March 10 - Loud

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I took a short cut with this photo.

It's my wedding anniversary today and I'm away at the beach with my Beloved, celebrating our 22 years together.

He wrote the word LOUD in the sand for me. He does things like that. When I'm stuck and need help, I know he'll come up with something. When I think there's no solution, he finds one and when I'm not brave enough, he tells me there's nothing to be afraid of.

I guess in many ways, he is the LOUD in my world. He turned up the music the day we married, and it's been pealing every day since.

Here's my favourite song. He sang it while we walked along the foreshore at sunset this evening. Loud enough for all to hear and see.

And even though it won't be there by morning, I'm a lucky girl. I've come to expect something equally loud will ring again tomorrow.

March 9 - Red

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I once nearly burned our house down. It's a true story.

After telling my kids not to play with candles when they're lit, I did that very thing, and ran my finger through the flame of a candle as it burned beside me on my desk.

Oh, I thought I was so clever to enjoy a little fire while I wrote. Just like my heroine would have as she wrote in her journal. And I just couldn't help myself.

In a moment of weakness, I made the flame dance with the quick passing of my finger and I don't to this day know how I managed it, but ended up with a lit candle, still burning on the carpet at my feet. In a pool of molten wax. Not the interruption I needed.

I learned my lesson that day. I learned how to remove wax from wool, how to scrape it off the edge of a wooden desk, and how to place any future candles on the book shelf, way beyond my reach.

And now you know why I wear a writing shawl. It's a safer way of disappearing into the 1870s than going up in smoke.

March 8 - Window

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I made two discoveries this morning as I lay across our staircase to take today's photo. 

1. I have a new found respect for photographers.

I've seen them contort indelicately to capture the best angle for their shots, but now I have a new appreciation for the twisting of bodies in the name of art. And glad I am, as a writer, I can sit at the computer with my shawl and peppermint tea and create scenes which don't require the scraping of my spine along hard wooden steps. 

2. I haven't watched a cloud pass me by in ages. 

I must run up and down our stairs countless times each day, and while my eye might catch on the goings-on at ground level, I hardly ever stop to look up through this window. See those clouds in my picture? They were gone after I took this shot. In two seconds the view changed and I sat there for a long while, looking at the moving sky as if it were new to me. 

I wondered how many moments of splendour I've missed in my rush to get to where I think I should be. How many times God has reached for me when I've been busy doing my own thing, and how many others share the same regrets I do. 

It's been 8 days of photo taking so far. And while I've used this challenge to kick-start my daily blog posts as well as play the Marchphotoaday game, I've gleaned a little more than writing and photography.

I've slowed down and looked at my world in a new way. Considered what surrounds me, and how it came to be there. 

And I'm seeing afresh how God fits into and above everything I gather for my nest. He sent the clouds to fashion the skies. He drapes me with feathers and protects my writing dream. He's the keeper of days and clocks only count what He allows. He gives me reason to smile, a story to tell, sets me in the neighbourhood where I live and provides my daily bread. And figs. And cheese. 

And at every turn, gives me reason to look up. 

My help comes from the Lord. The maker of heaven and earth. 

Psalm 121:2

March 7 - Something you wore

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I know what you're thinking. This could be a curtain or granny's lap blanket. Well, I promise it's not. It's a cream shawl, with pretty detail and long fringe. And I wear it when I write.

It sits on the back of my chair, and now that Autumn mornings sneak up on us with their welcome chill, I'm glad to wrap it round my shoulders.

When my fingers get stuck in its lacy holes, or it slips off my shoulders, I straighten it again and imagine I'm not the only one wearing 19th century garb. I let the wool scratch against my neck or twist the edges of the fringe until they're frayed, and imagine how my heroine might feel with something similar draped over her. How she might use it to cover herself late at night when she's afraid. How she might tangle her fingers in the loops of wool as she wrestles with the issues of love and life.

Gathered alongside other pieces for an 1850s costume, I wore this thrift shop find on a school camp to the gold-fields in Sovereign Hill when my Tom was in year 4. It remained buried in the dress up box for years until it made the significant leap from costume to one of my favourite pieces of clothing. (Inside the house only!)

Now, I wouldn't be without it. It adds to the atmosphere of my world alongside tea pots, a fountain pen and old photographs. All kept close to inspire and evoke some of what my stories share. The fixtures of my writing room, where threads of romance knit together and drape my world in the richness of happily ever afters.

March 6 - 5pm

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If there were ever a perfect clock for the wall of a romance writer, this would have to be a firm contender.  Taken from the illustrations of Cicely Mary Barker, it caught my eye many years ago and quickly found its way home with me. Could I really leave a clock behind when it whispered, 'storybook?'

A clock and book cover all in one. Clever idea, that. In this age of custom made gifts and mass produced knickknacks I wonder if any of my writer friends consider making their book covers more than just that. A clock or a calendar to glance at all year? The front cover of a notebook perhaps or a set of mugs? Definitely a screen saver, right?

I've seen writers' walls with their first edition dust covers, framed and hung in rows. Entire franchises hum with book spun merchandise from t-shirts to bedspreads, and if your book's for children, the ubiquitous cartoon lunchbox. 

I have dreams for my book cover. I know the model well. She's my favourite green-eyed honey-girl and will look just like a heroine should, when she frocks up in costume. And perhaps we too can think of special ways to mark the occasion when the cover finally arrives. 

For now, I polish the inside. And I try not to watch the clock too much, as I scribble away. 

March 5 - Smile

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For 12 months our family lived in Thailand, the Land of Smiles. We arrived a party of 4, plus one in the belly, and 5 months later I gave birth to our youngest son.

He inherited this knitted toy, a gift from his older brother, who in turn had received it from his older sister. Always known as Baby, this little guy has never stopped smiling at us. From the day he entered our family and snuggled into Tom's glass crib in the hospital, he's been cherished as one of the few toys destined to stick around, when many others found new homes.

Perhaps that simple two stitch smile, neither overblown nor shy, is the reason we could never part with him. And who could blame us. A smile is the language every baby understands. The curve that sets all things straight. 

March 4 - Bedside

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There she stands. With her back against my romance novels, the shipping records of a 19th century clipper, and a collection of old colonial era letters, you will find a brass bell. Or should that be brass belle?

I bought this serene beauty at Sovereign Hill in Ballarat, a few short weeks before my tonsils were removed in 2004. I figured with smaller children, I would need a way to call them if I needed my jelly and ice-cream. And while my family came to regret the incessant ring of my crinolined purchase, I loved, and still do love, ringing that bell when I'm having a doona day. 

There's no denying we've embraced the latest technology since 2004, and all 5 of us at Crabapple House now use mobile phones, even to send free texts from one bedroom to the next. But I have fun interrupting modern living on occasion, and call my people the old fashioned way. 

Don't be fooled by her demure stature. While she may be small-waisted and fit in my palm, this upstairs bell can pierce the air of a downstairs room quicker than any iphone. 

True, my dear ones may not know what I want. Just, that I need them. And sometimes, that's enough. The rest we can say face to face. 

March 3 - Your Neighbourhood

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It's raining today. All day. So forgive me if I don't venture too far into my neighbourhood for today's photo, of what my family calls 'the stairs at the end of our road.'

This sneaky shortcut takes the happy wanderer through to the local primary school and up to the bus stop on the main road.

Looks pretty doesn't it? All wet and shinny on a quiet Saturday morning.

Wrong!

Don't be tricked. These steps are evil. Especially if your Beloved thinks they're perfect for running up, and down. (There's a further set of steps, hidden from view, designed to make legs burn.)

And all that lush, green groundcover?

Disaster... for the hens at Crabapple House. Rumour has it, a den of foxes uses this area as home-base... and my poor chickens' pen as their larder!  (Ok, this happened only once, but I'm still crying for those lost chooks.)

So there you have it, My Neighbourhood on a wet Saturday morning. When runners push their unlaced shoes back into the cupboard, and foxes and chickens keep their noses dry another day.

March 2 - Fruit

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In my own mind I like to call our home Crabapple House. 

Don't laugh. It doesn't yet sport a sign or anything elaborate, but one day we will name it formally and hang a shingle some place where others can see and mock, I mean join in the fun with us. We are, after all, surrounded by 7 gorgeous crabapple trees.

But their glory is long gone by the time we reach early autumn. Now is when our two fig trees shine. Tucked at the back, against the garden shed, they wait until all the other trees have wowed us, and just when we think the summer bounty is over, they offer their deliciousness. 

So finding today's photo challenge was as easy as picking it right off the branch. The perfect afternoon tea, paired with a good hunk of goat's cheese - I couldn't ask for more. Actually, I have been known to ask for a goat.


Imagine, being able to make my own, easy to digest cheese. But the answer was a resounding 'No.' Still, I'm happy to plate up my own fresh figs. Perhaps the goats will come in some retirement small farm dream of mine....


March 2, your rewards are sweet indeed!


 Are you a fan of the fig?  What favourite fruit do like to find on your plate?

A Mission for March - Photoaday

My eye is always drawn to the remnants of life from another era. Anything old, anything not plastic. Nineteenth century is always a winner. So when I read about the March challenge by FatMumSlim to take a photo a day from her prescribed list, I wondered if I could capture something around me to fit in with my love of all things yesteryear.

Most things on her list marry well with my love of everything old. Some might be a challenge, like the sunglasses, and I'm going to have to think hard about day 29, but I'm looking forward to collecting 31 photos I hope will reflect the images which inspire my writing, and feed my love of Victorian life in Colonial Australia.

So, in an effort to share the world as I see it, here's my first photo. 

 March 1 - UP

The view from the bottom of our staircase. Wood, plaster, a brass hinge and glass. So far, so good.

For more photos, see Instagram #marchphotoaday.