Naughty dogs, moths and gin & tonics, a unique Boxing Day for me, but hopefully it will become a tradition.
Naughty dogs, moths and gin & tonics, a unique Boxing Day for me, but hopefully it will become a tradition.
Stormy weather took out the power lines so Christmas morning began with a crackling fire and smokey toasted croissants. Traditions of plastic trees, turkey and shouting matches are made to be broken: family, friends and fishing are much nicer. Chocolate birthday cake is pretty delightful as well.
The tent glowed cruelly at 6am and a crow barked a laugh, a most inconsiderate neighbour. More slug than butterfly I wriggled out of my cocoon, with koala eyes and a bed head to match, my appearance proudly declared me not a morning person. The field had been deserted the night before, a goat, rope and picket gaily dragging behind, starred, chewing, just daring me to tell the interns she was free. Tilda Swinton in animal form, I find goats beautiful and alien, their rectangular pupiled eyes are a little bit intimidating.
Brought up on a delicious diet of Beatrix Potter and Brambly Hedge, picking raspberries for breakfast was almost too charming to bear and at that moment I could have shut up shop and left the city for good. The rest of the group gone, breakfast at Melliodora was delightful domestic, David pulling apart Su’s mothers electric hand mixer that had finally given up, WOOFERs and interns buzzing about, making herb teas…it all just seemed so lovely and so do-able. If my future family could live like this it would be perfection.
After that how could we go back to the city so soon? Clinging to the weekend by our nails, half way home, we camped our last night in the Lerderderg State Park. Gorgeous bushland, gurgling river, shadows, crackling fire and complete isolation. As the night settled in we quietly pined for the human company we had left behind and were ready to return home.
…and the wind blew in, sand turned savage began biting our legs. What seemed like an easy wade across the river mouth before became treacherous as I began to sink, the sickly quick sand like slurry giving way beneath me to gobble up legs to the knee. I pulled myself free as the clouds rolled in and we ran for the cover, although I think some were secretly running towards lunch as our hooks remained empty. But lovely remote spots are wild like that, and that is their charm.