musk (1 of 2)

glorious decay, by various brennemans.

We were away this weekend.

We hadn't been away, even for a night, since Circe was born. She's eighteen months old, I think we really needed to get outdoors. And we especially needed to have Circe see the wide open spaces, smell the crisp country air, and to sleep somewhere other than her own cot.

We were invited out to Musk,a small town just outside Daylesford, by our neighbour. We'd been there before a couple of times(each time with the new-season's spanking baby in tow) when there had been a house to stay in.

Because now there wasn't. The neighbours had shifted 50 meters, from a proper two-bedroom-brick building to a slightly-converted shed. Them calling it "the shed" made me not sure how feel about sleeping there, until the offer of a caravan soothed me. But I was ready for the open fire cooking, the raspberry picking, even ready for the composting toilet.

I was not ready for just how cold it was. Or how wet. It rained from our arrival well into the small hours of Sunday.

The rain didn't deter my neighbour from his bonfire. We had noticed the glow well before we pulled up to the property on Saturday. The weather was turning, the afternoon was grey and grim, the fire amazingly orange and huge against the sudden dark of 2:30 pm. Huge, huge and orange, it filled the whole of my view, snapping in the wind.

I pulled half into the drive but stopped and stared, in fear, actually.

Phoenix is our seven year old, and he had travelled ahead of us that morning in our neighbour's car, and has been up to Musk several times without us. He loves it, loves coming back filthy, and my husband tries to avoid washing him, to slip him into bed smelling of smoke so that he can hold on to the feeling.

As I sat open mouthed, feeling the heat prickling my skin from ten meters away, I said to Aaron "Phoenix is never coming here alone again." Me being such a chicken is part of why I love him going up there without us.

Once I'd gotten the courage up to drive the rest of the way in, we were greeted by his bright red cheeks and messy blond locks. The fire makes him a little wild, a little rougher around the edges, I love to see that in him. But it scares me.

Part two, Being there, to come

one autumn day

ic I, originally uploaded by various brennemans.

For the moment I am enjoying the close of a beautiful Autumn day, the air from my open window is still and fresh. Earlier I was outside and heard the low whooshing sound of the fruit bats making haste as they heard the sliding of the back door. The figs are late this year.

I sat quietly out there a while listening to the rustle of my corn in the nights breeze, almost eerie. Today I wondered about the day, how we fill it, how it will never be this same day again. As I sat by this corn I remembered the afternoon Eliza and I planted it, her finger pushing the seed into the ground. As I let her be I wondered whether it would actually grow. When she stands by it now they quadruple her size. Days like those I push the moment into my mind, knowing that in a few months I will think back to this day as the passages of time take little corners in my mind.

My husband sits out there at night and listens, for him the sound is calming soothing, the memories of the Missouri corn fields still fresh in his mind. My heart longs to see the corn fields in Missouri, I have only seen the stalks cut to the ground, acres and acres as far as you can see. I wish I could plant up my entire backyard to see what it would feel like, a corn maze.

I am thankful for the moments I can capture with a click of my camera. There isn't a day that goes by where I don't see something beautiful, whether it be a big red apple in tiny hands or raggedy Ann slumped over my tiniest shoulders, the golden light of morning highlighting her slightly auburn hair.

Some things though I will just have to remember, like the angelic sounds of my 7 year old boy singing "Somewhere over the rainbow," there is almost nothing sweeter. He is in choir at school and just sings all day long, it is truly beautiful. Instantly though I am feeling dissatisfied at myself for not getting round to booking drumming lessons for him, as his drums sit gathering dust in the lounge rooom. Now I wonder do I book some singing lessons also or will I never get around to that either?

In my house right now I am listening to my two eldest children playing slamwich with a sleep over friend, their laughter coming in from the other room warms my heart. Earlier they rushed in from outside to tell me that the ice cream truck was parked over by the park. As anybody can remember this is so exciting when you are 3 or 7 or 10. How could I say no, I was once just like them, my brother and I always begged mum for money when we heard that sound. I love that some things are still the same.

I am missing my little three year old she is over the road having had an evening fire with toasted marshmallows and is now staying for a sleepover. Although I will miss her little shape in her bed tonight I know that she is safe and snug alongside her best friend. 

Despite my seven year old crooning that nothing happened today I am feeling like It is Ok to have days like these, he is happy right now cuddled up to his Dad in the cocoon of his Bunk bed, his belly filled with home made pizza and chocolate ice cream, his dreams dizzy with tyre swinging his body still from sleep. The days are beautiful even in our sleep.