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Home is other people

As the world changes, we're all feeling the complacency of "how it's always been done" slip away.

Home is other people
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Something started here.

It's Friday morning and I'm in a vast basement space with five women I've never met before. Music spills through the speakers and we close our eyes and move together. "Think about a moment when motherhood was really hard" we are instructed

Something started here.
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Why I stopped writing

Fairly often, people I know ask me if I'm still writing. I tend to deflect the question for the most part. Depending on who I'm talking to, and how robust I'm feeling, I might laugh it off - oh, family life killed my creative dreams,

Why I stopped writing
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Crisis and chaos

On the walk down to the river, I tread slowly on the powdery red dirt of the path. In the scrub on the side of the track the oak leaves are already turning crisp and brown. Too early. It's a stress response to the ongoing drought. I'

Crisis and chaos
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Feeding the soil

We're baking this week. Or rather, we are being baked. The online weather oracles I'm consulting with fevered devotion tell me the temperatures will tip 40°C today (that's 104°F).   It's properly hot. This kind of summer feels more akin to

Feeding the soil