Why we love the beach.

We love the beach. I mean this collectively as a family, as a culture, as a species. 

It is always special, magical and deeply restorative. I remember going on all those great holidays as a child often from way out in Western Queensland. We'd be sleeping all over the Holden station wagon, distributed across the front bench seat to the boot beside the basket with the baby/ies in it. Then the car would come over the last rise and the first call would break the restless boredom. 

"I can see the sea!" Mine still say it. I make them. It is the first tick in the box of nostalgic balm.

There are other important elements in this perfect holiday.

The cousins. 

They mooch and roll and bury each other and argue and laugh and throw sand and play footy on the same beach my cousins and siblings played on.

The Dad. 

It used to take my Dad a good week to wind down till he could really relax. This one is the same. They can't garden, tinker, work, build or mow. They walk. They sleep. They cook. It is good.

The sea.

We live in a part of the world that some old dears that you meet at posh functions call God's own country. The water is glassy clear and perfectly flat on one beach and waves on the other. There are fish and critters and birds. There was a python in a tree for the whole two weeks we were there. There are noisy gangs of rainbow lorikeets. One year there were dolphins out the front.

The childerbeasts go swimming in mid-winter and bask on the sand sheltered from the wind to dry off. They only do this with cousins to egg them on. Cousins are good that way.

 Games.

We play games that only the girls play at home. It may be the relaxed atmosphere or the different team members. The absence of laptops and internet may have something to do with it. Bananagram, Bingo and cards played on a sheet or blanket. The glass table got the gong from all involved as it was too cold and hard to snatch cards up from.

Playing two pack cheaters' Hawaii

Bananagrams

 Sand.

We like to bury ourselves in it, get it in eyes and mouth and nostrils, make it squeak when we kick it and put in in our brothers' beds as not so hilarious prank. It is  throughout the house and gets brushed off the feet at bed time and out of the sheets before you snuggle down to listen to the surf through the open windows.

 Fishing.

This gets bigger every year as do the fish. The big fella and the uncle indulge the fishing needs. We throw every thing back but we draw the line at kissing fish. They can go on their own now, untangle snags, bait up hooks. One boy fished from 7 am till 10.30 pm the last day over several locations. Boys are nice when they fish. There is no u tube on a fishing line.

 Pictures.

Every thing is a picture. Every moment seems marvellous. 

Even the rocks are photogenic. 

Books.

I got through three of them up there but didn't quite finish this one which I have read snippets from over the last nine years. It is the beach house book of choice. This time I tried to read it cover to cover. That's a good sea faring name if I ever saw one.

Sunset, moon rise, tide change, sunrise.

These happen at home but we rarely see them. We are sleeping or ferrying people between orthodontists and soccer and last minute grocery runs. It's good to just sit and look at it and soak it up slowly.

Fish'n'chips.

They always taste better at the beach- on the beach. Always.

 Lying down. 

I don't do this enough at home. I certainly don't lie down in the middle of a walk through the shops or into work or over to the neighbours. For some reason it is acceptable on the beach to just stop, sit and then lie down to doze off if you wish. I like that.

 Rock pools.

Abundant, treasure troves of goodies, they never disappoint. The big boys were still as entranced by dead wobbygongs, sluggy things spurting purple ink, starfish, urchins and crabs as they were the first time they found a dead inflated puffer fish- every day for a week. It was quite whiffy by the end.

 Offspring.

They are happy, free, unburdened by homework and uniforms and getting up early. They run and roll and generally behave like joyful, exuberant kids are meant to. 

No wonder it never gets old. Sorry this was a long one if anyone is even still out there. These are the days worth recording and savouring- like old forgotten questionable wine from your brother's kitchen cupboard. We relive our memories and they make new ones with us in blues and sandy yellows and it is always good.

Things to Like about School Holidays- Part 2

Oh, yes! There are more and they are not the usual going to a theme park in California or relaxing at a local idyllic tropical resort type ones. Do you think we would bump into Angelina and her crew there? Would we be able to exchange anecdotes about having twins and large families and breastage issues? So much in common we have and yet, so very little!

Meanwhile back in the real world...

Things to Like about School Holidays- Part 2

12. Recruiting chillun to help with boring time consuming tasks like painting the boys' chest of drawers. Last time I stained and estapolled this beast, the twins were on the verge of being born and it was no mean feat. This time they can contribute more than a huge bump. Many hands and all that. Using spray cans made it infinitely more appealing to them!

13. Playing the family "bored" game of my childhood that I loved whether they like it or not!

14. Finishing the book that I read to myself for myself at 1 a.m. and sleeping in next day.

15. Getting to Ikea for what may only be an annual pilgrimage now. There may have been a few small purchases including a stool for $15 which I almost paid $30 for at Matt Blatt the day before. You have to love the big IK!
Even the dolls house was Ikea-ed. How cute is this stuff?

16. Having sons build flat pack furniture for me. This is the new Lego for our family - cheaper, more functional and less agonising to stand on. There is a lot to be said for breeding your own small sweat shop.

17. Going to the hospital for all those annoying visits and not having my pay docked for the pleasure. This is a grey zone as I find it highly stressful and not a happy place. Adrenalin starts pumping and my flight/ fright impulse soars to alarming levels. I usually get teary as I start to speak to the Doctor. It's all just a series of triggers and post traumatic shock they tell me. All I really need is a good haircut and a massage! Trigger that. They should be on this list too but I never got there.

18. Watching movies with my whole brood that they loved when they were very small and introducing the youngest to the same. They actually sat through the whole thing and loved it. One even said he loved that music when he was small. It had been thrown out with the video player so its all fresh again.

19. The beach- rocks, kids and dog, perfect weather and a tiny bay. That's always a winner.

20. Catching up with some precious old friends and family. Lingering over tea with them and not having to rush to the next place.

21. Culling and tidying drawers of chillun wear. Minimise, minimise, minimise...
There was even time for a little wanton vignetting!

22. Watch other half finishing off the front deck with some painting, guttering and Japanese style rain drains instead of downpipes. I'm looking forward to the next big storm to watch them weave their magic.

23. Making it up as we go day by day without a set routine. Love it!

There are about twenty things left to do and one day of holidays left to do them in. We'll see how it goes.

Reach for the sky

*Sorry for being so sporadic in commenting and visiting lately. I have been unable to access lots of your sites due to technical difficulties but hope to be over that soon. 

Return of the Rhythm

Every year we go to a special place. We only go there once a year but we all look forward to it as a touchstone, a yardstick by which we are can measure our lives as this little family grows up.

One year I felt very queazy while I was there. The next year we had a small pink bundle who was carried in a pouch to all the special places we have accumulated in out joint family memory. One of these was always the thong fence out the front which has been commemorated in the house with this wonderful photo. The thong fence was washed away this year but the picture is still there.

The rock pools have been explored in great detail for years, since this one was younger than Shorty. Every year we revisit the pools where they carved their names the first year they could all write and build towers out of rocks and we reminisce about the year we found the huge (dead) inflated puffer fish that drifted in the pools all week.

                 

I repeatedly take photos of the rocks, the patterns carved by the water and sand and give the bare feet a good work out in the sand. The patterns barely change but every year our family is profoundly different in some way, be it small or enormous. 

We make castles, they swim, we stare at the ocean...we stop. Stopping is the most important part, the part that makes it so sublime.
We stop all play dates, school, work, kindy, soccer training, rugby training, music lessons, rehearsals, homework and, best of all, packed lunches.

Last year it was hard to stop. I had to come back at the start of our special week for chemo. There was a  beanie on instead of the sea breeze combing my hair. A lot of the favourite haunts were inaccessible to me so none of us went there. It was rainy, I was sick and we were all very fragile.

We stopped, as always, but in a different way to regroup and feel there was some constant in life.

This year was for me the best year there ever. 
We spent time with the dearest of friends and family, got to retouch all the old favourite haunts I was too sick to get to last year and felt rested and calm and happy. Everything was back to "normal". We all felt it. Even the weather was ridiculously beautiful for Winter. Last year it sympathetically rained almost the whole week. This year we basked in the gentle sun and the light of the Supermoon. If there was ever a sign that life goes on, there it was.

Me photographed by Boy 2. Nice one, son.

Winter Wonderland

So we had a day of rain this week.

There may have been a few days last week.

In the big picture though we have to be very content with this version of Winter.

A little snow would be nice from time to time but there are always planes for that.

What I love about a winter holiday at the beach in Queensland:

1. Children sleep in with the late morning light and go straight to the beach.

2. Children stay on the beach all day where they can swim and sunbathe and play without frying like pork crackling under a tropical sun.

3. Yes, they can swim- even longer with a spring wet suit which is half price because it is pretend Winter.

4. Long, golden afternoon shadows on almost empty beaches.

4. Easy dinners of stew and fish curry and, that family stalwart, spag bog, because it is cold and they are ravenous and there are beaten up old pots in the holiday house which are nice to cook in.

5. Children go to bed early as they have been on the beach ALL day and it gets dark early. Blissful quiet nights for parents.

The song we danced to at our wedding was Moon River- Andy Williams, of course.

Give me a warm winter night at the beach any day over a sweltering sweaty summer one with mozzies and humidity and sunburn. It must be the Danish blood in me acting up.

Why I'm not going anywhere just yet.

Big, wild skies.

Small people in the flotsam.

                                                     Disipating storms, a fine balance.

Light

Colour

Wind on salty skin.

Small people.

On the Rocks

Still pondering on the beauty of that week at the beach, I found some more photos that might bear doing a bit of work with. 

Our lot favours the coast north of Brisbane for many reasons, some sentimental and some aesthetic. 

One of the characteristics of the beaches there is the large expanses of coffee rock deposited by volcanic activity some gazillion years ago. It is marvelous stuff, providing rock pools, bridges, caves and waterfalls to intrigue and occupy children (and adults) for hours. That has probably gone on for a million years or so too.

One of the interesting properties of coffee rock is that, being quite porous, it breaks down easily and can be carved and eroded into myriad different forms.

It seems to have deposited a fine black sand that emerged as the top layers of white sand were washed away in the storms. I remember being on a Greek Island with sand like this. I don't remember which one but it was near a volcano. Anybody?

We discovered that by drawing in the top layers of white sand, the lower layers of black sand showed through like some kind of lovely, natural etching.

While the girls were drawing in the sand, it occurred to me that the sands and tide had produced some rather exquisite drawings without any human assistance whatsoever.

   

Some of these lines would make for delicious drawings on heavily textured paper

and would translate beautifully into black and white ink or charcoal drawings.

They had such a strength and fluidity from the rock and sand.

Only nature could dream up such inspired composition.

I think this is my favourite. It would make a rather striking large canvas.

Just saying.