Can you call yourself a writer when you haven’t written for four months? I swear I think of blog posts every morning I do, I really, really do. I wake up at 6am, make my coffee, wander out to my porch and watch the sun rise. This has been my daily ritual since we moved to the country. My porch has the perfect position for watching the sun creeping up over the horizon as is shines a gorgeous glow of pink in the sky. But what to write, hey? When there are so many things to say but opening the blog and going to the back end to start a “new” post has felt hard. And when things feel hard these days, I don’t do them. Simple. I’ve been on Facey , and on Insty giving snippets of my days and experiences. Popping a picture up with limited words feels less vulnerable than letting it all bare here. Life is good though. It’s been six months since we moved from the big smoke. I don’t miss it at all. The other week, we trundled down to Adelaide for a day in day out type of visit; we spent ...
TRYING TO FIND THE BLISS IN THE MAYHEM OF EVERYDAY