After travelling for two nights top to bottom of the Earth, we stumbled out into daylight, rubbing our eyes. To my teary joy and wonder, I’ve found myself at home.
Some postcards from my jet lagged, delirious joy at being plonked suddenly in summer, where ‘everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.’
Waiting. For that moment when you get to hug your family again after a year apart.
Then the next moment, when the seaside coffee you’ve been craving finally arrives, with a side of hydrangeas.
Hello Pacific, my old friend. How I’ve missed you.
Current book love: The Burial by Courtney Collins. Current place-to-read love: in bed with a cup of earl grey tea and those roses (swoon) from my family’s garden, while sparrows and honeyeaters flit through the branches of the bottlebrush in bloom through the window. The sound of the ocean breaks in the distance. In a minute my bestie will tap on my door and scuttle into bed with me for morning chats. Current favourite way to start the day.
Boardwalk wanderings. Sea-soaked poetry. Coffee. Salty skin. Daydreams hanging from wispy clouds puffing over the silver and turquoise sea. Long green stories washing up on shore, flotsam and jetsam.
I have been feeling very clearheaded lately and what I want to write about today is the sea. It contains so many colors. Silver at dawn, green at noon, dark blue in the evening. Sometimes it looks almost red. Or it will turn the color of old coins. Right now the shadows of clouds are dragging across it, and patches of sunlight are touching down everywhere. White strings of gulls drag over it like beads. It is my favorite thing, I think, that I have ever seen. Sometimes I catch myself staring at it and forget my duties. It seems big enough to contain everything anyone could ever feel.
— Anthony Doerr, All the Light We Cannot See.
Feeling all my feelings after an extraordinary, enriching, salty-love-soaked and windswept day. Whether under sun or stars, I hope you dive deep and find treasure today, wildflowers.
A collection of magic, gathered and given from this land I belong to, the people I love here, and the dreams I have grown in this dirt. Sometimes the little things are the most powerful spells, aren’t they?
Whispering secrets to the sea and pinning my hopes and dreams on the wings of the gulls, soaring under clouds heavy with stories. Time to leave the coast and head to the big smoke, on my way to my writing residency at Varuna. From jet lag to excitement sickness and everything in between, life feels bewildering, in the very best way.
More to come soon. I hope you’ve cast nets far and wide for your daydreams this weekend too, wildflowers.