold

In late afternoon light we pass an empty lot of uncut grass on the way home from the beach. A mistake to be fixed, the light turns the grass into a wonderland of gold. Ever one to grab a photo opportunity I ignore Beloved's mutterings about snakes - It's winter, hon, it'll be fine - and we run through the field.

The next day we pass again and the field of gold is nothing but drab grey stubble. The mowers came by in the early morning and decimated it.

Seize the moment! 

time-deprived & daylight

In my more optimistic moments I signed up for an online photography course - to use up all my oodles of free time. It wasn't such a crazy move because I did manage an amazing anthropology course that I'm still mulling over.

But the photography course? Good and all. But not brilliant enough to take time from sleep. Possibly if Beloved hadn't got sick for three weeks, while on night shifts for two of them, and the kids didn't also take it in turns to get sick I might have managed module two, and possibly three and four, but hey, c'est la vie. Two more nights of night shift and Beloved hasn't thrown up in a few days. (Yep. night shift while vomiting - only so many sick-days in a year and lots of mouths to feed. Do you not feel safe in your hospital knowing that doctors will turn up unless they physically cannot move and share all their lovely germs with you. Twice Beloved went in to work to be sent home.)

As part of the photography course (okay, I'll admit, the first module) we were advised to take photos in the heart of the day and in the dawn and dusk to study the difference.

The weather in Queensland is currently amazing. I mean truly. I'm not being sarky. It's gorgeous. I haven't had a sweat rivulet in weeks. Sweat moustache - yes. Rivulet - no. We wear robes in the morning. And slippers. I give thanks just about every minute of every day. But to get back on track, all this means it's possible to go out in the middle of the day without girding for battle and preparing to meet your end with heat stroke and all.

So we did. En famille. Go out in the middle in the day. Which is something I don't really recommend in Queensland for most of the year unless you're beside a large body of water, which, unfortunately isn't really practical what with school and work generally not being beside large bodies of water bearing cool breezes.

And photos were taken.

Behold the tribe in the (mostly) harsh light of day.

 Mucking around with shadows - as you do in the heat of the day - he's holding a stick in his mouth but likes to think he looks like he has an arrow through the head.

 Isnt' my girl gorge? I cannot believe how she's grown and how old she is and how old she thinks she is... Sometimes I get glimpses of the woman she's going to be and it amazes me.

 They Cheeky-Monkey. Armed. She is strong and she is dangerous. Do not be fooled. She is a super-villain in the making.

seven months

My wonder girl is seven months old and she is all giggles and cuddles and - surprise - wonder at the amazing of the world. She is crawling - fast. Pulling herself to standing, trying to climb onto things and eating everything in sight. If it'll fit in her mouth she'll try to eat it.

Except the baby food you buy in the supermarket which she believes is poison.

Her favourite foods are roast sweet potato, pumpkin, avocado, banana. And she loves them so much she pushes aside my spoon to use both hands to shovel them in. Oddly, I tend to feed her outside, on the grass.

Her sisters, brother are the most wonderful things in the world - after mummy, the milk and the dog.

She has a laugh like a muppet-machine gun.

Her first tooth has just come through.

And she sings, a gorgeous musical gurgle. I believe she might be the most musical of the girls. The bar is not particularly high.

She has a strong, if unsubtle, sense of humour. Hair-pulling, eye-gouging and nose chomping are all hil.ar.i.ous to the max.

She has recently learnt how to stick her tongue out and make it go pointy.  I asked Beloved about it and if we should take her to the doctor (not him, another one) and he showed me how his tongue can also go pointy. And roll. This is weird. But sort of clever.

Seven month olds are very clever. And pleased with themselves. And the world.

And they have the most radiant, joyous, cheeky smiles in the world.