The sea and me…
Took myself off kayaking for an hour and a half this afternoon. Just me and the empty sea, a few pelicans, some cormorants, gulls and the very occasional whiffle of wind.
Took myself off kayaking for an hour and a half this afternoon. Just me and the empty sea, a few pelicans, some cormorants, gulls and the very occasional whiffle of wind.
Walking along the beach on a winter’s day is almost as perfect as being on the same beach in summer.
This weekend we left House and headed inland through all the back roads to a little village we happen to like quite a lot.
We passed a number of stone cottages like this.
Ah, my husband and I are getting old.
What do you mean, you ask?
We trotted off to Dark Mofo tonight…
that winterfest designed to celebrate the longest nights of winter in Tasmania.
A winter weekend of pure escapism. Yesterday, two beaches 40 kms apart and no camera.
Today, two beaches 10kms apart and a camera but remembering to take pics this morning and not this afternoon. By the time these 3 days are done, we will have walked about 30 kms which mightn’t sound much really. But yesterday morning, I had to walk up and down the cliff path carrying Old Dog who couldn’t manage it. Yesterday afternoon, I had a brain conniption and persisted in climbing huge sandbanks to run down the other side.
As with most of my fellow writers, I met Ginger Myrick online at a Facebook place called English Historical Fiction Authors. Ginger has a fresh attitude to life and a great sense of humour and it’s a pleasure to host her today. Be sure and have a look at her new book – it’s a ‘run, don’t walk’ purchase!
When Prue so generously offered to host me on her website, I asked her what sort of post she had in mind. She encouraged me to write about any “unique stories to tell about the journey to write this book – things that happened during the research, life interfering, funny stories, something that shows Ginger Myrick the writer has a really relaxed side …” As far as my relaxed side, I’m not so sure it exists, but on the subject of life having the capacity to interfere with my writing, that proverbial cup runneth over.
Took a day off this week from the book and the farm to have a picnic in the Derwent Valley which we had heard always looks beautiful in the autumn. But we’d never managed to get there before leaf fall. I love amber and topaz, garnet and shiraz, pinot noir and chartreuse. (Colours I mean, not alcohol!) And was determined we’d catch the colour before it dropped…
I came back to House from three days in the Big Smoke last week to find my sunflowers had burst into bloom and it made me feel so happy that I broke into a huge smile as I opened the bedroom curtains. I distinctly remember this bold yellow disk grinning at me so that I just had to whisper ‘Wow.’
We all began kayaking about 11 years ago, and in that time have paddled together in many different places up and down our east coast. But over the years we have decreased in number through age and injury and we’re now trying to have one BIG kayak per summer, to add to the little ones we try to have once or twice a week. I’ve not been for many this year because of Mum’s accident and because of windy weather but I wouldn’t miss the BIG one for the world. We augmented our shrinking numbers with two extra ladies this year. A lovely group…