by Krista | Jan 25, 2016 | Summer
It’s been a beautiful weekend with just the right mix of fun and rest.
Sunday was spent with dear friends at our friend Sue’s house in Brisbane, chatting up a storm over a table laden with roast chicken, homemade spelt bread, heaps of veggies and salads, cold beers, and more than a few glasses of homemade wine.
When we weren’t visiting, we were in Sue’s back yard engaged in medieval combat and practicing archery. So. Much. Fun. At least it was until I let off a wild shot that punctured Sue’s water tank and sent precious water squirting out like a fountain! Ack!
Thankfully there was no shortage of handy blokes on hand and while one plugged the hole with a stick, others scrounged in the shed for washers and bolts and soon had the hole fixed. Phew!!! I was horrified, but once the hole was fixed everyone laughed heartily and teased me mercilessly. Sue thought it was hilarious, bless her, and her neighbor’s grandsons praised me enthusiastically for my fantastic archery skills, the little buggers.
Today was much less dramatic, but every bit as fun. I had an honest to goodness Day Off. No farm work, no writing or law or school work, no garden or house projects.
My friend Parker always makes scones on a resting day, and I followed her excellent example with a big batch of tender, buttery Spelt Cheddar Dill Scones. Swoon.
I spent most of the day tucked up in bed relaxing my little heart out, sipping coffee, eating scones, writing in my journal, and reading an excellent new book Sue loaned me. Bear popped in now and then for visits and to show me the new scabbards he’s making for our swords. Clouds made everything dark and cozy, and smatterings of rain sent the most fragrant breezes through the open windows.
I feel so much better: rested, nourished, spoiled. The best Day Off I’ve had in ages.
What is your favorite sort of Day Off? xo
by Krista | Jan 23, 2016 | Summer
“For after all,
the best thing one can do when it is raining is let it rain.”
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I do so love a rainy Saturday morning, when the world is dark and hushed and all the rough edges are blurred and softened through a drizzly curtain of raindrops.
Today is such a day, a day for baking bread and sipping enormous mugs of coffee and getting lost in a good book and drifting off for morning (and afternoon!) naps. A pottering day without deadlines or rushing about, just happy little projects like sewing with Bear and writing a story just for fun and staring contentedly out the window at dancing tree branches and dripping eaves.
Wishing you a beautiful and restful weekend. xo
by Krista | Jan 20, 2016 | Summer
Growing up near the exquisitely beautiful Rocky Mountains in Canada made me a lifelong lover of alpine meadows. My childhood was spent hiking them with my parents and three little brothers, assorted cousins, aunts, uncles, and family friends. We young ones would race across the lush expanse, leaping as high as we could off obliging logs and stumps, collect fistfuls of wildflowers, and search the undergrowth for tiny alpine strawberries.
I search out alpine meadows wherever I can find them. I’ve hiked to them in British Columbia, Italy, and Alberta, Germany, Austria, and Switzerland, Slovenia, Bosnia, and Albania. Each one is unique yet boasts the same elements: stunning views, cool, fresh air, and wondrous beauty.
Hiking in the Bunya Mountains was my first experience of an Australian alpine meadow, and I wasn’t disappointed.
The instant recognition in my heart almost hurt with its intensity. Emotionally I was whisked back to my childhood, and wouldn’t have been surprised in the least to see Bighorn Sheep grazing in the distance or a black bear ambling along to the next berry patch.
I couldn’t stop smiling as we wandered through, watching millions of wildflowers dancing in the buffeting winds, stopping to watch a huge goanna waddle across our path and hustle into the undergrowth.
The trees, flowers, and wildlife in an Australian alpine meadow may be different to what I’m used to, but the feeling is the same: freedom, space, unfettered joy.
Sue and I walked slower through the meadow than we did on any other part of our trek through the Bunya Mountains, both of us wanting to soak up the bliss of cool winds and gorgeous vistas. We were so glad we chose the 10 km hike so we didn’t miss out on this treasure of a place.
At last we couldn’t drag our heels any longer and bid farewell to the alpine meadow.
It certainly helped that the next part of our hike was entered through this magical archway. Who could resist such loveliness?
Do you have a place from your childhood that always brings back happy memories? xo
by Krista | Jan 18, 2016 | Summer
Entering the Bunya Mountain rainforest is like stepping into a fairyland.
The hum of traffic disappears, distant voices are silenced, and even the sunlight vanishes behind the canopy of trees that towers far, far overhead, only slipping through occasional gaps to provide shimmers of light on rain-drenched leaves.
It’s a wonderful place to walk, cool and dark, moist and lush, with so many treasures underfoot to discover. We found tiny mushrooms and vivid fungi clusters, glossy clumps of berries and showers of flowers that drifted down from unseen branches above.
We gazed in wonder at the massive trees around us, each one a unique configuration of color and texture, some swallowed up by eerie strangler figs, like the ghost gum below.
Up and down, side to side, our eyes danced from one beauty to another. Aren’t these sculptures amazing? I think they’re some sort of fungi, but they looked like ice crystals or snow carvings.
I was awed by the tangles of roots that tumbled over each other, twisting and turning before disappearing into a sea of ferns.
The rainforest is a dappled vision of shades of green, but now and then a burst of color would appear in the form of tropical flowers or vivid red and yellow leaves that tumbled down from the canopy above.
We found waterfalls, lazy streams, and crystal clear pools that looked like scenes out of Swiss Family Robinson.
We clambered over big rocks to sit by one stream and lingered there a long time munching on crisp apples and walnuts. We listened to the gurgle of water, the shushing of wind through the trees, and chatted amiably with other hikers as they trudged past.
One thing I love about my friend Sue is she’s comfy to travel with. A great conversationalist with interesting things to chat about, she’s also at ease with quiet.
In the rainforest you need that companionable silence, time to walk mindfully and let your thoughts amble along wherever they need to go as you bask in the wonder of magnificent trees and delicate ferns, glossy fallen leaves underfoot and serene little streams tumbling gently beside the trail.
With each mile you feel the stress of everyday life dissipate, and rather than worrying about bills or troublesome issues, your brain is lulled into delicious rest. It’s lovely.
After a couple of hours on the trail, the incline grew steeper and suddenly we emerged into a breathtaking alpine meadow.
by Krista | Jan 12, 2016 | Summer
Our first night in the Bunya Mountains was my favorite sort of night: rain pouring, wind whipping, me warm and dry in my tent reading a good story by lamplight. It was like sleeping out in a fort again and I loved it.
We woke the next morning to overcast skies and air just chilly enough to need flannels and scarves. What a treasured thing after so many hot summer days back home.
We laughed with delight at the novelty – well, I was delighted, my Kiwi friend Sue pulled on layers and thought “What is this madness??!!” – and set the kettle on to boil.
There are few ways better to start a chilly morning in the mountains than hot, strong coffee and buttered slices of Sue’s homemade raisin almond cake. Sheer bliss I tell ya.
The night before we’d perused a map of the rainforest, tracing various trails to see which ones we’d want to trek. Since neither of us had much experience hiking in rainforests, we decided to go for a short walk before breakfast to check the condition of the trails before making up our minds.
So we sipped the last of our coffees, donned boots and hats, bid good morning to our neighbors, and headed into the woods.
It was gorgeous, lush and green with wide trails that made walking a pleasure. Recent rains made everything damp and cool, but thanks to years of leaves and twigs falling on the trails, they weren’t slippery or treacherous.
It only took minutes before we decided to take the longest 10 km trail. Who could resist walking for hours among such spectacular vines that disappeared into the canopy that towered above us? To put the vines into perspective, each of those strands is as thick or thicker than the average leg. Incredible!
Smaller vines crept along the ground, clambering up trees, dangling down from unseen branches high above like beaded curtains.
I couldn’t get enough of the ferns. So vibrant, shimmering with raindrops, looking so wondrously alive.
We saw massive Bunya Pines – keeping a wary eye skywards for the soccer ball sized pine cones that like to drop without warning – the sinewy tentacles of Strangler Figs, and the luminous glow of the occasional Ghost Gum.
If the rainforest was this beautiful next to our camping spot, we could only imagine how fabulous it would be further in and higher up.
So we headed back to camp to prepare ourselves for the 4-hour hike with a hearty breakfast: soft boiled eggs, fresh tomatoes and cucumbers, walnuts and cashews, and a cup of strong tea.
Thoroughly sated we then packed up camp, tucking away dishes and furniture, locking the van, zipping my tent securely closed. We filled the backpack with water bottles and snacks, cameras and first aid supplies, map and whistle, sunscreen and mosquito repellent, and then we were off.
I can’t wait to show you what we saw. xo
by Krista | Jan 10, 2016 | Summer
After Sue and I left the historic Woolshed at Jondaryan, we headed north on our adventure. We aimed for the Bunya Mountains, a place that promised forest, views, and cooler temperatures.
It did not disappoint.
As Sue’s trusty van inched higher and higher up into the mountains, we opened our windows to breathe in the fresh air and brrr! We could hardly believe the difference in temperatures between our farm and the Bunya Mountains as we switched from sweltering to shivering. We hastily pulled cozy flannel shirts over our sundresses and felt much better.
How I loved it. With overcast skies that foretold rain, dense forest, massive trees, and clean, cold air, it felt just like my old stomping grounds in Canada or Washington State.
As we moseyed our way through the trees, exclaiming at the massive Bunya pines and dramatically twisting vines, we emerged into a clearing that would serve as our home for the next two days and nights.
Much to our delight, we weren’t the only ones in residence. All over the grassy sward were wallabies happily noshing on green grass.
I know these beauties are normal sights to most Aussies, but to my Canadian self they are still a novelty.
Aren’t they gorgeous? The ones on our farm hightail it out of sight as soon as they catch wind of us, but these lovelies ignored us completely, utterly unfazed by our presence, letting us wander among them sighing happily at their adorableness.
They amazed me as they nuzzled each other, scratched an itchy elbow, and hopped from one verdant patch to the next.
The most wonderful moment was when a tiny joey hopped out of its mother’s pouch to have a bit of a graze with the grown-ups before crawling right back in again for a snuggle.
We finally tore ourselves away from wallaby-watching when the rumble of thunder reminded us we’d better get our camp set up before the storm arrived.
We found a spot with lovely views of the woods and hastily arranged table and chairs, organized food supplies and Sue’s van room, and put up my tent. I closed the last zipper a mere 40 seconds before the rain pelted down. I hid inside for the duration, listening to the rain pelt against my waterproof tarp as I cozied in and read my book, thinking that I couldn’t have asked for a better start to our trip.
The storm dissipated after a few chapters, and Sue and I emerged from our homes into the rain-washed air to make a hot dinner.
Sue poured wine and collected the fresh basil as I boiled up plump gnocchi and poured on a simple tomato sauce and generous sprinklings of Parmesan cheese.
Then we settled into our cushion-topped chairs to chat, eat, and watch our neighbors attempt to wrestle a too-big mattress into a too-small tent. It took seven of them huffing and puffing, pushing and shoving, but they managed it. We were duly impressed.
After welcoming us with a humdinger of a rainy storm, the Bunya Mountains made up for it with a spectacular sunset.
It was the end of a wonderful first day of adventuring in Southern Queensland. xo
