The new year is still young (and yet, the first month is already half over somehow), so I figured it’s the perfect time to take stock on the year that was 2018. Ideally, I’d do a re-cap of my blog posts and share some of the highlights I recorded… except I only wrote eight blog posts for the entire year.
So, with thoughts of calendars still in my head, I thought I’d do a sort of blog calendar and share a photo from each month of 2018 with a little wordiness, because you can’t ask me to choose between words or photos. That’s like asking me to choose which is my favourite cat.
Read on for a snapshot of my 2018! Continue reading
There are many grand Christmas traditions in this house. No decorations go up before the 1st of December, for example. I get way too excited about putting icicle lights on the deck railings. Mince pies become a vital food group.
And I always leave my Christmas calendar until the very last minute.
But let’s backtrack a little first. Continue reading
Our Queenscliff trip changed my life.
Well, it changed my holiday breakfasts, at least.
The life-changing breakfast moment came when I was standing in line in a café in Point Lonsdale. I was contemplating my own order when the lady in front of me asked for grilled tomatoes with her eggs.
Up until now, my breakfast extras had consisted of smoked salmon, avocado or hash browns. I hadn’t even realised you could add on grilled or fried tomatoes, which are pretty much my favourite thing in the world (at breakfast time, anyway).
So I asked for grilled tomatoes and now that is how my holiday breakfasts will be for the next forever.
Let’s backtrack to a time before that life-changing breakfast; namely to a chilly, rainy, windy Saturday morning in July when I set off to pick up my Failboat friends Emily and Aimee. We’ll be backtracking even further in future blog posts since I have a lot of roadtripping to catch you up on. It turns out the last time I posted about a Failboats adventure was in April of 2016, and if you know anything about me by now, you should suspect that I’ve managed to pack in quite a bit of roadtripping in those two and a half years.
So please join me for the first episode of a lengthy series I’m calling ‘The Roadtrip Diaries’. Continue reading
In my previous post, I mentioned that I have a slightly enormous backlog of photos to share on the blog and that seems like a perfect excuse for a photo post. But which trip to choose? The Winter getaway to Queenscliff? The tour down an old coal mine in Autumn? Perhaps I could go back a little further to the fabulous Great Ocean Road trip of 2016?
As I said: a slightly enormous backlog of photos.
I thought about all of those options for a while and decided to go with something completely different.
The thing is, we’re fortunate to live in a rather beautiful region of the state and I love taking advantage of this fact. With such gorgeousness on tap, it’s easy to head off for a half-hour walk ten minutes from home and still find plenty of things to photograph.
Of course, this may have a lot to do with my compulsion to take photos at all possible times… but I’m pretty sure the fabulous surroundings help.
So let me take you back to a couple of weeks ago, when we drove a whole ten minutes to walk a section of the Warburton Rail Trail near Launching Place. Continue reading
There are many fine traditions in my life, one of which happens to be a tendency to go on a roadtrip at the drop of the hat. Unfortunately, another fine tradition seems to be my incredibly bad habit of waiting weeks before I share photos of the adventures on which I find myself with my exceedingly excellent friends, the Failboats. For example, I happened to be seeking out a blog post about a Failboats trip that occurred during a particular new year.
I found it in my March archives.
Today, however, I am delighted to report that these photos are only three weeks old and I must thus be improving when it comes to sharing my roadtripping photos. That means it’s under a month since I went to Canberra with the Melbourne contingent of the Failboats to commemorate the impending birth of another Failboat’s offspring. (Next time, I’m aiming to have the photographs up within a fortnight. This seems overly optimistic at this stage, but we’ll see.)
Join me as I share photographs with a bonus serve of My Thoughts on Roadtripping.
Has anyone else noticed that it’s almost October? The last time I looked, it was July. What happened there?
I guess moving house took up a significant portion of that time around here. I’ve also spent a lot of time thinking, I really should sort out my sewing room and study so I can actually use them, which is time that would have been better spent actually sorting out my sewing room and study, because at present, the only one using said rooms is my cat, Pickle, who has decided my desk chair is better suited to her afternoon sleeping requirements than any sitting I might be thinking of doing on it.
But today I’ve been reading blog posts from people who are sorting out their sewing spaces or trying to get into good routines and it’s made me think I should combine the two and see what happens.
The good news is that I’ve made a little progress since my last post. Continue reading
When I sold my 60D, I felt strange. It had been my companion for so long and I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d made the right choice. Was I going to be happy with my little OM-D? Only time would tell. On the up side, my selling the 60D had freed up some funds for the one thing my OM-D was lacking: a good lens. Or two.
There are dozens of choices when it comes to lenses for this little camera so it took me a while to narrow down my options, but I eventually settled on two prime lenses: the 17mm f1.8 and the 45mm f1.8. (With a prime lens, zooming is provided by your own movement either towards or away from the subject of your photographic gaze.) I loved the 17mm lens straight away and I’ve been using it for photos of my op shop finds and my handknitted goodies. The 45mm lens, though… I didn’t feel the love. But this is exactly what happened with my 50mm lens on my 60D: all I needed to do was force myself to use the lens until I worked out what it was best at.
I finally had a chance to do that when I visited the parents in Beechworth recently. Continue reading
My current theory on the passage of time goes a little like this: it waits until we’re not looking and then suddenly speeds up. It sneaks through a minute here and there, or perhaps a half hour or more if we’re really distracted. And it all adds up. I’ve been trying to grab hold of time and make the most of it all year and it’s been a dismal failure so far.
It seems when it comes to freezing time, the best tool is my camera. It doesn’t really help much when I’m trying to knit a million things in the course of a week, but it does help with capturing moments that are gone soon afterwards. Take this little fungi scene, for example: Continue reading
Last Friday, I bade farewell to a good friend. A friend who’d been with me at all the important events of the past few years. A friend who’d joined me on roadtrips and Failboats adventures and had even shared my cabin on a Pacific Island cruise.
Before things start to sound unnecessarily maudlin, I should explain that this friend is an inanimate object and I actually sold it, so I brought all of this on myself. It doesn’t stop me from feeling as though I’m missing something important, though.
Because last Friday, I sold my DSLR. Continue reading
If you were wondering where everyone was this Easter, it’s safe to assume they were in Beechworth at the Golden Horseshoes Festival. This festival celebrates an important moment in Beechworth’s history and just so happens to be held over the Easter long weekend, when I tend to visit the parents. It means crowds, even more tourists than normal, people doing odd things on the road and general mayhem. It also means I avoid it like the plague when I’m up here, except for one year when I actually went to the parade, purely so I could take some photos (some of which you can see here).
My mum said it best as we were driving past the chaos on the way to my parents’ house (which is thankfully on the very edge of town). She turned to my dad and said: “Why were we born without the gene that makes people want to go to things like that?”
It’s not that I don’t like going to interesting events; I just prefer it if fifty million other people aren’t there, too. Continue reading