26/52

Tom: Cool as a cucumber

Gracie: My spotty giggler, infront of my dream cottage

Joining in with Jodi & Poet in the 52 Project x

19/52

 Tom: Those freckles.

Gracie: Calling for her brother to come and run amongst the corn stalks

This week we have:

Celebrated a birthday

Had an early Mother's Day

Scored at soccer

Bought a wedding gown

Commenced renovation plans

Split a skirt

Bought a fish (welcome little Sushi!)

Joining in with Jodi - A portrait of my children once a week, every week in 2014.

18/52

Tom: This photo just feels so eerily nostalgic to me...

Grace: standing in the cold May wind, her hair still highlighted from the summer past

This week my thoughts have included:

* How am I ever going to finish this Leadership course? The content is airy-fairy, not the art and science like I am used to.

* Can't school work be done in school time? I want to afternoons to be free from deadlines, reading lists and handwriting

* Does my hips look big in this? Planning wedding dress appointments, sampling menu's and laying down deposits on trestle tables and bentwood chairs

* Why can't Autumn linger for a little while longer? The Winter wind got to my bones this weekend.. 

playing along with Jodi - a portrait of my children once a week, every week in 2014

17/52

Gracie: bringing in the washingTom: Down at the farm with his little shadow, Mollie
It has been a lonely week here without their little faces. We speak every night on the phone.. for this, I am grateful... but it doesn't fill the void like a big cuddle does.
Linking in with Jodi on the 52 Project x

16/52

Grace: She sits under the Weeping Mulberry, telling me stories and slapping away the mozzies
Tom: 'I want my picture.... here'...

Easter Long Weekend.. I plan for mine to be filled with a little chocolate indulgence and farm visits, leadership essays and a bit of an op-shop clean out.

A portrait of my children once a week, every week, in 2014.

Playing along with Jodi x

a sunday afternoon together

Ian left early in the morning to drive down the coast for a surf. He rang me about 40 mins after he left: the waves were small and not what he had hoped. He was coming back home, and I had to get ready to go out for breakfast.

Driving home from breakfast, I asked Ian if we could drive out to the National Park. We grabbed the rods, a few packets of sweets and a whole load of prawns. We drove down the dirt roads to our spot, bristle birds hopping along side us. Once we climbed down the sandstone cliff face, it was as if we were the only people in the world. We hung out together catching fish (and let me tell you, my silver drummer was definetly the catch of the day), laughing and eating our lolly stash.

The ocean pulse was moving north along with the whales that are currently migrating. Their breaths could be seen above the surface, a gentle mist that soon dissipated into the air. Pods of dolphins swam by us, splashing and playing, keeping their young close. We took only what we needed, beautiful black drummer which would feed our bellies that night. I breathed the salt air deep into my lungs and looked at Ian. This is were we belong. This is living.