Millthorpe

I hadn't made any hard plans for the remainder of my weekend after the floral workshop. I wanted to leave it open to serendipity and see what happened. I figured that I'd probably find my accommodation, grab something for dinner and spend my Saturday night editing all the photos I'd taken that day. Belinda had a far better idea and suggested we meet for dinner at Tonic in Millthorpe with Libby and their friend Nicole. Not wanting to shun a first class meal and good company...I immediately said yes.

It was a short drive to Millthorpe where I found the beautiful little studio I'd booked, tucked away at the end of a garden path.  

(Photo from For 2)

For 2 was filled with so many thoughtful details including a bottle of wine and nibbles, plenty of beautiful books to pore over and breakfast & coffee all set for the next morning. The studio was stylishly decked out and filled with high quality linen making it so cosy and comfortable.

 I happily collapsed on the couch and unwound for an hour before dinner...relishing the late afternoon without the usual demand to feed hungry boys. 

At twilight I strolled down to the main street...it reminded me of the passage in Wind in the Willows when Mole and Ratty passed through a village on their way home from an adventure and found the street quite still, all inhabitants tucked up inside eating dinner or warming themselves by the fire. Millthorpe had that same kind of feeling...everyone tucked up in their homes as I wandered down the main street to Tonic. 

Dinner was a complete delight...Nicole, Belinda and Libby have known each other for years and the conversation flowed fast and free as incredible seasonal dishes came out one after the other. I realised as I watched these amazing women interact, that I've missed these kind of moments. After my dearest Rach died, I found myself avoiding social gatherings. I kept to myself a lot, I stopped investing in real life catch ups with friends who were still here, preferring to maintain my friendships online. Saturday night inspired me to put myself back out in the real world more often.

Chef Tony Worland, (who happens to be Nicole's hubby) came out and joined us at close of service as we were tucking into dessert and coffee. My sides were aching from laughter by the end of the night. Tony and Nicole have created an absolute gem with Tonic. Such a feast, such impeccable service from the staff and such warmth and welcome for a fine dining establishment. I bid everyone goodnight then wandered back to my little studio feeling perfectly content. Not quite ready to curl up under the covers, I spent a couple of hours editing my images from the day before finally falling into a deep and undisturbed sleep. Sunday morning involved a sleep in and breakfast in the sunshine. I sat on a garden bench, watching the birds flit about and the magnolia blossoms sway in the breeze as I savoured each slow spoonful of berries and yoghurt. 

It was a lovely, gentle way to ease into the day.

It was such a splendid morning that a wander through the streets with my camera was an absolute must! Bels recommended the Millthorpe Providore for the best coffee and, as ever she was right, it was amazing. That small town cliche of everyone knowing everyone proved true for Millthorpe as I observed locals chatting animatedly to each other while I waited for my order, but it came across in the best way. It left an impression of real community and it made me want to stay and be part of it all. 

I spent a while exploring the streets, admiring the gorgeous heritage architecture and rambling gardens. There is so much character imbued in this village and I'm keen to return with my family to stay longer and discover so much more.

My first port of call on the way home was a quick stop in Carcoar to see Belinda and thank her for inviting me to take part in the magic. We enjoyed one last chinwag before I continued on down the highway in search of fields of gold.

This weekend away was everything I needed. 

Wide open skies, country roads, time to think, creative souls, beauty and purpose, nourishment and friendship. I got to challenge myself with my photography and spend time in the company of truly wonderful people.

When can I do it all again?

Postcard from the living.

Four seasons have come and passed us again.

Our kids have grown lankier, funnier, more creative. 

We’re still here.

I dreamt last night of the baby I lost and today I so dearly wanted to call you to talk about her.

But you are gone.

There’s an ache in my throat that just won’t go away.

You are gone. 

You are gone.

We’re still here.

Piecing ourselves back together after The Shattering.

One year on.

The Missing, it stings.

Even when The Living is sweet.

Wishing you were here Rach. 

A Lanyon Farewell.

It's been six long months since my last post. 

I well and truly lost my blogging mojo due to our frenetic pace of life last year. 

But today it came back.

 Today was my best friend's funeral. 

Today, I want to capture the memory of this beautiful creature and share it with the world.

I first met Rach 21 years ago at the church we both attended. Ours was merely an acquaintance back then which was to be expected given the five year age gap. Fast forward almost two decades later. A mutual friend reconnected us when Rach and her husband moved to Canberra on an army posting. I remember how Rach and I clicked immediately on her first visit to my place. We had a wonderful conversation amid the territorial roars emanating from Jack's room. The kids took a little longer to warm to each other that day but eventually they sorted out the pecking order and became fast friends. The fact that faith was still very much at the core of Rach's life but no longer in mine had little bearing on our friendship. We shared a mutual respect for our alternate beliefs and focused on our shared experiences of motherhood.

Her friendship came at a time when I was enduring my second mastectomy and I found her joyful personality and generous spirit so uplifting. We had weekly playdates with our Littles and spent many mornings at Lanyon Homestead, Cotter Dam and various museums and parks around Canberra.

Rach always came armed with crazy strong coffee, a big hug and enough food to feed an army.

We shared all the frustrations, joys and absurdities of motherhood together and it was lovely.

We had so much in common but I never expected to share the same oncologist with Rach.
My darling friend was diagnosed with a rare and extremely aggressive ovarian cancer in 2015. It was an odd experience going back to the chemo room at Canberra Hospital to sit with Rach instead of receiving treatment myself. I was glad that I could draw on my own experience and help look after the kids or be a sounding board when chemo got rough. Things looked positive for a little while and Rach made plans for the family to join Steve on his overseas posting. The day before they were due to fly out she received the news that the cancer had returned and everything was put on hold. They settled in Brisbane to be close to family and a new treatment began. She did everything she possibly could to survive the wretched disease. Her poor body bore the brunt of extreme surgeries and several types of chemo until it just couldn't bounce back anymore. Despite the horror show that played out...she held her head high, kept faith and imparted an immense amount of joy to everyone she came into contact with. She remained the arch nurturer, putting everyone else's welfare before her own.

I flew up to Brisbane a few weeks ago to spend a night with Rach in her room on the palliative care ward. I wish I could express how much of a privilege it was to have that time with her.

My darling friend was in her final weeks and her body was so utterly broken. It was by no means the first time I'd seen a friend in the final stage of cancer, but it was the most heartbreaking. 

It was a privilege to wake whenever she stirred through the night, to help her to the bathroom, chase up pain relief, rub her feet and cool her forehead with a cloth to ease her fever. In the early hours of the morning when she had moments of lucidity we talked about her New Zealand holiday and seeing Adele in concert. The morphine caused her to talk in her sleep and most of the time it was her kids she was talking to. In those pre-dawn hours she woke from a dream in which she wasn't dying. It tore me to pieces when reality dawned on her and she sobbed in my arms. We cried together about the injustice of it all and how agonizing it was for her to not be around for Addy and Dunc as they grew up. She asked me how many days she had left, to which I said not many. She didn't want to leave everyone, most of all Steve and the kids, but she'd had enough of the incessant pain and was ready to let go.

In the morning, Rach's very dear friend Jules arrived. It was so good to finally meet her in person and so very special to spend that time together. We wrote in birthday cards for the kids when Rach no longer had the strength to do it herself. It was beyond precious and it's something I will never forget.

The time came for me to say my final goodbye. It was so very, very hard to walk out of that room.

 I am so grateful to have had those precious 24hrs with her and say all we wanted to say to each other.

I got the call from Rach's mum 10 days later to say that Rach had passed away peacefully in her sleep. I was home alone at the time and I cried inconsolably for the rest of the day.

I made the decision not to go back to Queensland for the funeral. Out of all the friends I've lost to cancer in the last few years, Rach's death has been the most devastating. I decided instead to go to Lanyon, our favourite place here in Canberra, and have my own private memorial for her.

Lanyon was shrouded in fog when I arrived this morning.

At the time that her funeral was scheduled to start, the fog lifted and the homestead was bathed in brilliant sunshine. So very, very Rach!

I sat with a coffee under the large oak tree where our kids used to make little camp fires out of sticks.

I soaked up the peaceful atmosphere and slowly wandered about the gardens and paddocks photographing everything that was beautiful and beloved to Rach.

At the end of the gravel walk I looked at the view of the gardens and the homestead beyond and had a quiet cry, remembering her, missing her.

I bought a seedling from the little plant stall by the front gate.

It reminded me of the Autumn Plant Fair we went to a couple of years ago with the kids and all the fun we'd had that day. A fitting way to remember my darling friend who adored having her own patch of dirt to grow things in.

She's gone now but her legacy of love and compassion will live on in the people who knew her.
I know that Steve and the kids will somehow get through this awful time with the support of family and friends but I wish to goodness that they didn't have to. I'm a better person for knowing Rach and I'm incredibly grateful for her friendship.

Farewell my beautiful friend.
Sleep tight.

xx Em.

Winter

Its been ever so long between posts...one week has blurred into another and I find myself on the cusp of school holidays wondering how on earth we've reached the middle of the year already?

Winter is here. Short days meld into long nights. A bitter wind cuts through layers and snow covers the peaks of the Brindabellas. The usual busyness of school term has been peppered with vet visits for sick cats, oncology check ups, weekend family hikes and playing local tourist. 

There have been some heartbreaking weeks lately. 

I said goodbye to two very dear friends, both expected but nonetheless a wrench. 

One forever to cancer...

and the other to an army posting.

Annie's death was something I'd been dreading since Christmas. I'm so grateful she's no longer in pain, but so devastated for her. Leaving her four littles behind was something that tore her apart. I didn't cry the week that she passed, I spent days feeling incredibly tired and numb wondering if the tears would fall at all. Its the awful reality of forming friendships in a cancer support group. There comes a time when it feels almost normal to lose one friend after another to this hideous disease. Words feel hollow and meaningless. They don't change anything, they don't make anything better or easier. Cancer is fucking awful, coming back time and again to hurt, destroy and maim. End of story. The tears did eventually roll, on the day of Annie's funeral. I cried not for myself, but for Annie. For the injustice of yet another young mother taken too soon.

A little while before Annie died my oncologist reminded me that if and when my cancer returned, it would be a case of managing my death, not treating the disease. There was a time when that statement would have frightened me, but not now.  I'm weary of all things cancer. I'm done with treatment. I pushed it to the limit and now I'm done. Everyone has their limit, this is mine and I don't regret my choice. My oncologist wasn't happy with my decision but I'm ok with that. If it does come back I'll never know if it was because of my choice or if it was just inevitable, there is no point in feeling guilty. I'm done with guilt and regret. I'm just done. 

The day after I found out about Annie, I had to say goodbye to my best friend Rach who moved interstate. It's not forever thank goodness, but it was a definite wrench at a time when I really could have done with her company. Timing can really suck sometimes. We're hoping to have a final catch up next week while we're in queensland for school hols. She'll be having surgery soon, (fecking cancer) and once she's recovered they'll be heading overseas for a new posting. I already miss our weekly coffee dates and playdates. She's been such a brilliant friend and I love her to bits. 

Some of the satisfying moments of the past few weeks have come from getting lost in sewing. 

I've been busy with custom orders for Puddleducklane Again, gifts for friends and whipping up some travel bags for our road trip. 

We're all packed and ready to hit the road on Wednesday. Poor husband has to stay behind to work and we're going to miss him terribly, but we're so excited to see my family and friends in Qld. 

It's a mammoth 3000km round trip but we break it up into sizable chunks...stopping off in some lovely country towns on the way up and back and staying in an apartment by the beach for the week that we're on the Sunshine Coast.

My trusty camera is coming along so stay tuned for holiday snaps. I promise not to leave it another six weeks between posts. 

xx Em