into the forest (and the trickery of birds)

Sprocket - his teddies in his backpack, carrying the picnic bag on his head, testing the sharpness of some grass.


We packed a picnic and the favoured teddies, pulled on gumboots and headed off for a teddy bears picnic in the woods.

Although it was mid-morning by the time we reached the forest - in the holidays our going-out-preperations are leisurely - there was still a slight haze in the air.

The air was thick and rich, moist and fragrant of growing stuffs. The sound of the stream followed by our side as we walked along to the perfect picnic table for our teddies and us. Littlest was held on my chest in her sling, her warmth and gentle breathing reassuring, her sleeping face perfect, her skin pearly.

Her first trip to the forest, she slept all through it, lulled by the motion as I walked.

The stream that ran beside us made its watery rushing noise and all was still and peaceful but for the whining of the kids. "This is boring. I'm hungry. Are we there yet? I'm so tired… yadda yadda repeat. And then repeat again. On some days they love the walk, studying the stream for wildlife, jumping in puddles, playing with sticks, jumping from behind trees to scare us.

It wasn't one of those days.

We walked until we reach the picnic table, looking out for bunyips, pointing out brilliantly green mosses, animal trails and scats, falls of light on furling ferns, discussing the possibilities of platypuses and echidnas.

At the picnic table, eating our sandwiches, showing the gaudy toy pony the sights, the light fell gently and the noise of the water was a constant as the stream flowed steadily beside us and the children, eating, were at peace.

On the way back, the children ran on ahead of my sister-in-law and I, their tiredness gone with the promise of a playground they love with an extra-special slide at the nearby town. There had not been enough mud to tempt them into play…

And then there was the noise of fierce dogs  barking, of children crying. We broke into a trot, calling for the children, going as fast as we could with Littlest in a sling.

When we reached the children they were laughing. I asked them about the dogs, the crying, and they said what dogs? what crying? We didn't see anything.

And it occurred to me we have been tricked by a lyrebird - those perfect mimics. It amused me that I was taken in by a bird. I imagined it hiding in the undergrowth, working out what would most worry us, cause the biggest reaction. I imagined it laughing at us (silently) from its secret place.

Even though we didn't see it, and there's possibly another explanation for the noise, the path is called 'Lyrebird Walk' and it adds to the magic that it's possible we heard one, were thoroughly tricked by one.

Outside, in the green, there is always the possibility of magic - an echidna, a rainbow, a teasing bird...

Going down memory lane, this is the same walk - two years ago (and what happened to Poppet's curls!). Sometimes you really do just need the green.

A Walk in the Woods

On Saturday the kids and I drove home from a night away at the Big City visiting my parents. After a near sleepless night full of unsettled little ones and all the stresses of the freeway, when I arrived home I nearly handed the kids over to my Beloved and collapsed into bed with a cup of tea. Instead, we all trooped out to the forest.

My Poppet's look of wonder sums it all up. The rain drenched forest was magical. Whether craning up  to peer at the tree tops or studying the rain hung moss, there was enchantment to be found everywhere. Even the air, moist and heavy and laden with scent, was rejuvenating. We felt the mud with our toes, hid behind ferns, and, ahem, I might have taken a few photos...

Sunday Stills: Winter!

1. My Poppet, early morning colour blur. I always feel out of focus in the morning!
2. My Sprocket, still sleepy, getting dressed in front of the heater.
3. The first jonquil on the first day at winter. At my parents house.
4. My Poppet with some mandarin at her Nana and Grandpa's.
5. Raindrops.
6. Running along the path, chased by Giant Ants on the Lyrebird Walk near Mirboo North.
7. A lovely fern.
8. The miniature world.
9. Muddy puddles. Just before the wellies came off to feel the mud!

Winter has well and truly arrived. Although the autumn leaves still delight me, they are rapidly going. The nearby hills hold snow, early morning mists surround us and the mornings are indeed chilly. I'm not sure if it's because I'm a wuss (my Papa assures me it is!) but I am getting hours of valuable writing time at night when I can't sleep because I need the toilet... but I don't want to brave the freezing floor and cold air! We went on a lovely walk yesterday, all rich moist air, stillness, birdsong, moss and fern. I'll indulge myself with more photos tomorrow!

Joining with the wonderful Em over at The Beetleshack for Weekly Stills

Green

Sometimes you just need some green stuffs.

Sometimes you just need to get a big muddy,

study bugs

and be great swordswomen

We'd meant to go to the beach today, but somehow ended up in the forest instead.

We've been all festy and feral this week (and that's just my beloved and me, let's not get started on the kids) with head colds and coughs that just linger.*

Today the cool and green, the bird calls, the slow falling leaves, the noise of the fast flowing stream, gave us the space we needed to put ourselves back together again.

*My Beloved tried to tell me he has meningitis, and I was forced to inform him that what he actually has is med-student-itis, in other words, a common cold like the rest of us. Although he could probably put forth a decent case for 'man flu'.