Tag Archive: wonder

This might seem a little silly but… we’ve 3D printed a fairy door for the garden.

Where my goddaughter and I tackled a jungle of weeds, there is now a bed of flowers and a little stack of logs to provide habitat and nectar for bugs, bees and butterflies in the garden.

A fairy door might seem like a childish thing, but I have believed in things I cannot see for as long as I can remember… I hope I always do that. I hope my goddaughter does too

#innocence #harakore

Advent word: Gather

We gather gifts. We gather together. We are gathered by our gathering, the sharing and the exchange. That’s the part that makes us rich. Gather, share, and be enriched. #gather #hui #adventwords2019

This weekend some friends and I did a hike in Kinglake National Park finishing at Mason Falls. The conversation was as wide ranging as our footsteps, as we were washed by rain and the knowing that the world is beautiful… beautiful.

Whole worlds

Whole worlds becoming
At the tips of her fingers
Weaving sticks and stories
Into a landscape of happening
For who, what, why…?
She delights in her creation
And Creation delights in her

Talitha Fraser

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you know more than you think you do

Maria got PR

maria nheu PR

we weep tears
joy and relief together
sweet and salty
the longed for has come
and, for just a moment,
there is nowhere to be
and nothing to do
but be here with You





“I spent the mornings writing letters in answer to advertisements in the paper; in the afternoons I went for walks round the creek.  I was experiencing a sense of freedom and elation that my failure to find work could not subdue. The renewing of my association with the clean world became almost an identification with tree and bird and sun.  The sharpness of my pleasure in rediscovery was sometimes so intense I could have shouted and flung my arms wide or lain with my face against the earth listening to music only the enchanted hear.

Quartz gravel, dry gum-leaves, bleached twigs and pieces of bark were rich with meaning. The floor of the bush was a narrative poem, the bush an evocation.

Shadow and sunlight, reaching limbs of trees, the rustle of grass, shapes and colours and odours, demanded a complete absorption to uncover the heart of their beauty. I felt I had been imprisoned for a lifetime in a dungeon and now, freed, the revelation of a communicating beauty lying confined in all that I was seeing brought with it a frustrating awareness of my inability to release it so that it would surround men and women for ever. There was an anguish in this unattainable desire, and tear, and a sense of deprivation.

I wanted to proclaim my message, if not in books then by talking.

Sometimes I had attempted, when stirred by the sight of a spider orchid, maybe, or the flight of a bird, to take adults on a fanciful journey of the spirit, in search of a truth beyond what the eye was seeing. It demanded of them an emotional response suggestive of children and this they could rarely give. They associated it with immaturity.

Shielded by books and facts and their belief in accepted authorities, they were incapable of becoming participants in wonder, only kindly and critical observers of those experiencing it. The years of development they had left behind were sprinkled with stars – the sharp lights of remembered experiences. The same experiences in later years never created a light.

What was once a magical experience becomes commonplace with repetition and there comes a time in the lives of most people when the eyes and ears fail to register an unadulterated wonder and excitement, but are used as instruments to revive memories that flicker like a match for a moment and die away.  It had all happened before; it would happen again.  But I knew that each moment contained something unknown, something never experienced before, an enchantment only it could provide.”

Sherbrook Forest


I have walked into the woods, off the muddy, many-feet-trodden path.

It is very windy and the susurrous of the trees carries a muted roar with it. I suppose it could bring branches down yet I am not afraid.

I walked to this place as surely as if I had somehow known to come here.

All that is of the world is left behind. There is only me. And You. And the magic in the woods.

Those I used to play in as a child around Erskine College had this feeling also.  As though anything might Happen.

I cried as I walked to the place where I now sit.

The silence speaks to me and I want to hear it. I wish I could always hear it.