Into the forest

We have been hibernating for most of the year, staying inside as first one cough and then isolation, and then a series of other coughs have kept us housebound. The small moments of sunrise, sunset, and the amazing stars in our remote town have been short moments amidst long stretches on the Inside.
We are starting to venture Outside. And recently the younger girls and I got to wander through temperate forest, the girls running, climbing, exploring, while I followed more slowly, savouring and capturing.
The light is soft, dappled, water-logged. My slightly out-of-focus photos as I adjust to the shifting light look like water colours.
And I am reminded again, that this is where my children belong, Outside, in the wild.
Another cold has caught us up, or the re-emergence of a previous one (my beloved has now been tested twice for Cov-id - both negative, but these colds are persistent) so we've had some more days inside while we've rested and tried to shake it. I've looked over the photos and sighed at the gently dappled green, the slants of gold, and how my girls look as if they run through a fairytale.

early morning & goodbyes

In early morning I wake to see the dawn through my bedroom window and hurry outside. Mist clings to the hills and leaves silver droplets on fences, spiderwebs, leaves. I hurry to capture it before my day begins. A moment of quiet.

It is bitter-sweet. 

I love the view from my back garden - soon to be ex-backgarden - but we've been told we have to leave.

It's understandable - four kids, two dog, two cats - are hard wearing on a house, add a few months of learning from home and yes, I understand the landlords point of view, we're not the best tenants.

But having to pack up now and find somewhere new, when we're all in lockdown, when my Beloved is working crazy, stressful hours, when for most of the day he can't breath properly through his mask, especially with his asthma, is hard.

We're on the final weeks until we have to move, and we still haven't finalised where we're going. My plan b. is to fly home with the kids to Victoria (I'm not very keen on Queensland at the moment) but my Beloved doesn't like that plan as he still needs to finish his registrar training and it might mean us being separated until he finishes. I'm not so fond of it myself, but it is at least a solid option.

I tell myself that in three weeks this time of uncertainty will be over, we'll have worked it all out, packed up the house and be settling in somewhere. In the meantime the kids are returning to school after two months at home, and I am enjoying the small moments. The dew on the spiders webs. The sunrises. The fierce kisses of my toddler, the gentler hugs of my six year old.

Everyones lock-down, everyones experience of the-time-of-Cov-id-19 is so different. This is ours. Chaos, uncertainty, beautiful sunrises, an abundance of hugs and kisses, and spiders webs.

vitamin sea

I looked out of the window this morning and then - sotto voice - called for the girls to quickly run over. About thirty feet away, beyond the garden fence on a slope of browned grass, was a delicately grey wallaby. (Or baby kangaroo. I'm still not good at telling. It was a hopping creature with large dark eyes.)

There are many things I love about our new home - looking up at night to see the smudgy pale and brightnesses that is the Milky Way. The lovely gifts my husband gets as a country GP - mandarine jam, date scones, honey, crab. The changing light on the hills outside.

But I miss the sea. And I miss home. And sometimes it feels very far away. (A twenty-two hour drive away, to be precise. Pretty much Edinburgh to Barcelona.)

These photos are old - a year or two ago - from a half finished blog I never posted - and I look at my wild ones in the long-ago, so vibrant and unconstrained on the beach I love so much, and oo and ah over how they've grown and changed, but I look most at the shores of home and wonder when I will return. And I am so grateful that I had that time, I have those memories, to keep me company now, when I am landlocked and so far from home.

Morning

Words are hard to tumble together at the moment. 

The chaos of constrained wild ones and lots of change unravels me. 

There are so many moments of delight and so many moments I'm pulling my hair, sometimes at the same time. 

But here are photos of my solace and my joy from the quiet before my loves awaken.