I just wanted to say…

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Dear dear friend, I have just read yours and Elfie’s blog. Poring over each entry, lingering over the words, and soaking up the imagery, emotion and inspiration within. You guys are truly amazing. I am in awe of your raw authenticity, the poetic lilt of your language and the simple joy of your lives together (yes, even the tragic, dark bits have joy and hope).

I am also envious. Yes, you read that right. I have wanted to do what you are doing for so long. Tracking my life, thoughts, random experiences; expressing myself in words and photos/drawings to whoever might want to listen… I fantasise about doing it. I talk to Gina about what stops me. I draft countless entries, that never get as far as being posted. Most of my life I have thought of myself as a writer, creator. Talented, driven. And yet, I don’t actually do it. I don’t ‘find time’. I don’t ‘have a space’. I ‘forget’. I have ‘other more important/urgent/significant/pressing things to do’.

Now, more than ever, I want to make this happen. But I don’t know how. If ‘even cancer’ and the very real threat of not growing old is not enough of a rocket up my proverbial, what on earth will motivate me to make it happen…?

I know, I know! I hear you tut tutting me and saying ‘don’t be so hard on yourself, you and Rich have so much to get finished to be in a place where you can just be yourselves and live a life in synch with this part of you’. I know there are very real reasons, right now, why I don’t just walk over to my easel and get chalk on my fingers, or sit down at my computer for a few hours and bash out a few ideas/thoughts/hopes (like this morning, when all I do is feel guilty about not getting the washing on!), but how/when is the desire to do this going to be enough to bunt me into gear… (I actually typed ‘but time is running out’, and then veered away from leaving it there – and this is my way of letting you know it was in my head but I wasn’t ready to own it).

I love you and am so grateful for your love and care of me. You are an inspiration.
M xx

Oh God My. How do I respond to your beautiful email? I know my words won’t do it justice and that I will feel very frustrated about that but nevertheless, I will give it a try.

Firstly thank you for being so generous and loving in your response to our posts. To take the time to write down your feelings and reactions and send them is a gift to us darling. It really is.

Secondly, to be so honest and authentic and open-hearted is an amazing way to be. Millions of people will never, ever get to that place. You are brave and courageous to make yourself vulnerable and to trust that we love you and won’t let you fall.

Maybe you have to believe in yourself more My. There will always be other ‘things’ to do, to get done, that can’t wait. So there is a choice. Those ‘things’ will always be there – well, hopefully not always – but stuff like washing clothes and boring stuff like that. And what is the worst thing that will happen if you don’t put those ‘things’ first but rather do them later? Probably nothing too dire. Certainly nothing as dire as cancer. So ??? Believe in you darling. What you have to say, to create, to write – self expression – is far more important than anything else. Yes, even the house. There has to be room for you in all this. In this vital part of you. This expression of you. And I don’t think that you are running out of time. I just think you need to make the decision to be all of you.

Thanks again darling thing. Be a warrior for yourself. All my love xxoo

First and last times

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The best thing about getting so close to ‘occupancy’ is realising the number of first times and last times that we are experiencing…

Over the past few months I have been thinking about first and last times for so many things… In November, we sprayed water around the ‘utility’ room for the last time as the final coat of render went on the walls. Later that month I cleaned up dropped render for the last time in that room. The last time ever!

And it was only a few weeks later that we did the same for the master bedroom and finally my study. All internal rendering completely completed in the main pavilion! Woo-bloody-hoo!

Then, when the stove plumber came back later that month, to fit off the radiators and bleed our hydronic system (for the last time), we lit the combustion stove for the first time. Yes, it’s true the plumber lit it when he installed the flue, just to test there were no leaks, but this time I lit it, just to warm the house (yes, in November!) and have some warmth tick around the radiators… for the first time.

In January, with the floor finally laid, sanded and polished, we wiped down kitchen benches and vacuumed up red sanding dust for the last time. Oh, okay, we probably will be cleaning up sanding dust for months to come…

But the biggest first and last time, would have to be just over a week ago… Massive thank you to Matt (our building inspector) and Lorna (our ‘permit liaison person’ and very dear friend) for their support in us getting here! We achieved occupancy! Okay, we don’t have the actual piece of paper yet, and we’ve still got a way to go to be completely finished, but we got verbal approval to inhabit our main pavilion!

So, last weekend, Richard and I slept in the shedudio for the last time and on the Sunday we moved our bed over to the master bedroom. After celebratory pizza and champagne at P and K’s house, we came home to sleep in our new bedroom for the first time!

It’s just our big old bed in a spanking new, almost empty room, but we are loving it. I must admit it took the first few nights to really settle in and be able to actually sleep and when the rain hit in the middle of the week we almost regretted doing it as we trekked across in the mud to go to bed… but no, I refuse to feel remorseful – this is a huge step forward and the best possible way to make it all start feeling so much more real.

Waking up in that beautiful room (for the first time) has got to be one of the best moments I have ever had.

We’ve had babies!

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This blog comes with an apology right up front, for the poor photography! Many of my photos were taken through the glass which (even though I did clean it!) made my images blurry – that was the only way to get ‘up close’ to the adult wrens. And I will admit, I need more practice without the auto focus too – I’ve managed to get the fern in focus instead of the real subject of the photo. *Sigh* Might do better next year!

Not sure exactly when we became aware of ‘activity’ in the potted hare’s foot fern near the door to our shedudio… a flash of blue and an indignant chirp each time we emerged from our living space.

Then almost at the same moment Richard and I commented that we thought a wren might be building a nest in the fern.

The first week or two it was just that – activity and movement – with no visible ‘nest’. But the male wren continued to get ‘caught out’ coming and going with bits and pieces in his beak. The female was doing the same, but she was not as easy to see – nature is clever like that.

Then in what seemed like just a few days a bundle of fine sticks and grasses appeared on the top of the fern. They didn’t try to hide their nest, they launched it high and proud on the top of the potted plant, in full view of us. We mused on why they would want to house their new family so close to human activity and to our dog! But perhaps they are so clever that they realised he was not a threat (being always behind the fence or on a lead) and that while we were nearby other predators such as the goanna, a snake or a fox would be less likely to come near. Either way, nest they did and home they built.

In just a few days three small white eggs were visible inside the dainty oval nest. Mrs wren is back and forth – darting off into the trees every time we open the door, then returning when we are out of sight. She must be exhausted.

And Mr wren is dancing and prancing at us, flashing his wings and hopping away and back. ‘Look at me, look at me, come away, follow me’ as he tries to draw us away from his family.

A couple of weeks later and we can see tiny pink ‘worms’ – three tiny hatchlings. Then the real activity begins. Both mother and father wren coming and going with all manner of insects and bugs to feed their hungry brood.

Even as we peer into the nest, our movement nearby is enough for the babies to spring open their beaks in anticipation.

They grow unbelievably fast. It is only a matter of days and the pink worms have transformed into tiny buddhas – feathers forming, beaks more distinct, eyes opening.

It seems only another day or two and our babies are out and trying to fly, watched closely by  mama and papa and so well camouflaged in my lemon myrtle pot plant that I have had to put a red circle around two of them and cannot see the third at all…

One thing I could not capture on the camera was the crazy injured bird dance that Mrs wren performed while I was poking around her young ones with the camera! Initially I really thought she was injured as she danced across in front of me with one wing dragging on the ground, but as soon as I looked away she was up and agile again, flitting after the babies without any problems at all. Incredibly clever!

Read more about our wildlife.

Eating my elephant

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We’ve all heard it before, but it truly is amazing what a bit of forced ‘down time’ can achieve. I have been off work or on reduced hours since late January – initially as a planned break, but then as a forced reduced commitment through illness.

Having to be less invested in my employment has been a revelation for me. Hard fought change, and I wouldn’t recommend my path to anyone, but if you are looking for upsides, reducing stress is surely a big one.

I have been able to put in a bit of time on updates to this site (still not fully up-to-date, but getting there – latest progress reports under Building progress), I’ve revisited my drawing skills and started developing a cartoon, I’ve weeded, pruned and planted in my tiny garden, I’ve helped Richard when I can on creeping our build forward, and I’ve begun more regular mindfulness practice (yeah, me, mindfulness!).

The coin toss was my cancer diagnosis in February, but the real kick-off was probably the 10 days forced rest in hospital and the weeks of (bored, bored, bored) recovery that followed at home.

So, here I am, finally nearing the end of my treatments and looking forward to having it all behind me. I know, even when I return to full time work, and life settles back into my ‘new normal’, that I will not be the same person I was when 2017 began. And that’s not a bad thing.

I have had no choice but to eat my elephant one mouthful at a time (learning that sometimes you just need to go with the flow), but I will be eternally grateful for Richard, my family, my devoted friends and work colleagues, and my medical team for not having to eat it on my own (learning that the only thing that is actually important in this life is the love you give and the love you receive).

Read more about my current circumstances on Personal journey

Legacy versus practicality

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Richard has fiercely hung on to creating my kitchen from scratch… we discuss (vigorously? passionately?) the pros and cons of a flat pack kitchen. My nephew buys and installs, in just a few days, a brand new kitchen in his existing house. I am swayed – wooed by the promise of a short time frame. Perhaps also enticed by being able to use the Ikea software to design, ‘construct’, and select the whole kitchen in a few hours. I would be able to ‘see’ it, play around with combinations of cabinet and drawer sizes, try various drawer front colours, materials, styles…

My beloved husband holds fast and starts designing my kitchen on his antiquated drafting software. I begin to collect images of kitchen ideas I like.

Part of me wishes I had kept a journal of the process. The joys, the tears, the disparate views and the final coming together. Our creative process. Two talented, passionate people each trying to make their mark on what will essentially be the heart of our home. A shared project, the maker and the ‘client’, working towards a unified vision. But I suspect such a record would also include tears, tantrums, a few dummy spits, and some hands flung into the air in frustration. I might have said ‘but it’s MY kitchen’ a few times. I could perhaps be referred to by some (a little unkindly I think) as a typical ‘client from hell’. And my mostly patient husband might have lost it once or twice…

But really, what does all that matter, when finally, we arrive. The format and layout of the cabinets is agreed. The overall design is finalised. The drawer and cupboard front materials and style are determined. The benches are, well…

Richard agrees to outsource the solid timber benches (reclaimed forest reds) as ‘blanks’ that he can cut to size, join and install and we can sand and oil ourselves, thus still putting our ‘stamp’ on this component – and SAVING some time. We decide to bleach the Tassie oak face frames, drawer fronts and cupboard doors to achieve the ‘whitewashed’ look I have my heart set on (but cannot achieve with conventional whitewash paints), again putting our creative stamp on the kitchen – but ADDING more time.

What we are creating together will take AGES. Overall we have added more processes than we have saved; aspects the average person would not even think of including in what should be a straight forward kitchen construction. But what we are creating together will be a standout kitchen. Our compromise, finally agreeable to both, is going to be an outstanding and extraordinary success.

And this, in all its pain and glory, is Richard’s legacy. We cannot achieve that depth of creativity, craftsmanship, fine detail and quality (and all its ‘oohs and aahs’) if all we focus on is practicality.

So, I give in to craftsmanship (legacy) for the kitchen and vow to work harder at letting it go on the things that don’t matter quite so much.