"Why get families outdoors? Quite simply, nature is good for us... Family ties are strengthened, a sense of community is nourished, and a sense of place is cultivated. All in all, nature is good for children and their friends and family, too!"

Nature Clubs for Families Tool Kit, Children and Nature Network

Like many Aussies, I made the most of a spate of mid-autumn public holidays by taking three days annual leave and getting a block of ten days off in return - high fives all round! The break coincided with school holidays and some extended leave for my husband so we took up a couple of opportunities for low-cost family adventures in regional South Oz. First up was our trip to the river, closely followed by a visit to a family farm in the state's South East.

The SE's Limestone Coast is one of my favourite parts of the state to visit in cooler months with its crisp air, rugged coastlines, pockets of diverse scrubland, expansive agricultural lands and world-class wineries. This affection for the region is also steeped in nostalgia: my father's side of the family descends from the SE town of Naracoorte and there's been plenty of [infamous] road trips over the years to the coastal village of Robe and surrounds with uni, friends and work.  

On the 'gram!

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Take it easy, Claire 

  

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dream / inspire / do

Welcome to the first post of a new regular series on nature // street

 dream / inspire / do 

enchanting visual stories celebrating all things nature, simplicity and play

First up is my most favourite of day-dreams, mountain escapes...

***

Let's run away together,

Away from the city lights,

Where no-one knows our names yet,

And we'll camp out in the open,

Warming cold skin by the fire,

Tell each other hopes and dreams,

And all of our desires,

We'll own nothing more than we need,

Watch sunrises colour the sky...

~ e.h.

autumn adventures

"It seems to me that the natural world is the greatest source of excitement; the greatest source of visual beauty; the greatest source of intellectual interest. It is the greatest source of so much in life that makes life worth living".

David Attenborough, aka The Man

There's something about the change in seasons that resonates with me on a fundamental level: it starts with a deep craving for the change, and follows with excitement and semi-ritualistic basking as the new season announces it's settling in. 

I find the change always brings a kind of a contagious thrill; an invigoration of senses, the welcome return of a suite of simple pleasures, and a promise of new adventures.  

The weekend past delivered on all of the above - heralding our first cool, wet weekend of Autumn after a summer of extreme heat. Those few days, although somewhat burdened by fatigue and responsibilities, were full of small celebrations brought about by the much-awaited physical arrival of the new season.

Friday night brought us a crisp clear night with the neighbourhood's first wood fires tantalizingly drifting smoke on the wind. Ordinarily the kids would go to bed after a later dinner but instead we excitedly donned trackies and jumpers to explore the garden after a few days absence. The kids seemed to pick up on the changes in the air, eagerly investigating the vegie patch, bouncing on the trampoline, and finally lying back on the lawn to yell goodnight to the moon and single star in the emerging night sky.

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default mode: hustle

"once she stopped rushing through life, she was amazed how 

much more life she had time for"

                                                                                                              Unknown

The summer past was definitely a game changer. It marked the end of a year distinguished by rolling sets of challenges: where I'd give my all to reach the crest, snatch a glimpse of the horizon, and have the next set on top of me again. Keep going, keep going, push through I'd think. You're resilient, you work best on adrenalin, you can run on a staple diet of double-shot flat whites and no sleep [btw: you've got no choice here anyway!]. 

Of course it wasn't sustainable. During a few weeks off over the summer holidays I realised I was burnt out. I felt tired and old beyond my years, unfulfilled in spite of all the great things in my life, and unsure of how to properly relax in the limited windows of time I'd get to do so. 

As I was processing this burnout, I experienced a moment that crystalised how much I was caught in the pace of modern living. It was down at our local beach one day: my dad, daughter and I had been kayaking as part of my effort to start to slow down and get active outdoors again. 

As we prepared to make our way home, I was given responsibility for looking after the kayaks and our belongings while Dad went to collect the car.

RIP Rover

Hurrah! It's been another slow Saturday to soothe the soul.

It's been a hectic week again, characterised by changes in the air, a toddler with a recurrent bout of bronchiolitis (requiring mid-week grommet surgery to be postponed), and ultra busy days at work. By the end of this week, and with only one full night's sleep in three weeks, I'm run down and trying to stave of a head cold. 

Thankfully this morning saw the dawn of a long weekend here, and I was granted a rare sleep in with the toddler - who had attempted to rise at 4.30 a.m. but eventually surrendered to come and snuggle in bed for a few more hours.

Despite initial plans to head in to the city to enjoy all Adelaide has to offer in the month of Mad March, we ended up spending a quiet day outdoors at home. The kids helped their Dad with home improvements, and me with the gardening.

Today's gardening was all about vegie patch maintenance. We've had a crazy run of weather over the past summer including a spate of heatwaves of over 40 degrees. In addition to warping trainlines and inducing mental meltdowns, the heat's left the vegie patch having to fend for itself and looking worse for wear at the end of the season. 

I again enlisted my two trusty little helpers and we set about to water, clear dead bean stalks from the teepees, trim and re-stake the tomatoes, and give the compost some TLC. Some of our discoveries included eggplants hiding behind luscious leaves, self-seeded cos lettuce germinating, and lots of bugs doing-their-thing in the compost, showing us some rich soil forming much to the kids' equal disgust and delight. 

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sunflower sagas

I had great aspirations of making a sunflower fort for the kids [ok, and me] over summer, and boy, did I try. This was my romantic notion, thanks to Pinterest:

source: Bring Blessing 

I started off by putting in some serious effort digging a ring-shape into the back lawn. My daughter and I designed it with a front entrance and a secret side exit, then planted the circle out with a mass of giant sunflower seeds. We were SO excited when they started germinating. Only to discover that so were the snails. And Dad's whipper-snipper. 

After a few more attempts at  direct-seeding we switched tactics to grow seedlings for planting out instead. That was all tracking along nicely until the crazy toddler tipped out the seedling trays. Repeatedly. 

Finally we had grown a batch of sunflower seedings which we planted out successfully. They grew! And then I realised, somehow in the midst of going back for repeat packets of sunflower seeds, I'd picked up a spindly knee-high variety instead of the giants. Wahhhhhh. Parental fail.

Even though the fort didn't work out, we did have success with some giant sunflowers in the vegie patch. They looked pretty magical with their plate-sized flowers, and were practical too - providing some shade to other vegies and acting as a natural trellis for our lebanese cucumbers.   

The giant sunflowers have died off now and we pulled them out over the weekend. I enlisted the kids to help harvest the seeds, which we can hopefully use to make the ultimate sunflower fort next year [I've gotta redeem myself!]. The seed harvesting was a really fun activity to do together - the sunflower heads have great patterns and textures, and there's something therapeutic in hanging out on the back lawn picking seeds. Check out the pics below, and my daughter's video, breaking down all things sunflower.      

  

Take care,

Claire

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skinned knees

“nature is imperfectly perfect, filled with loose parts and possibilities, with mud and dust, nettles and sky, transcendent hands-on moments and skinned knees…"

 Richard Louv

Giving my five-year old daughter a bath on the last night of the summer holidays, the two of us suddenly realised her shins were lined with bruises and her knees and arms bore an impressive collection of scabs. We talked about them being evidence of a super fun summer: that stack riding through the parklands with ‘Pops’, kayaking at the beach on Australia Day, swinging from the tree branch out the front.

my daughter kayaking with Pops over summer

A wave of pride and nostalgia caught me – this tanned, spirited little kid instantly took me back to my own childhood and the essence of what seemed like endless summer holidays.

I remembered my own skinned knees and the rough soles of my feet as I raced barefoot along gravel paths on long balmy nights. Afternoons spent climbing high into the old almond trees in the backyard. BMX riding with the neighbourhood kids and that epic stack my sister had when I tried to dinky her up a curb at full speed. The hours spent exploring the local urban creekline, daring ourselves to venture under the bridge and beyond the next bend...

hello and welcome!

nature // street is on an expedition to invite more nature, simplicity and play into modern living. It’s a call to reconnect, explore and celebrate life in the urban jungle:  a fresh view on slowing down, conscious thinking and appreciating the little things in a busy world.

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Claire