Dear Mummsy - An Open Letter

It’s that time of year again – Mother’s Day. You know, that commercialised con? That designated day when big business tells us to buy something and make a public, conformed, socially syncopated display of mumma love? This year to show my love I made you a letter... 

You're Getting Older Girl

My annual ode to getting older. It has a dark beginning but hang in there, it has a happy(ish) ending… I was in the midst of a sweaty throng of other rock fans jumping up and down to my fave live band feeling super fucking happy...

Commute: The Magic Between Departure and Arrival

Today I slid my laptop into a beach bag with coffee money, wandered out the back gate to the beach, stopped to take a close-up of a flower still covered in dew, then walked along the beach to a little café to sip coffee and write... I reflected on how things change and how the word ‘commute’ has taken on a very different meaning for me...

Dear Dad: An Open Letter

Some of my favourite memories are of growing up with you on the farm. Friday afternoons when you’d pick the three of us girls up from school, grab a pizza, then head home and watch Graham Kennedy’s Funniest Home Videos. Then you’d let us stay up late to watch a movie and eat Cadbury's Snack chocolate.

At Least the Wattle Keeps on Blooming

Mum sits the three of us down at the kitchen table and asks us if we’ve noticed that she and Dad have been arguing a lot. I’m eight, the oldest and the most outspoken. I ask as a joke if they’re going to get divorced. It seems like such a whacky possibility. Something that happens on TV, not in our house. 

It's Not Too Late

What would my 20-year-old self think of my almost 40-year-old self? She’d probably think, “Oh fuck, you still haven’t done any of that stuff? Now it’s way too late. You’re old. You missed the boat.” And I’d say, “Yeah, I know, I know, I’ve been thinking that too.”

Tomato & Onion Sandwiches

The shearing shed is a flurry of activity. The three sets of mechanical shears powered by the loud petrol engine buzz and clitter-clatter in competition with each other. As do the shearers who hold the shears, bent over their sheep – deep in the meditation of their craft.

Measuring Moments: The Antidote to Not-Enoughness

Do you ever wonder if you’ve changed much over the last 20 years? And by change I don’t mean more wrinkles. I mean wisdom, lessons learned, improvement - existential progress. How can you tell? How do you make a quantitative assessment of a qualitative phenomenon? This is how...