{9::365} watch with glittering eyes


The crispness of early morning still hangs in the air as we fill our water bottles and load up the daypack. Slowly we wind our way up, from our river-side camp at the bottom of the valley, to the ridge wishing across the top of the Great Dividing Range. Air conditioner off, windows down, the whoo-hoop of the whip birds echoing above the chatter of our small explorers as we find the start point of our walk. Binoculars, part of a well-chosen Christmas gift, rotate between the two big boys, and then land around the neck of Miss Four. Her freshly minted role of lookout is taken very seriously, a little call of “mummy! Wait!” halting my progress every few steps, followed by a scrabble of little feet against the gravel, and a hand against my elbow, as she steadies herself. She stares intently through the lenses, along the path, then to each side, before pointing them straight down, and then, letting them drop, she looks up at me with those big brown eyes. ” ‘sok, mummy, there’s no snakes,” and we are off again, for a few steps at least, until another snake check is interrupted by a rock catching her eye, and we hang back while daddy & the boys walk ahead. She investigates, as I revel in the joy of seeing the world through her eyes, where everything is magical and full of wonder, where even the most ordinary rock is worth a closer look.

bookworms {235::366}

Walking in to preschool, a table filled with books greeted us, and a sign announced the book fair as part of book week. Master Three raced over, and right on top, lay a Dinosaur Hot Wheels book, quickly snatched up into eager young hands and cuddled against his chest. “I has the Dinothaur book, pwease, mummy? I LOVE dinothaurs!!”, the big blue eyes looked into mine, pleading. Reluctantly, he lay it back on the table, not convinced that the book would still be waiting for him tomorrow when we came again, and mummy would come prepared with some money and buy it for him. Leaving in the afternoon, he gazed longingly at the table, and then, as we passed another family at the gate, the tears started. Those people were going to buy that dinosaur book, he was sure of it. Upon our return, of course, there was no dinosaur book, but thankfully, right at the bottom of the spare box inside, we found the last copy, and he grinned all the way home, his brand new book not leaving his hand for a minute. Of course, Mater Five and Little Miss needed books too. Just like their mama, all threee are bookworms, and as soon as we arrived home, all three scattered, and were soon absorbed in the stories, the silence broken only by the whisper of turning pages.


{joining in this week with Thankful Thursday, because I am so thankful to have such wonderful children, and that they love nothing better than a story. Or ten.}

the one where the boys tidy the toy room.


Arriving home in the dark, I dump my bags on the bed, and sneak down the hallway to softly kiss my babies as they slept. Leaning over Master Five, little arms sneak around my neck and he pulls me close, telling me how he missed me. Master Three stirs, and begs me to lay with him, just for a moment, he’s having trouble sleeping, though the sleepiness in his voice and the steady breathing as I’d entered the room gave the lie to his ruse. But still, I lay with him, snuggling in close. I kiss him goodnight, and tiptoe into Little Miss’s room, and leave a whisper of a kiss on her cheek, willing her not to wake. I make my way back to the loungeroom, and passing the toyroom, can’t help but be impressed at the incredibly clean floor. Then I walk into the room…


i’ll remember

“Pway twains, mama?” a small boy would ask, and so I’d get down, and we’d set up the track, and around and around we’d go. The boy grew, the fmaily grew, and the train collection grew. Then the house grew, and suddenly the train set that had become a summer toy, while the only room to play it was on the deck, suddenly became an all-year-round-take-up-the-toyroom toy. Four years since that first set, and that small toddler is now a tall lanky kindergarten boy, and yet, he still turns those big brown eyes at me, engine in hand, “Would you please come and play trains with me, mummy? Because you make GREAT tracks!”

I know, in years to come, when I’m old and doddery, and my memory starts failing, these are the moments I will cling to. Of a small boy or two on my lap, and a multitude of tracks, trying to cuddle and build at the same time. Of a tiny girl coming running through the door, and the boys grabbing their trains, and laying on the tracks “HOLD ON TO YOUR TRAINS, HERE COMES THE ELSA STORM!!!”. Moments upon moments, built as steadily and logically as one track piece after another.



Like so many nights before, a child’s cry pierces the darkness, and drags me from my bed. I go to our daughter, and pull her up to me, as her arms wind around my neck, and together we make our way up the hallway. We sit on the lounge, and just like before, she curls around my body, cheek to chest, listening as my heart beat soothes her back to sleep. Sucking her thumb, instead of nursing as she once did, but the comfort of her mama’s closeness is enough to soothe her. Her breathing slows, sleep creeps in, and she fights, murmuring to me, and then, as she always did when she nursed, and contentment overtook her, her tiny hand reaches up, lays against my cheek, and starts stroking, as sleep wins the battle.



{well, if you’d been up all night chatting to mama, you’d need a post-breakfast nap too!}



photo walk :: texture

The first day of term was a pupil free for my biggest boy, and it was lovely hanging out with him. Master Three was at preschool, and when we found ourselves ready for pick up slightly earlier than usual, we grabbed out cameras and went for a photo walk. Our theme for the walk was “texture”.










And Master Five’s photos. These were all completely his own work. I didn’t crop or straigten in any, and only did a quick edit comparable to mine of similar set ups:


{for those interested – I was shooting a D700 w/Nikon 24-70/2.8 in manual mode, he was shooting a D90 w/Nikon 18-55/3.5-5.6(kit) in aperture priority}

life as a soccer mum


We are hanging our in the back yard, passing a Sunday afternoon in a lazy fashion. The little people gather on the step to enjoy their afternoon tea, and my heart swells as I watch them sitting together, happily chatting and eating. My camera, a change, is not by my side, so I dash of, and return, ready to record the “kodak moment”, to mull over, and return to in the future, when the little people aren’t so little, and they aren’t quite as happy to be in such close proximity.


I kneel down, and bring the camera to my eye, ready to frame and shoot. Little Miss looks up, and sees me poised. She grins, and before I can take the photo I’d wanted, she stands. She steps forward. Her big brown eyes stare confidently at the lens, as she screws up her nose, throws me her best cheeky grin, and proudly shows off the newest addition to her vocabulary. “Cheeeeeeesssssseee!” she squeals, bursting into giggles, and all my previously planned shots were discarded, banished by the cuteness of a little girl, and her pride in her own acheivement.


daylight what? {advent2011:1}

I feel the tentacles of consciousness curl around my mind, as my eyelids fight the inevitable, and fail. I’m awake. I roll over to see four friend-shaped lumps, lost to slumber beneath the blankets as the cold grey of dawn taunts me with the unfairness of finding myself awake, child-free, yet unable to enjoy a sleep-in. I check my phone, 4.30am. Not impressed. Thanks Queensland.

Slowly, I drag myself from bed, and once showered, feel able to tackle the day ahead. Returning to the cabin to collect my camera gear, a head emerges, and I wave good morning to Car, and via mime, indicate I’m off for a photo walk. Joined by my fellow early riser, Denni, we hit the trail and found inspiration in the crispness of early morning. A misty creek, the rising sun hitting the wildflowers. And the knowledge that tomorrow I’d be south of the border where we are wise enough to turn our clocks forward in summer.


It’s the tag going around Twitter at the minute, that has lit a fire in my soul, and pulling me back to my love of film photography. Just recently, I received back some developed film, and was thrilled with the results. Expect a lot more film stuff frome me! There’s just something about the thunk of the shuter being followed by the whir of the motor drive, of the little clicks as I turn the advance wheel of one my “play” cameras, the peeling plastic of an ejected polaroid. The careful consideration of each shot, the wait for the return of the negatives. Yes, I certainly do #believeinfilm

inverell childrens film photographer

Inverell lifestyle photographer