This morning started out as most mornings do on our little farm: waking up early and starting the list of things that need to be done each day to keep hearth and home running smoothly. Smoothly-ish.

I wound the cuckoo clock, fed and cuddled the dogs, called the sheep and goats out to pasture, then headed to the gardens to see how they’d fared after the ferocious wind storm we had yesterday.

The winds were both awe-inspiring and scary. Massive gum trees swayed like saplings, leaves, bark, and branches hurtled across the yard, furniture toppled, animals huddled behind walls and water tanks, and the power flickered and died, over and over again. We had to close the house up to keep from choking on the great clouds of dust blown in from out west.

This morning only the gentlest of breezes whispered through the leaves, cooling my skin as I wandered from garden to garden. Some things were worse off than others, leaves withered and drooping, a few branches broken and battered, but everything survived. I knew that a good drink of water would help things bounce back quickly, so I turned on the pump and hooked up hoses and soon water was cascading over the cracked ground and thirsty plants.

And suddenly, just like that, my parched little world became a fairyland that took my breath away.

The rest of my chore list was postponed while I stood there in the early morning light and sighed in sheer happiness at the spectacle of glistening water droplets and shimmering spray.

Such moments are transporting, for they make magic out of the mundane.

Like when the afternoon sun illuminates glass cups in the drying rack and suddenly washing dishes is a golden moment, or a stray sunbeam breaks through the clouds and sets dust motes dancing and suddenly it doesn’t matter that you haven’t dusted in weeks.

I’ve been thinking a lot about magic lately. Not in terms of casting spells or making things disappear, but in how I go through daily life, my mundane, considering ways to make them a bit more magical.

This morning I have two candles burning while I work, one in a teacup made by a dear friend, the other spiced with apples and cinnamon to make my summery Australian world feel a wee bit Christmasy.

I picked a handful of sweet peas and stuck them in an emerald green goblet I found at a thrift store, and it’s sitting on my desk next to a Christmas mug full of rosemary tea to ease the headache I’ve had since all that dust blew in.

My desk is something utterly mundane that to me, is magical. Bear made it for me. It’s a lap desk made of simple pine plywood, nothing flashy or posh, but I love it so very, very much for it allows me to work with ease and comfort.

I can set it up in my armchair so I can hang out with Bear while he watches a movie, or in bed so I can look out at trees and fields while I write articles or work on my next book or manage social media accounts for my clients.

On especially hot days I can take it out onto the breezy veranda, Fezzik curled up beside me, one paw resting on my leg to make sure I don’t go anywhere.

It’s a simple object, but it makes life so much nicer.

One of the best things I’ve done to bring more magic into my life is to work specific hours. Instead of leaping into action at the first hint of something needing to be done, I don’t even think about work (or try not to) until 9 a.m. This gives me 5 whole hours to do simple but lovely things that make me happy.

This morning Bear and I had coffee and a chat on the veranda, I made a batch of elderberry cordial and he made breakfast, I wrote in my journal, rode my bike, picked flowers and herbs, and took pictures of my magical garden. Just little nothing things that make all the difference.

Soon the cuckoo clock will chime 9 o’clock. It’s time to work.

What are ways you bring a bit of magic into your mundane? xo