We landed back in Oz and everything seemed so startlingly different, yet similar to where we had been. The beauty surrounding us was so familiar and warming. We arrived at a resting place before we could move back into our house. This place was incredible. We arrived late at night and the frogs sang as we made our way up the long dirt drive under the gums in the pitch black.
Next morning the birdsong was oh-so-different to what we had been hearing but so deeply familiar and comforting. Magpies, cockatoos, galahs, rosellas. The cockatoos flying overhead. Almost too cliche to be true. I stepped outside, that first morn, to find a large huntsman spider onthe outdoor table. Ha, ha. We're back.
A day later the tumble into sickness began. All of us. It kept us low for a few weeks.
We filled these couple of weeks with visits from friends and family, walking in the bush (enojoying the shower of butterflies that arose everytime), riding horses, playing in a new paddling pool, crafting and making it feel a little like Christmas.
Sadly Dada went straight back at work. They were a quiet few weeks but that's just what was called for.
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