Already this year has been off to a cracking start, with the consumption of more live music and festive revelry than perhaps was necessary (judging by the time it took me to recover). I camped at a festival near Perth during the first weekend of 2013, and danced my little heart out to the likes of Beach House, Flume, Flaming Lips, Hot Chip and SBTRKT. All were revelatory. Over there, I stayed with one of my oldest friends (she and I were tiny room mates in our first term at boarding school) and felt so lucky to catch up with her for almost a week in her new home. Upon returning my family’s farm in Northern NSW, it took a few days to get over all the merriment and fun. But more fun came quickly, with a visit from some lovely friends who drove up from Sydney.
We had the most beautiful weekend roaming around the property, cooking up big breakfasts, and seeing the sights in my local home town. I will save the details for another post – for now I just want to share some photos that I took yesterday with my friend Kelly amongst some of the giant granite boulders we have in the paddocks here. We fashioned little floral crowns a few days earlier using wildflowers collected near the property, and wore them all weekend. They added just the right amount of whimsy to an already delightful time shared. Kell is a wonderful photographer by trade, and these aren’t a patch on hers, but I thought they evoked the mood of this lovely little afternoon quite nicely. Already, I’m very fond of this memory.
Taking these jump shots were a hoot and a thrill! Not so easily orchestrated when said jumping is off a rock, but the cows seemed amused by our attempts.
Whoa. Nothing like a New Year to jolt you to your senses. I had all intentions of starting this blog as a place to share things. To create a destination for my musings to go once they assembled in my brain, and to serve as a reminder: to capture the moments I thought worth holding on to. I even drafted a few posts of the sort. But then I acknowledged my reality – that I was going through a transitional phase of life, one that didn’t particularly inspire much sharing of anything, and all of that aspirational stuff got left by the wayside. Twenty-twelve was long, but at the same time managed to disappear in the blurry blink of an eye. Over its course, I felt challenged, inspired, disappointed and emotionally exhausted, but above all, miraculously, I felt rewarded. It was the year I turned a fledgling daydream into an actuality and decided to study floristry – something I always thought I would save for a later, distant, retiree lifestyle (though what exactly I thought I was going to be retiring from, I have no idea!). It was one of the most illuminating, gratifying decisions I have ever made, and it opened up innumerable avenues of creativity and inspiration at the time I needed it most.
Following the internet happenings of people more infinitely talented than I knew or imagined possible (via blogs, flickr and instagram feeds), I began to realise what a purposeful and powerful place this online community could be. I followed florists, textile designers, and more florists from Brooklyn, flower growers nearby Seattle, graphic designers in LA, photographers from Portland (along with their beautiful florist girlfriends), and photographers in Charleston, along with a myriad of other far-flung creatives around the globe. Recognition eventually set in: I was yearning for The American Dream. Or at least my version of it. A big break of sorts, and an adventure to boot.
Brisbane has been a very good to me – it’s hard to imagine a city easier to live in. The weather is warm, the people welcoming, and I am limitlessly thankful for the genuine and kind friends I have made in my two years there. I’ve experienced some enormous highs – though naturally with them, some lows too – and as much as I consider many things worth staying for, I’m feeling ready for a change of scene. Last year was a little rough around the edges, but boy did I learn a lot, and for that I am inexpressibly grateful. I look forward to overcoming further hurdles in the year to come, and to making the most of my time left in Brisbane, as I know I will miss it once I’m gone. There are giggles to be had, dinners to be dined upon, new friends to make, old friendships to grow, and I’m anticipating it all with an ecstatic fervour.
So to a fruitful 2013! One of productivity, connectivity, and daring risks taken. To furthering these plans of mine* that have been in incubation for almost one year already. I do believe it’s time to put them in action!
(And who knows, perhaps I will even do a bit of this blogging stuff… Fingers crossed, fingers crossed.)
* I know I am being vague – more on that to come later.
Well hey there. Welcome to the inaugural post of The Wanderers’ Society.
Being the first one, you could say there is a certain pressure riding on this to be good. To be profound. To say something really worthwhile. That is precisely the kind of pressure that would deter me from ever writing the damn thing, so let’s just pick an auspicious date (it is the eve of my 23rd birthday) and make this short and sweet.
This is an ode to the adventurous spirit. To bends in the path and forks in the road. Uphill scrambles and downhill gambols. To bolting to a halt when that waft of jasmine hits your nostrils in the night, looking up, finding your mark, and retracing your steps to inhale that sledgehammering scent.
And to where all good wanders begin: the homeland. Excusing the sub-par photograph, this is it.