Happiness – Treechange life

October 2025: reviews, experiences, and happenings on the farm

Read – The Watervale Ladies’ Writing & Firefighting Society by Mette Menzies

This book has three elements important to me right now – friendships, writing groups and preparing for a potential bush fire. (Let’s hope I don’t have to fight a fire like the resourceful women in this book.)

Four women, with a variety of ages and backgrounds, join a writing group in an Australian country town. They soon find themselves besieged by issues including a land grab by big business and dastardly deeds by crooked lawyers and journalists.

The women are all facing various challenges and life transitions. Soon the pressures lead to friction in the group. Can they find the courage to question and prioritize what’s important in their lives? Will they find forgiveness for themselves and each other?

Importantly, the women are lucky enough to find great food and coffee in the township while they face these other hardships. This is worth celebrating in rural Australia.

The Watervale Ladies’ Writing & Firefighting Society was laugh out loud funny in places, with a romance thrown in.

Watched – Slow Horses (Apple TV)

In the industry, ‘Slow Horses’ is a derogatory name for this team of supposedly failed secret service agents. A team that usually manages to outsmart and embarrass England’s intelligence agency elite.

The show mixes thriller, drama, comedy and black comedy genres.

Jackson Lamb is the team’s boss. He’s both obnoxious and endearing. There’s multiple Reddit threads dedicated to his hilarious one-liners which get better with each new season.

There’s a sneaking mutual respect between Lamb and his team, even though he constantly belittles them. Many of the Slow Horses show symptoms of unprocessed trauma. A feature of the show is how they support each other through professional and personal challenges.

Live – Take me to the river

The river bank is still scarred and eroded, still littered with fallen trees and debris in places. Our community is still struggling to recover from the 1-in-500 year flood we suffered earlier this year.

This made the Take me to the River cultural riverside walk with a local historian and Aboriginal Elder all the more beneficial.

We learned our region was named by the Governor of the Bank of England who had never been to Australia. The local Aboriginal people refer to our region as ‘the place of the big hollow’ which indicates both the land’s fertility and propensity to flood.

The highlight for me was hearing a very recent Indigenous story. Over 1,000 members of the Aboriginal community came together to perform a dance to heal the land in December 2019. This followed four years of terrible drought, followed by the worst bush fires in Australia’s history.

After hours of traditional music and dancing in the sand, their feet found the fresh water beneath. A flock of yellow-tail black cockatoos soon landed nearby. These prehistoric-looking magnificent birds are considered to signal coming rain. It did rain soon after, and the drought was declared over in February 2020.

October farm happenings

It’s spring, which means lots of seedlings to plant for summer crops. Herbs were one of the first to go in. Charlie, loves helping in the garden.

Over the past four years we’ve planted lots of Australian native plants. We’re now getting to enjoy both the blooms and the bird life they attract.

June 2025 – in review

A month of books, TV, movies, performances, happenings on the farm.

Read – Some Day is Today by Matthew Dicks

Have you noticed I’ve hardly blogged over the past few years? Well, this post is my second in two weeks (not six months). I’m on a roll.

Reading Some Day is Today is the kick up the pants I needed to get writing and put it out there.

If you have a desire to create, there’s no excuse.

Author Matthew Dicks is known as an epic storyteller. He’s nerdy and eccentric, but successful in following his passion. He’s both relatable and inspirational.

Some Day is Today is full of interesting anecdotes about how Matthew overcame challenges. He organised every aspect of his life to achieve his creative and life goals. There’s advice on career choice, decision-making, relationships, and time management right down to minutes taken to unpacking your dishwasher.

Narrated by the author, it’s an easy and engaging listen on Audible or Spotify.

Watched – Murderbot (Apple TV)

A TV adaptation of the science fiction series by Martha Wells (comedy/action/sci-fi).

I’d never read a science fiction book. I asked hubby for a recommendation, as he only ever reads this genre. He suggested Martha Wells’ The Murder Bot Diaries. Immediately engrossed, I marathon-read the entire series. So, I was excited to get into Murderbot when it came out on Apple TV.)

The protagonist, who calls ‘itself’ MurderBot, is a rogue, but benevolent, ‘self-governing’ security unit. A ‘synthetic’. It’s assigned to guard a team of human researchers somewhat naive to the realities of a universe of exploitable resources. Observing its charges, MurderBot grapples to understand human nature with all its messiness, duplicity, desire and emotion. Trouble usually ensues when MurderBot indulges its addiction of sneakily binge-watching its favourite human soapie TV series, Sanctuary Moon. This provides MurderBot with more questionable insight into the nature of humanity.

Light-hearted in bite-sized episodes.

Cinema – The Salt Path

Based on a true story by author Raynor Winn, this movie stars Gillian Anderson and Jason Isaacs.

The couple are beset with challenge and heartache. They’ve lost their home and livelihood, and the husband was diagnosed with a terminal illness. So they set off on a yearlong hike around the wilds of coastal south-west England. Why wouldn’t you?

Bleak and desperate are two words I’d use to describe the first half of this movie. There were a few lighter moments and the cinematography is glorious.

The Salt Path is about bravery, overcoming challenges, and most importantly identifying your life’s priorities. In this case – relationships and a connection with nature.

The movie was ultimately life-affirming and reignited my bucket list desire for a long hiking holiday. An unexpected theme about sustainable living also came through, which of course I completely related to.

Live show – Tales from the Climate Era

When I lived in Sydney, going to the Belvoir Street Theatre was a treat, so when this theatre company visited my new country hometown, I had to go.

The traveling production Tales of the Climate Era was a series of skits about climate change. How companies, governments, communities and individuals are grappling to understand. Asking questions – is it real? Should we do something? If it is real, when would it be over?

It could be described as confronting, however, I found it no darker than my already swirling thoughts.

I realised how confused I am about the whole issue, so I’ve enrolled in a short university course to hear directly from experts in the field. Hopefully I’ll come away with more answers than questions.

June farm happenings

We harvested a huge crop of purple sweet potatoes. (Well hubby did. It involves rooting around in the soil with your hands, and there’s earthworms the size of boa-constrictors in that garden bed. They creep me out.)

Please, urgently send your best recipes for these purple beauties. I’m learning to make purple pie crusts and gnocchi.

Our region suffered a devastating flood, where people died and thousands of animals were killed. This has been a terrible event. I’ll write about it when I’ve come to terms with it.

We celebrated the Winter Solstice, a turning point for life on the land.

We’re nurturing our first batch of koala habitat trees. Part of our long-term aim to give back to Mother Nature. More koala news to follow.

Celebrating Nature’s Dates and Lunar Cycles

The sun will arise later this morning than it will any other day of the year.

But not yet. Only a few streaks of orange are colouring the early sky.

It’s the Winter Solstice in Australia.

Winter may be all cosy fires and hot soup, but I’m not a fan of dark mornings and early evenings. Today, in the Southern Hemisphere, we’re now tilted furthest from the sun. From today, even though the daily temperatures will continue to fall, at least the sun will shine for a little longer each day. We’re starting our tilt back towards summer.

Another year has passed.

I acknowledge the Winter Solstice like others celebrate New Year’s Day. For me, it’s a time to plan for the coming year. Today, I’ll prepare some of the garden beds, ready for the planting. Other beds are already flourishing with winter crops now well established.

Rows of garden beds ready for winter planting with sunrise in the background — Garden beds ready for winter planting

I’m more connected to nature’s sequence – the Solstices, Equinoxes, and lunar cycles – than dates on the calendar. Not everyone is, of course. I once worked for an accountant, and for him, New Year’s Day was 1st July. The first day of the financial year in Australia. Anthony the Accountant celebrated with a day off and a new financial year diary.

For me, the full moon is more noteworthy than noticing in my diary it’s the first day of the next month. It does help to live away from the night lights of the city.

Bright white moon in a dark sky with light glare and tree silhouettes. — Full moons shine bright in dark country skies

Some witchy woo-woo types align with the monthly moon cycles and consider the new moon the start of each month. As the new moon waxes and builds in power, it’s a time to start new projects and take new directions. After the full moon, as the moon wanes and falls away, it’s a time to let go of things that don’t serve us well. I don’t know if there’s any truth to this lunar energy theory, but it seems like a way to live mindfully.

Does the full moon hold a special power for setting intentions, and does it affect us by drawing the water in our bodies as it draws the tides in the ocean? I don’t know.

I do know, however, the bright light of the full moon makes it harder to sleep. I understand how earth-centered and ancient cultures might have sat up for hours by a full moon campfire, or danced around it.

To bathe in the light of the full moon is invigorating. The light feels cool, clear, cleansing and powerful. Last month, I sat in a steaming outdoor hot tub with light from a full moon illuminating me. It was a time for reflection and appreciation.

A women's face in near darkness, illuminated by moonlight. — Bathing in moonlight

One lunar ritual I do ascribe to is putting my bowl of crystals beneath the full moon for an energetic cleansing. (I also rinse the dust off them at the same time, which is possibly the real cleansing they receive.) I don’t really believe the crystals hold any special powers beyond being a pretty collection I’ve built over time, but this ritual acknowledges time passing and the trinkets from Mother Earth.

A bowl of crystals and shells to be placed under a full moon for energetic cleansing. — Crystals and shells – trinkets from Mother Earth

Did you pause to notice the Winter Solstice this year, or the Summer one if you’re in the Northern Hemisphere? Or are you more attuned to the passing of the days and months in your calendar, like Anthony the Accountant?

The perfect break – finding a holiday that ticks those most important boxes

It’s February and holiday season is over. Are you planning your next holiday?

Years ago, at a holiday destination in Fiji, Hubby and I met a couple who had spent their annual holiday at the same resort … for the past 18 years. I judged them – privately of course – for what I perceived to be their lack of curiosity, the missed opportunities for adventure and personal growth.

But people need to choose their own adventure, or seeming lack thereof.

My aunty is planning a holiday to Rwanda to see the gorillas. What amazing memories she’ll make.

I have a bestie whose holidays usually involve long trips by road, train or plane, with tightly scheduled itineraries, to visit historical and cultural sites.

Neither of these two types of holidays call to me at this stage of my life.

Vehicles parked on the beach with surf in the background. — A group of friends waiting for sunrise

For me, holidays are precious. There’s never enough time or money available in this short life to spend on a holiday that doesn’t meet my needs. And since we’ve moved to the country, it’s harder to get away in summer, when there’s endless watering, mowing and weeding.

We’ve just come back from a week’s break, camping at the beach. In summer. Last week, as I lay on our holiday beach 200kms away, I knew the grass was growing under our house-sitter’s feet.

Now we’re back and we’ll have to mow for two days, but the holiday was worth it. It ticked all the necessary boxes for me right now.

Group of seagulls on the beach with sunset behind them.

When I lived in a city, months would pass without my stepping on sand or grass, without seeing a sunrise or sunset. I needed trees, streams, rocky escarpments and gorgeous gorges. Remote hiking in Australia’s Top End? Tick.

Much earlier in my life, before kids, when I was establishing my own business, I worked 16hrs a day. I was completely focussed on my client’s needs and making the next mortgage payment. I popped Ibuprofen for headaches and alcohol for insomnia. I was vaguely aware my mind inhabited a body which moved me between client meetings, a body I was neglecting. After visiting a health farm, for detox and deep-tissue massage, I returned, more a human being and less a human doing. Tick.

Vehicles parked on the beach near the tide line.

When the kids were younger, each day was rushing between before/after-school care and work. Packing lunches, cooking healthy meals, weekends of shopping and house-chores. I needed a break with domestic assistance. Buffet meals, housekeeping and kids’ activities every day and evening. Yes.

Now I live on a rural property and work mostly from home. Aside from the bird calls and an occasional koala growl, it’s quiet. Most of my human interactions are via Teams meetings. I crave friendships, laughter, conversations, connection with others.

Our beach camping break with good friends was perfect. I lounged in the sun with sand between my toes. Each day started with coffee on the rocks, watching the surf and sunrise. Each day finished with a communal cook-up. We laughed from sun-up till sun-down.

Coffee cup in the foreground with the ocean waves behind.

Camped away from the city lights, one night we were lucky enough to see the Planetary Parade. Mars, Jupiter, Saturn and Venus all clear against a crisp indigo canvas. Then the dark night fell completely and lights from thousands of stars sparkled to life as we all gazed upward.

Vehicles parked in a campground at night with a single star in the sky. — Watching the planetary parade – Venus just visible at the top

Returning from one holiday I’m always planning the next. This break was just what I needed. My next holiday may well be the same again. And again. It’s ticking those most important boxes for me right now.

Drop in for Chaos, oh, I mean Christmas

Our friends and family are invited to call in any time, any day, this year.

We are not doing a Christmas Day. Instead, multiple days of feasting, fun, games, swimming and day trips exploring.

It’s Choose our Own Adventure.

I’m not responsible. No-one is. We all are. Each day will roll like the dice on our board games.

Family cat playing with Monopoly board game money — Charlie playing Monopoly

At a time when the most family members are present, we’ll open our presents. This year is one present each from Secret Santa.

We’ve been on a mission to simplify Christmas for nearly two decades.

For about ten years we had family camping trips. Our small family group of vans and tents clustered in a beach-side caravan park.

On the day we arrived and set up, we were all as busy as elves. Then, we enjoyed a week of relaxation.

Christmas feasting was limited to what could be kept fresh in small camping fridges or cold on ice.

The kids got presents including pushbikes and ‘walky talky’ two-way radios. They spent days running about with newfound camping friends. Over the years, we got to know other repeat Chrissy Campers at the caravan park.

Motorhome in a caravan park — Family camping

Then, the years flew by like a red nose on Christmas Eve. Grandparents sold their vans. Families formed step-families, and kids needed to share Christmas Day with both sets of parents. We moved on, simplifying camping to a morning picnic.

Chrissy breakfast at the beach followed by a swim. Afterwards, everyone was free for lunches and dinners with extended families. Or, by 11am, head off on holidays. Jump into the car when most people were jumping into other Christmas traditions. Get well ahead of the holiday traffic.

Our Christmas picnics usually had a theme, most memorably, 1970s Finger Food. Who agrees food on a toothpick just tastes better?

Circular bread cut-outs topped with slices of tomato and basil held together with a toothpick. — credit Abdulgarfur Ogel (Pexels)

After moving to the country, the new Christmas tradition is to celebrate at our place. It’s hot and the property and animals need us at this time of year. But the family loves visiting from the city, enjoying space, the pool, and quiet starry nights.

Girl aiming at a target with a bow and arrow during a family Christmas activity — Target archery at our place

The kids are older now. The pressure of step-families has been replaced by the pressure of juggling time between us and their partner’s family.

After 20yrs of us simplifying Christmas, there’s still time pressure.

So, this year, it’s Christmas Day/s. Call in any time. Stay as long as you like.

Three family members doing craft at a table — Family craft

There’s a draft menu for four-days. We’ll all be cooking together. All hands on deck to Deck the Halls. And low stress preparation in the days beforehand.

The days may be chaos, but it will be jolly chaos.

Merry Christmas to all the many and varied families!

Meeting the new house

I knew immediately I needed to slow down. Slow down to meet the house on its own vibration. Bringing my big-city buzz through the door would stop me connecting with this quiet, tired cottage that has nestled here amongst established eucalypts for forty years.

Driving those few hours to our new property, to finally move in, I was anxious to check the reality of my new home and country life against the preconceptions I’d developed. Will I feel safe in the country? Will I miss city cafes, bootcamps, walking to the shops and other conveniences? Will I be overwhelmed by the renovations required and the reality of looking after country acres? Will I still love this house or will this all be a terrible mistake?

I’d thought of various ways to introduce myself to our new home with more ceremony than simply walking through the door. I could light a sage smudge stick and waft pungent cleansing smoke through the rooms and into every corner, clearing old energy to make way for new beginnings. I could rub some soil from the bank of the dam under my armpits and sprinkling it into the water, to announce my arrival. (An idea inspired by ABC TV’s Back to Nature, https://www.screenaustralia.gov.au/the-screen-guide/t/back-to-nature-2021/39240/ ) I could say hello to the spirits of the traditional owners and let them know my intention is to care for land and wildlife, to be respectful.

I drive along those final few undulating kilometres of gravel road, skirting the national park, threading between huge gum trees in an area listed as critical koala habitat. As I round the last bend and glimpse the rusty A-frame roof and views down the valley, the house greets me like a sigh of relief. I know this is where I’m meant to be.

I also know my convoluted plans to announce my arrival are not necessary. My smudge stick will stay in my suitcase, the soil at the dam, the traditional owners undisturbed.

This cottage, on its ten acres, has witnessed floods, drought, and the terrible bushfires of 2019-2020 when almost the entire East Coast of Australia was on fire. Who am I to land here from the big city with my big ideas, to come in as the new owner and start pushing things around? I’ll move slowly, get to know the land over time. The patterns, the seasons. I have much to learn.

Getting to know the property began simply that first day. Cleaning. My husband and I rolled up the ancient, filthy carpet and scrubbed the concrete slab beneath. I started cleaning high inside the house and worked my way lower. Vacuuming what I could reach of the vaulted ceiling, squeegee mopping the walls, then the windows and floors.

We unpacked the sound system and learned of the beautiful acoustics provided by the solid walls and soaring ceilings.

My husband had arrived at our new home yesterday, while I packed up the last of our city belongings. I asked him how he’d slept last night on a mattress on the floor. He hadn’t slept well. Kept awake by rustlings in the cupboards, scurryings in the attic, and scamperings along the gutters and over the corrugated iron roof. I was glad our furniture had been delivered. Although the bed was one of the few items unpacked, at least tonight we will be sleeping up off the floor. After vacuuming droppings from cupboards and corners today, I knew we were not the only occupants of the house.

Exhausted we flopped onto the bed. So far there’s no scamperings or scurryings. We chat about how different the night sounds in the country. No sirens. No drunk people stumbling home from the pub, post COVID lockdown. There’s no hoons in loud cars. No neighbours dragging their Thursday night bins out.

So what can we hear? Frogs. An owl. Crickets. Our heartbeats. And nothing at all.

Time to treechange

A treechange is what I’ve wanted for twenty years. I’m now plagued by doubts, but it’s too late to go back.

The last of the furniture was carted away by removalists earlier this morning. All that’s left is a scatter of half-used cleaning products in the centre of the loungeroom. After hours of wiping and scrubbing, the house glows with love and care, ready for tomorrow when the new owners take possession.

My husband has gone on ahead with the removalists to our new property, a few hours away in the country. I’m here alone, except for the cat, Charlie, who anxiously follows me from room to room.

I drag the old single mattress which sags in the centre to the bedroom wall, where this morning our king-size ensemble was located. The removalists have accidentally taken the vacuum-packed sheets and doona, so I’ll be sleeping on the bare mattress in my clothes with my bathrobe over the top to try and stay warm.

This is my last night in what has been our home in the city for ten years. It’s also the last night where meals can be home delivered, so I treat myself ordering Chinese online.

No longer filled with our furniture, paintings, books, and belongings, the house already feels less ours. Yet I’m still here, clinging to this out-dated version of what home is.

What will be our new home is not, as yet, a home. I barely remember it as our only inspection was more than three months ago. I’m a little scared of the house – I recall dust, musty and perhaps mousy smells, spider webs, filthy carpets, imposingly towering raked ceilings, and … ‘good bones’, ‘potential’.

I imagine the new house sitting silently awaiting me, windows murky, accessible via dirt road and far from the lights, sirens, and city busyness I’m accustomed to.

And this is the reason I’m here alone tonight.

Today I exaggerated the need to stay and further tidy up our city home, ready for our purchasers. Secretly, I wanted my husband to go before me to tame the spectre of the new country house, and the wild unknown I’ve built it up in my mind to be.

‘Will you be scared, staying in the new house by yourself?’ I’d asked my husband this morning.

‘Hah, don’t be silly.’

I text him now, ‘How’s it going?’

He replies: ‘It’s raining and the lights are off. I’m standing, walking, looking, listening and learning.’

I picture this, him becoming aquainted with our new house. His senses stretching as an aura around him in the dark. Alert to each sound. The creaks and groans as the house settles for the night.

Will our new house nurture, support and inspire us? Will I come to love it? Will it become a home?

Tomorrow, the house and I will be introduced as my husband will have already been there twenty-four hours. He’ll have some observations and stories to share.

My Chinese meal arrives, and I settle on the mattress, the cat purring and curled against my leg. Just for five minutes I cling to the normality and stability this home has provided.

I’m apprehensive moving to a community where we know no-one, to look after a patch of land we know nothing about. To a country house beyond the reach of town water and sewer services. What has been a long- held dream is now very real.

I wonder if my husband has completed a circuit of the building, explored outside as well as every room? Does he hear the rain on the roof flowing into the water tank, or are the gutters choked with leaves and overflowing – the first indication of a house more neglected than we’d anticipated. There’s so much for this house to reveal.

How’s my husband feeling there alone? Does he hold fears? Overwhelm? Regrets?

Then another text arrives from him.

‘I think we are going to fill this house very well,’ he says.

And my oppressive blanket of uncertainty immediately feels lighter. After an evening of second guessing our treechange decision, I’m again looking forward to our adventure together, which for me, starts tomorrow when Charlie and I drive to our new country home.