Hello friends,

Oh what a glorious blustery day! I hope you all had a great week and have just poured a fresh cup of tea, ready to settle in for a wee chat. My heart goes out to those who are in lockdown at the moment. I hope this post provides a few moments pleasant diversion for you. 

I have a confession to make. You know how I had a bit of a whinge last week about camping down the coast when I’ve been trying sooo hard to get my kids out west. Well, its no surprise that we didn’t make it to Broken Hill. That would have been a miracle indeed. So, I was a big girl and graciously accepted that we would only chug an hour down the road instead. Now of course as there are more lockdowns happening, I am just so grateful that we could get that far.

To be honest I wasn’t expecting much. Beaches all look the same to me and I don’t find the surrounding scrub particularly stimulating. But boy was I in for a shock! This secluded little beach was absolutely stunning! WOW! the headland was incredible, the sunsets nothing short of glorious and the walks were straight out of a picture book. Yes, I will admit it. In all humility I hereby acknowledge that beach holidays can be pleasant, even for a country girl. (Ok ok, I realise you all already knew that!!)

The best part by far was that this was our inaugural trip with a vintage caravan purchased to get our family out and about creating memories. Some of you may know that we have been doing up my darling Dorothy, a 1961 Bondwood that is seriously the cutest thing you have ever seen (more on her another time). But this van is the family van, complete with bunks for two of the kiddos and the coolest turquoise vinyl seating and retro table top.

Just to back track a little, camping is something our family hasn’t ever done much of. About twenty years ago we tried it with a gaggle of kiddies, toddlers and babies and it was hideous. Apart from having zero appropriate camping gear, thinking it would be fun to squeeze into an overcrowded caravan park full of relaxed campers who actually knew what they were doing, we cleverly managed to coincide it with an above average heat wave in the peak of Summer. We call that particular trip the ‘horror holiday from hell’ and if it wasn’t for our dear friend’s rescue, hosting us in their tiny home with fans, cool drinks and movie afternoons, we would quite possibly be permanently traumatised and still in therapy.

Camping was always simply just too hard. Add eight children into the mix and there was no way we could pull it off and live to talk about it. So, now that half our family are adults and there are no more nappies, I figured it was time to try the holiday thing again. I also realised that the only way I could do it was to do it properly, and that means I need a room. A space. A proper bed, sink, cupboards and bug proof walls. But mainly, I need to decorate it and put my personality into it. Any creative will understand the drive to express! 

 We haven’t chosen a name for our 1973 Viscount yet, but I’m thinking Maggie, or Elsie, after one of our grandmothers. I’ll keep you posted. 

And oh glory be! I underestimated just how much I would  adore having this sweet little personal expression to live in for a few days!! I loved every minute. It was nothing short of delightful for this mama bear. The kids, not so much. 

Enter ‘The Cranks’.

On the first night as we sat cosily around our little vintage camp table and chairs literally metres from the shore line, I pleasantly asked the sweet treasures to tell us all one thing they enjoyed about our day. My heart was full from the many refreshments that being in a new environment (and an adorable vintage caravan) bring, and expectations were high.

“Huh, nothing” was the first disgruntled response. Incredulous!! But when the second dear teenager responded the same way I couldn’t believe it. You’ve got to be kidding me! They had been swimming, surfing, lazing in the sun, walking, eating, exploring, scootering….how can they say nothing?! Two of the four sweeties wanted to go home the next day, and were horrified to discover that the plan was to stay three more nights.

Thats when the cranks set in.

I won’t bore you with the dialogue, but any mother of teenagers will be familiar with it I’m sure. As I watched my hopes of Broken Hill slip further and further into the dusty red sunset, I struggled to comprehend such vehement, self imposed blindness to the beauty and richness of experience right in front of their eyes. Such ingratitude! 

One observation I have made with children who grow up on the coast, is that they can become spoilt and unaware of the privilege it is to live in such a beautiful part of our country. Growing up many hours from the beach, it was always such a huge deal for us to go to the coast for a holiday. But when you live fifteen minutes from some of the world’s most beautiful beaches, I guess it’s easy to take it all for granted. Combine that with hormonal immaturity, then I guess I can see why I got that response. Well actually, no I still can’t, but in the words of an eloquent fifteen year old…whatever.

Long story short, for a few different reasons, we ended up taking the cranks home early and once they were out of the way the rest of us had a wonderful holiday together.

(disclaimer: there were other adults at home to supervise the teenagers so they were not left to their own devices, and yes, I still like my children.)

The whole time I was away, I was daydreaming about another cake road trip. With keen eyes and a renewed awakening for the beauty right in front of me, I saw potential in the scrub land and promise in the tidal puddles. I was indeed humbled by our little sojourn to the beach and want to explore the landscape that is around me once again with a rustic table and cake! 

Looking over these photos I see so much creativity in the details. A neglected wall with peeling paint, a forgotten and overgrown railway or a worn pathway through the dry grass, so much beauty in the ordinary that can captivate us if we know how to look at it. The same cake photographed in different settings, from different angles, all telling their own unique story. Somehow, I feel something new and exciting has been birthed inside my heart and imagination and all I can think of is how much I want to run and explore and do it all again!

See you next week. 

Lots of love,

Anna xx

Hello Lovelies! Thanks for visiting today. I am so happy to be here. This is a post I have been quite excited about sharing.  If you have been hanging out with me over on Instagram you would have heard me talk of a recent road trip I went on with one of my cakes. Yes, that’s cake, not kids! Sounds a bit crazy I know, but it was something I have wanted to do for years.  

Even though I have now lived on the coast for more than half of my life, I still consider myself a country girl at heart. Growing up in a large country town, I feel more at home surrounded by wild grass and cockatoos than the big ocean blue. I know I’ve just lost half of you right there, and I must sound like an ungrateful twat, but everybody knows that you can take the girl out of the country, but not the country out of the girl. 

Over the years on the rare times we have driven over the mountains, my imagination has always come alive and I am spellbound by the beauty of the wide brown land. I was talking to a friend’s husband recently about my futile attempts to get my family out to Broken Hill for an Aussie road trip out west, which is another one of my long held dreams. No matter how much I try to share my enthusiasm for the beauty of the vast open plains, they refuse to see it as anything other than torture. SO narrow minded! Humpf!! It completely drives me crazy! Anyway, as I was sharing my lament, he said something very profound which has really stuck with me. “Well Anna, you are an artist and you notice things other people don’t see when you are driving along, like textures and colours. The kid’s don’t see those things.”

Ahhh yes, I guess that explains why I get so excited about dead trees (glorious sculptures reaching to the heavens) and drought ridden paddocks. But still!! Any of you who are over 45 should remember driving long distances on holidays as kids with nothing to do but look out the window and listen to tapes on your walkman. It’s precisely in those times of boredom that we have our most profound thoughts, dream great dreams and our imaginations are ignited.

Anyway, I’ll keep you posted on my progress with Broken Hill. At this stage, with one week left of the holidays, the best I am managing to muster up for the family getaway is a trip an hour down the coast to another beach (sigh…really!? that’s the best we can do? Ugh.) Actually, even that is seeming too hard (insert eye roll). I’ll let you know if we make it out the door.

Ok. I am an ungrateful twat. I will own it.

Ok, back to my road trip. It has been on these country drives that I imagined little photo shoots with a cake, or ideally a whole dessert table, set up in some random farmer’s ploughed paddock or an abandoned old house. The more rustic the better. Each time I saw such creative potential my heart would leap inside my overly emotional heart and I would convince myself that one day, one day I am going to just do it.  Of course I don’t have the courage to actually face a real farmer and ask him if I can do such a silly thing on his property, so when I had the opportunity to finally run away from home by myself, I resolved to do a covert op and carry out my mission (should I choose to accept it) in stealth and secrecy. Yes! I would be the cake vigilante. 

The plan was this…drive along with eyes peeled until I saw a suitably photogenic place to stop where I could pull off the road easily and safely. I packed only a few rustic props and had the cake all boxed up. After the first stop I realised how fortunate I was to be driving a huge van, because I could pull over and the van acted as a shield between myself and the road. It also gave me a sense of privacy and made me feel safe from any scary farmers who might pull into their dusty driveways (where I was usually parked) and growl at me. 

After the first stop I was beside myself with excitement. It was such a success. I literally couldn’t get the smile off my face. I was beaming, feeling so alive and creative, like I was doing exactly what I was designed to do, flourishing in my God given gifts. Not to sound overly dramatic, but in the solitude I began to recognise a familiar old friend emerging. I wasn’t Mum. I wasn’t even a wife. I was simply Anna. I was me. I felt like the whimsical teenage dreamer I used to be, full of unhindered joy and unbridled delight.  Being a stay at home mum for almost thirty years so far, with another nine to go, it has been a challenge to carve out my own identity and maintain a healthy sense of who I am in amongst the joys and responsibilities of motherhood. But with each stop, a little bit more of my ‘inner AnnE’ (with an E) was breaking through, and I welcomed her with affection.

Sometimes all we need is to break out of the mama mould for a minute. Motherhood is a long haul, and while it is undoubtedly the greatest joy and privilege of my life, it is still a long haul. I know for me, I have needed to come up for air. To notice the world around me and look up from the often mundane chores that seem endless and fruitless, but in essence are essential in keeping the the family train chugging along smoothly. It didn’t take much, and it cost even less. One day. One day out doing what I love to do. One day allowing my free spirited nature to chase a dream and create beauty out of the ordinary. I tell you that drive filled up my tank and breathed life into my very soul. I might not be in a position right now to completely spread my wings and fly off into all that is in my creative heart to do, but as one dear friend often reminds me, it’s important to keep stretching those wings, to take moments to exercise and expand them just to remind ourselves that they are there and one day, when the time is right, they will be strong enough to make us soar.  

Thanks again for listening to my rambles, my heart. I know we are all on different journeys, but right now this is mine. Thank you for allowing me the time and space to share it. 

Lots of love,

Anna xx