The Smoko.

Below the oft-treaded boards of this home lies a special, secret place. A haven where one man toils at his self-taught craft; that of making things out of wood and by hand – an old and revered pastime.

A craftsperson often rises early with the dawn, including on the weekend days, only breaking for a mid-morning meal and rest – affectionately known in the Antipodes as ‘smoko’.

At this home this certainly rings true. The first hours of morning light are for outdoor pursuits – a spot of gardening, a morning walk, and woodwork – until mid-morning when the springtime sun hits a patch of green in silent consent, signaling the time for rest and nourishment.

The art of preparing and sharing a meal is as old as the craft of working with wood, both commanding a sense of simplicity, slowness, careful arrangement and attention to detail. 

Enjoying a meal made for someone else, for a loved one, is one of life’s greatest pleasures. When you are preparing a meal for someone you know and love, you remember his or her favorite things and relish in watching them devour each bite.

A perfect weekend smoko is a complete meal, a mini degustation, a taste of all good things.

A fresh ruby red grapefruit, juiced by hand, alongside a steaming pot of Earl Grey tea.

A slab of wholemeal bread layered with caramelized onion chutney and sharp cheddar cheese. With a strawberry or two on the side.

A perfect hard-boiled egg and pickled gherkin followed by homemade granola with a fresh, creamy yoghurt and passionfruit topping.

At smoko, the food is at the centre, and a craftsperson is granted permission to refuel and bask in the morning light to prepare for a second stint of laboring into the afternoon hours. 

At smoko, the conversation should be as free flowing and easy as the dappled light on the walls of the house; covering plans for summer canoeing trips, future overseas adventures and rest-of-day activities like a leisurely walk, afternoon of reading and a small siesta.

A perfect springtime smoko is a small reminder. Of simple pleasures, the joy of manual labour and the rest time in between. And a taste – a promise – of shared meals to come.

*Set at the MM's Olinda home, which they move from today - *tears*

Before Midnight.

I reeeeeeeally cannot wait for this.  I'm going to re-watch Before Sunrise and Before Sunset, of course. Which is your favourite?

Friday on my mind.

Usually I'm pretty chilled about individual days of the week, probably because I work for myself.  I used to have a problem with Mondays but not so much anymore, we've come to co-exist without incident. 

But today, dear Friday has arrived and it's the winter solstice.  And, for some reason, I'm particularly excited about this one.  

It's winter and I dearly love the rain so this season always makes me a bit nutty (in a good way).  But in Melbourne the sun seems to be peeping through the clouds today...golly golly! 

And it's my darling friend Floozie's birthday party this evening.  Who doesn't like a party?  This kid sure loves a party, I wish I could wear mixed stripes and rollerskates to the party.  Actually...

I think I might do some gardening and tend to my worm farm over the next couple of days.  I'm also going to try and sleep in, swim some laps, read the new Kinfolk mag.  I might watch a vintage movie and rearrange my collection of ceramics on the top of my piano.  Winter has also inspired me to dress like a loon so some at-home fashion parades will be just the ticket.  And soup, there shall be soup!

I'm going to have a brilliant weekend.  You try to as well, ok?

A few recent loves...

Leunig muses about happiness on ABC Radio National.
The incomparable Joni Mitchell chatted with CBC Canada

I remembered this beautiful track by cuties The Honey Trees this morning, it's so darn lovely. 

Lovers.

“Go after her. Fuck, don’t sit there and wait for her to call, go after her because that’s what you should do if you love someone, don’t wait for them to give you a sign cause it might never come, don’t let people happen to you, don’t let me happen to you, or her, she’s not a fucking television show or tornado. There are people I might have loved had they gotten on the airplane or run down the street after me or called me up drunk at four in the morning because they need to tell me right now and because they cannot regret this and I always thought I’d be the only one doing crazy things for people who would never give enough of a fuck to do it back or to act like idiots or be entirely vulnerable and honest and making someone fall in love with you is easy and flying 3000 miles on four days notice because you can’t just sit there and do nothing and breathe into telephones is not everyone’s idea of love but it is the way I can recognize it because that is what I do. Go scream it and be with her in meaningful ways because that is beautiful and that is generous and that is what loving someone is, that is raw and that is unguarded, and that is all that is worth anything, really." - Harvey Milk

(inspiration and pic via The Yard)

The National.

The National performed acoustic arrangements of four songs from their new album, Trouble Will Find Me, for an NPR Tiny Desk Concert.  Super swell.

Stormy weather.

Hello lovers.  I've been thinking about you.

I've been thinking of this space.  So often. About how and why I have left it for so long.  It has been strange and I can't tell you how happy I am to be tapping on the keys and watching these words come to life.

How are you?

Oh, where to begin.  With whatever feels right, right?

Well, tonight the skies over Melbourne are purging.  They have literally just opened their arms and gone for it.  It is bucketing down.  I'm sitting at my dining table with very tired eyes but a beautifully happy mind.

I went to the most extraordinary concert tonight - a dear friend from an old life has become this remarkable singing healer. In a nutshell it involved lying on yoga mats for two hours drifting in and out of consciousness while someone I adore sang the most incredible tribal and Indigenous music.  It was extraordinary.  Very primal and very stunning.

When I emerged, far more tiny-yet-more-put-together than when I went in, I discovered it was wet.  Seriously wet. But, one challenging car ride later, I'm home; about to be tucked up in my cosy bed and hopefully dreaming sweet dreams.

I love the rain.  And I love adventures on Melbourne's streets.  Tonight brought both in their finest form.  And so I've come back to you.

I'm a hugely private person and a highly introverted processor of thoughts. And I've been mulling this need for blogging over in my mind for the past few days after a great conversation with dear friends over winter wines and mushroom croquettes.

Our online lives often become little slices of our real personas and so many of us only show our best possible side, untagging unflattering photos and carefully constructing a character who is forever content and breezily nonchalant.  I've been thinking of that a bit since and I've realised that while I retreat when shit is going down but I also find that I come to online spaces when I want to share something quite deep and real, whether it's a link or a thought or a funny picture; there's a meaning to it.

And I specifically come to this space with a quiet yet full mind.  And I've come to enjoy the chance to purge a little, like Melbourne's skies.  Not with any desire for feedback or attention but just as a comfort, as a processing ritual.  I never know whether anyone really reads it - it could be just people searching for hot shots of Lou Doillon (hey, she's smokin').

Even if you really are a human reading these messy words, it's still kind of anonymous.  And, just maybe, one of you is feeling the same thing at the same time.  How lovely.

I like it.  And I've missed it.  I'll be back more often, I promise.

In other news I've been listening to a Sydney muso quite a bit on my sabbatical.  His name is Oscar Lush.  I thought you may like to discover his beauty as well.

Above image by James Thomas.

Amanda Palmer - TED Talk.

This is utterly wonderful.  If your hope or faith in the arts has been shaken or altered this will bring you back from the brink.