17/52

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2012."

Che: tick, tick, tick, tick. Always thinking. Here I'm telling him why that was his last swimming lesson (we're having a break over the cooler months - the pool just gets too germy)

Poet: happy-sad, happy-sad - so it goes when you're red-cheeked and teething.

52

the hardest job in the world

Recognition is a wonderful thing. Gratitude is even better.

go gently

A few days ago a southerly blew in and with it came true autumn. All of a sudden we're wearing woollens, taking hot water bottles to bed and preparing soups and stocks for the weeks ahead. 

Thank you so much for the nurturing comments on path. I've been thinking a lot about this time of year, the way our bodies need to work harder to stay warm and healthy. It's no wonder we're all feeling the lull, it's a seasonal shift and clearly we're all adjusting. 

I've spent a lot of time away from the internet this week and it's been really nice. It's a busy world, this online place, and I get so overwhelmed by the plethora of, well, stuff. I liken it to walking through the streets of the city; the small boutiques and urban quirks are inspiring but the fast pace and vivid lights tire me in the end. I so easily get swept up in the crowd and it's difficult to pull away. 

When I do step back the break is genuinely refreshing. The afternoons are spent outdoors, soaking up that clear, white autumn light. Dinner is on the stove by 4o'clock and babies are bathed by 5.30. Bedtime comes earlier; a cup of camomile by my side.  I stop wanting and start appreciating. The washing gets folded too.

Like I have said to so many of my friends lately: go gently. 

apple town

This film so accurately captures the light and ambiance of that morning in Michelle's kitchen. I love its lyrical quality; its sense of nostalgia. 

I love that Daniel can tell a beautiful story with his camera.

16/52

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2012."

Che: With practice, comes confidence. "I want to ride my bike every day, always."

Poet: Why am I not surprised that her favourite room in the house is the one room where she isn't supposed to be. I gasped in horror during the week as I heard, for the first time: "Mum, Poet's in my room! Get out of my room Poe!" Oh dear, it's begun.

52

path

I feel like I've wandered from my path a little. Perhaps it's the post-holiday slump that hasn't quite lifted or the weeks tied to the keyboard in an effort to make deadline. I think it might be something to do with the change of season; the onset of cool, dark mornings where children wake early and beg for porridge before my eyes have fully opened. 

Poet is nine months tomorrow. She's been here for as long as I grew her. And just like when Che was the same age, my body is wanting a little more care. I think it must be the nine month lull; where baby reaches a new level of awareness and muma falls into the realm of tired - early nights are a necessity and extra herbal tonics a must. 

There's a plethora of things that I want to be doing and I haven't quite got to them yet. My herb garden needs resurrecting and I want to spend more time flicking through paper pages. I need to cut down on sugar and explore (and attempt) the art of self-discipline. I can't wait to plan autumn-inspired meals and watch another episode of this - Rachel Khoo, I think I love you (and your lipstick!)

But enough of my petty woes. Sheesh, what a bore!

This past week I answered some questions about my life (and the children's names). Head over to Naomi's and Katrina's to read a little more...

15/52

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2012."

Che: "This is the best dressing gown I have ever had in my life." It's the only dressing gown he's ever had in his life.

Poet: Just shy of nine-months-old and climbing the couch. She thinks it's hilarious. 

52

sakura bloom sling dairies - love

In utero she was comforted by the rhythm of my heart. As a newborn I held her to my chest, inhaling her exhalation as she curled in. Now, almost nine-months-old, I carry her close as we wander; so she can feel safe in this world. 

I wear Poet in the simple silk sling in amber

the sling diaries - a sakura bloom photo project

The art of babywearing is being documented by thriteen different families. To keep up-to-date with all the posts simply 'like' The Sling Diaries

Thanks so much Tim; for capturing the love.

poet's room: bits & pieces

It's all coming together and it's been so much fun. Starting with a blank canvas was a little overwhelming so I used Poet's quilt as a guide. I also reminded myself that just because the room was empty that didn't mean I had to fill it with things. It's almost finished...almost.

I've collected bits and pieces for their simplicity and beauty and together they have imbued the space with a sense of whimsy and calm. Hand-stitched vintage blue shoes, a bird painting by em, a bear of few words and the cute (and cheap!) rabbit night light make a sweet bedside vignette. The pillowcases are made from vintage linen, as is the bunting, both by hazyjane. Fliss sent Luna as a gift and those vintage books (Little Women, PollyAnna, Anne of Green Gables) look right at home on a thrifted bookshelf that I found years ago for a rather nice $6. 

There is a little space next to the window, just above the bed head, that needed an artwork of some sort. I decided to frame my favourite photo from our first session with Tim. It represents such a beautiful time in our lives - full of expectation and love as we awaited Poet's arrival. No doubt there will be many nights that I talk to her about my belly, her birth, and the way she changed our lives, forever.  And then she'll fall asleep under a ceiling decorated with heart garlands and a stars and moon mobile.

Photos by Tim.

home life

I'm on the tail end of the housekeeping. Thank goodness! Che moved into the office, Poet's things are in Che's old room (she still sleeps in our bed) and the office moved to the middle of the house. 

Musical rooms.

We recently moved the dining table into a corner of the lounge-room to make space for a new home-made trestle table and two computers. It makes sense to have our 'work space' in the middle of the play/cook/eat/ space - I can write, Daniel can edit and we can still be amongst it all. When quiet and calm is necessary Daniel takes the kids downstairs to read or nap and I try to not get distracted by the view (there's a small forest in our backyard). 

I've also decluttered. I love a good declutter. As a result we have less stuff and more clean space. I decorated Che's room with colour and quirk - a string of pom poms, vintage striped bed linen, raindrops and illustrated art prints. He has a desk built-in to the wardrobe so he can draw and paint there uninterrupted (I still have to photograph it - soon, I promise).

Poet's room is still a work-in-progress but slowly and surely it's all coming together (more on that tomorrow).

For now, as glorious autumn days creep in, we're loving being at home and playing in the garden. It's nice to see the (almost) completion of a project. Until of course I get re-inspired and it all changes again. Beautiful ephemera. 

Photos by Tim, film by Daniel

14/52

"A portrait of my children, once a week, every week, in 2012."

Honest captures that so aptly describe my children this week. All credit goes to Tim; who never fails to photograph life in all its wonder. 

Che: Stick + string = bow. Adventure boy.
Poet: Pulling herself up to standing; pursed lips, intent gaze. And a bunny on her jumpsuit - for Easter.

On the topic of Easter, Che declared me the greatest mum in the world this morning. Apparently placing a tray of white paint at the door was genius. That bunny! - he left footprints all over the house! Daniel on the other hand thought I was completely mad. "We live in a rental and you're painting the floorboards?!"

As for the sugar loot  -  half a chocolate bunny ear was enough to cause a meltdown of epic proportions earlier today. I watched on in horror as Che went from happy to sad to irritable to angry in a matter of minutes. Tears followed and then we decided that a carrot and a glass of water was probably best (bunny food). I'm all for sweet treats in moderation but watching Che's reaction was proof that sugar can be cruel. 

I hope you're enjoying a lovely Easter - preferably without the emotional rollercoaster.

52

from the apple isle: the maker

Tea-stained autumn leaves have crept into the maker and lie huddled together in corners. The tracks from the old jam factory were uncovered during renovations - plum stones still visible in the earth. A soy candle burns on the front desk - the scent of fresh linen wafting around paper and trinkets.

Too much misspent time in antique stores prompted Leonie Struthers to open the maker two years ago. The aesthetic is inspired by her clothing range - sculptural pieces created from natural fibres - wool, linen, cotton. 

Simplicity reigns supreme here, a neutral colour palette inspires a sense of calm and quiet. Vintage finds sit happily next to hand-crafted bird's nests. Miniature porcelain jugs are lined up on the windowsill. The cash register is a real one, an old one, a ca-ching one.

the maker is small, beautiful and inviting; a showcase of contemporary Tasmanian art. Indeed, the shop is brimming with the handiwork of local craftsmen and women. Leonie refers to them as "the makers." 

If you visit Hobart, you must pop in. You will love it, I promise.  

Photos by Luisa