Tag: writing

So Far…

Weird day looming with an equally weird week/month/year/decade sitting palpably on the horizon.

We’ve stated our desire to live a life of service and delight people (preferably from a safe and substantial distance) so often. What does that actually mean though? Well, it seems appropriate to get down in writing what we are doing and what we have done.

This exercise is as much for my own clarity as it is to explain to anyone who is interested in our projects. It is difficult to piece together the vast and varied bits and bobs Damon and I are attempting to breathe life into.

Farm

Our Farm, Matakana Retreat, in 2023.

We have found immeasurable satisfaction seeing the biodiversity thrive at the farm. Food is starting to flood in over every season. Food security, and soil and water health is such a tangible and tactile magic. Our composting queen, Pip B, has been working her magic in building our mostly clay soils into a more arable and friable growing medium with the resulting fruit and veg tasting so incredible.

The farm also has three eco-tourism products that work separately and together. These three sites are helping to pay a small team to supervise and further nurture the farm. We see ourselves as selling privacy and a chance to go off grid and digitally detox. Our amazing guests have given us glorious reviews in return for the favour of 48 hours of radio silence. This is the best feedback and gift for us! One recent guest stayed after having experienced a significant loss and couldn’t thank us enough for this time to process. That’s the magic.

It’s not all a box of roses. There are also many challenges in creating the vision. We are having to realign our driveway and security gate and that goes with insane amounts of red tape and fuckery, but it’s a necessary mountain to climb to secure our autonomy and safety, and the privacy and protection of our guests.

We’ve also nearly completed our first workshop space and wellness room (for guest massages) and we are investigating the viability of a sauna, ice bath (or buckets more likely), and hot tub. All these additions require careful consideration when you are an off grid destination and you need to strongly consider your energy generation options. We’ve learned the hard way from our first hot tub that the energy we take for granted on grid can be the difference between keeping the lights on or not when you are using solar energy.

Heaps more happening, but I don’t care to give more away at this point. Suffice to say we will be carefully guarding the sacredness of privacy and peace for ourselves and our wonderful grateful guests.

We have also expanded our net to include a finishing block that will be developed as a farm forestry and regenerative agriculture project. This block will be developed with swales, resilient water and soil plans, and a fully functioning food forest legacy project. This first 12 months all we will commit to is hosting a small herd of grazing heifers and undertake weed and pest control but the longer term goal is to create a highly functional permaculture paradise. Oh, and with horses! And a range of other four legged friends.

Growing food feels like the most meaningful thing we can do as an act of resistance in a clearly failing system. The farm will be hosting volunteers and enthusiasts soon, and the projects will be helped along with many hands. Finding meaningful and efficient ways of selling and distributing food is a priority as the bounty continues to grow.

Faith

I am a witch. Damon is a neurotic mish mash and failed Buddhist and jazz musician (his words), he’s reasonably good at multi tasking and managing things though which is helpful. The kids (while all incredibly spoilt) are a generally neurospicey mix of rationalism, activism, spiritualism and meme/internet scrolling.

I feel very strongly that faith and spiritualism should provide an anchor and freedom to soar and find community and connection. I love to see people on their paths, and have no desire to steer anyone toward following my witchy ways. But I am also very happy to share knowledge and ideas with anyone who is interested. I am no guru/expert or high priestess. I am just a tired woman who is finding strength and purpose standing in my own power, and learning about vast and varied deities and old gods. My practice is solitary, I have no desire to join or start a coven of any description, but I often find myself surrounded by magical humans and it is welcome when it happens.

We are returning to Bhutan in a few weeks for guidance and calm and to bring my eldest son (who recently graduated University and also turned 21) to experience pooja and learn the magical and mysticism of this kingdom in the clouds, protected by the dragon (druk).

Before we embark on that journey, the annual mom and Jamie birthday adventure will see me and my youngest child winging our way over the Tasman sea and into Australia’s red centre. This is a deeply spiritual journey for him and I as well. Aboriginal knowledge and mysticism is something I do not presume to be able to understand in this lifetime as I navigate my experiences of life in the meat suit of a privileged white woman. My interest and reverence for the ancient and sacred truths protected by and shared among the diverse tribes of aboriginal and Torres straight people gets stronger and deeper with every exposure to Australia. The intensity of this magic is palpable in Uluru.

And I have been called to the path of the solar eclipse in August this year. The totality of that event is only going to be experienced in a sparsely populated trajectory of the earth. Iceland and Greenland are the best places to be so we’ve booked to circumnavigate Iceland in August, and will be on a boat off the South East coast of this island of fire and ice.

None of any of this will happen if the geopolitical uncertainty escalates to the point it is untenable to travel away from the safe haven our Antipodean home.

Family

My daughter lives her very best life as a University student in Wellington. She calls me every day and facetimes every Friday to fit check her costume or outfit for whatever bohemian party or event she’s attending that evening. She has forgiven my bumpy evolution and grave mistakes and character flaws and her and her fabulous friends often talk about me in my absence as iconic and authentic.

The other six kids are all various ages and at various stages of their journeys. We are heading over to Sydney where all seven of the children will have five days to hang out together doing various family and touristic adventures together.

I was not supported or appreciated in my role as a mother in my first marriage. Gaslit and scape-goated yes, supported or respected, absolutely not.

7 years into my new relationship with a supportive and patient partner, I am able to be calm, regulated and present for the kids when they are around.

This is a hard fought and vehemently protected culture of care, consideration, authenticity, and honesty. Shenanigans still pop up and smack talk and manipulation still occur behind our backs occasionally, but building a safe space with clear expectations and boundaries while any or all the kids are in my care is our top priority and, generally, we manage it all pretty well.

Urban Edifice

The Kingston street building manifested itself into our lives a year ago and will be a century old in 2027. While it’s not a historically listed building, it provides one of the few remaining examples of early Auckland in this end of town. We are surrounded by mostly soulless and towering modernist style developments in every direction. But at our wee end of Kingston Street we are fortunate to have 3 original character buildings all lined up.

Inside our midtown building is an ancient witchy elevator and four floors. Every inch of the place is slowly being renovated and upgraded.

We live on the top (third) floor, which is technically the penthouse. The 21 and 17 year old boys live in a two bedroom apartment on the second floor. Next to them is a lovely two bedroom two bathroom apartment which we affectionately call the Resting Witch Place, and where the eldest son and his partner also stay to parent the 17 year old if we are away.

They study, party, and live very happily in this beautiful old building. Its location means we are ideal for hosting their friends who may be stuck in town or need safe place to be for one reason or another.

It is by no means a simple or straightforward situation. Not many people would choose such an unconventional living space. But our kids embrace and understand the vision enough that they are both excited and content most of the time and they love being Centre Ville.

The first floor has recently been cleared as it will become a shared creative space with a studio kitchen, small gym, recording studio, and shared creative workspace.

The ground floor once hosted two restaurants. One of those has become my garage and is being renovated as a speakeasy for friends and family to gather occasionally. I can move my little pink electric Fiat 500e into a nearby car park, and up to a dozen people can comfortably commune for salon style discussions or lounge around listening to records.

The main space will become a third space/event space for magical gatherings. We envision open mic nights and live sing-along-Sunday gatherings. A stage, a bar, a finishing kitchen and enough seating for 50-80 people to gather together for safe and inclusive situations is being discussed and designed.

I hope to find a passionate community minded event manager to fill up the space and lock in and deliver regular events. Mocktail and menopause Monday evenings for example. I have an image of powerful and weary goddesses gathering after work on Monday evenings for fireside style ask anything sessions. These will be facilitated by respected health, wellness and business experts. The doors will open early (like 4pm) and a delightful selection of low and no alcohol beverages and perhaps tapas or cheese boards will be offered.

The food grown on the farm will find its way to the city and people can come to feasts to enjoy the bounty and be among inspiring and safe people for a spell.

The rest of the time the space will be very reasonably priced and available for events and gatherings.

This building will also be the physical headquarters for the Finding Persephone Foundation. That is a whole blog and subject of its own which I might share later.

For now, thanks for reading.

I hope if you have been curious about our direction that this clarifies a bit and piques your interest.

We are going to need an army of passionate and purpose led people to pull this all off.

If you are interested in being a part of any of these projects, please DM me on social media.

Mothers Like No Others

Yesterday was just incredibly unpleasant in Auckland. An epic deluge of rain from another of those atmospheric rivers blew through the city and Northland. 

Leaks in my home wept. This reminded me of the huge amount of work we have ahead of us breathing new life into this nearly century old building. Not many people would be keen to take on such a mammoth task, but we have a great team, and our designers are well across it and good design saves so much cost and confusion down the line.

Relevant colloquialisms = a stitch in time saves nine, an ounce of prevention saves a pound of cure. There’s more, but we have an incredible design and architecture team, flanked by loyal (albeit quirky) building and implementation team. Very blessed and always a little bit stressed at this stage of our evolution. 

I would not trade a single thing about the complete chaos and incredible amount of effort and meaning my life has right now. But fuck me. There’s always a lot going on.

What else went haywire? Oh yes, we were late (a whole 6 minutes) dropping son to school as it was a swamp on the motorway and we also missed our exit.

The scales in the morning tipped in at 77kg which is 20kgs more than I ought to weigh apparently. Pfft. Whatever. 

Just a bit of a clusterfuck all around really.

Yet, somehow it was a lovely, productive, beautiful day. 

We’ve been getting a lot of invites to a lot of things lately. My answer to almost everything is still a big, clear, booming and beautiful NO.

Damon will be going to a couple of things with my son Daniel as he is a grown up now.

So yes, yesterday ought to have been quite awful, yet it absolutely was not.

My beyond doting darling Damon was perfect portions of annoyed and delighted with various projects, implementation and plans. I ran errands successfully and got well over 15k steps and went to Pilates. I hate pilates. I hate all exercise that isn’t walking through the woods/forest/mountains or skiing. But doing stuff I hate makes my amygdala stronger according to my 20 year old geektastic Daniel son.

The most important thing that happened? My friend rang me to tell me she was impressed by my parenting. 

I was at Costco beating the crowds at 10am on a Tuesday to grab cheese and bulk lunchbox snacks. She called, and her tone of earnest triggered the abused/gaslit/neglected Dee I used to be and I thought she was ringing to scold me.

My broken brain, even after 6 years of healing, recovery and unmedicated and unmitigated safety and freedom assumed I was in trouble. 

Here is a screenshot that kinda describes the level of me I get to be since turning my back on most of my life some years ago now:

Today I am me. Me does not give a single fuck what most people think about the me that I am. I don’t talk shit about other people (except my ex and my trashy persona non grata biological disaster zone that were once considered family). There’s not really time to judge other people or be concerned with what anyone else is doing, unless they make me aware or want or need time from me. I will make time for most people if they ask still. But most people do not and that’s cool.

The serious lack of interest in what other people think of or say about me did not seem possible when I was stuck in the glittery but shitty life I used to lead. Old me was addicted to validation, now I crave connection and meaning.

If someone does not like me? Good.

I like me.

TBH, I am a fucking delight.

So… Yeah.

Nope. Not in trouble. She took the time to tell me what a joy it was to see me parent and how great our rapport as mother and son is.

I cannot begin to tell you what that means to someone who was gaslit, abused, and wrongly accused of being a poor parent and crazy person. 

Me 10 years ago could not imagine the safety and balance that comes from practicing the actual zero tolerance for fuckery I am able to maintain through most of my life. It is standard operating procedure to be authentic and imperfect, and I have the bandwidth to engage with the very small number of people (which included family) I allow in my space. 

Want to make more time to see more people who I do indeed Love. But this will happen when it happens.

I have four friends who I speak to almost every day.

That’s all I can handle.

That is enough and they get the benefit and burden of being in my inner circle. 

So.

I popped round for a very uplifting visit with one of the favoured four the night before. Went straight to see her after picking up my son from the North Shore. 

We laughed and chatted and Jamie joined us to protest and complain he was bored. He’s 11, it is his job to be bored and boredom is a gift denied most children these days.

We were the last generation (Gen X) to grow up entertaining ourselves in nature and being bored. 

Sigh.

So he joined our conversation and we had long chats about the Persephone project which he has been hearing about in some form his whole life. I asked what he thought Persephone was gearing up to do. He thought it was rescuing women who were like me when I was sad and broken.

Reasonable assumption indeed. 

But nope. My friend and I both chimed in and said there is nothing ambulance at the bottom of the cliff, nor triage, nor rescuing, nor sheltering women. Persephone will uplift and encourage, not rescue.

Semantics are everything. We explained semantics and how saying the same (relative) thing with different words could change everything about how the message is recieved.

This budding legacy project is all about supporting and uplifting women who have already done enough work to be safe and strong, and need a push to get to the next level in a world that has made it hard for women to get ahead. 

No rescuing. 

We rescued ourselves. 

Just recognising, supporting, acknowledging, investing in, and encouraging goddesses in meaningful ways.

So when she called, and her voice sounded serious, I thought she was gonna maybe scold me for using the cunt word as liberally as I had in conversations with her incredible daughter (who I adore and am so proud of). 

I cannot tell you in hindsight how ridiculous this assumption was, or how sad I am at my brain for thinking that everyone is gonna sucker punch me, scold me, lie to me, or give me shit any time I pick up a phone call. 

Our conversations with her 19 year old delight of a daughter were scintillating. She’s doing an intense biomed degree and we talked about brains and pathways and all sorts of interesting things she learned that day.

Full disclosure, this friend is a super mom. Kind, funny, warm, supportive and so much more engaged with the meaningful journey of being a mom than I ever was. She’s just dreamy and I am in awe of her most of the time.

However, this particular friend never uses the words cunt or bitch, and she hasn’t for a long time. It is one of her many unique and beautiful ways of celebrating women and flexing her feminist activist muscle. No derogatory phrases pertaining to female anything. 

I, on the other hand LOVE the cunt word. It is my favourite on so many levels and for so many reasons.

Using it as liberally as I do is how I practice my own method of worshiping women. It is a divisive word about a powerful, beautiful and magical thing that I am glad to be in possession of.

This is not a secret. I can put my sprinkling of c word and scrappy language to the side when I need to, but I never feel the need to when it is her and I. We’ve been great friends for a long time now.

So yeah.

Healing and happiness don’t mean the cPTSD part of you doesn’t revert to fear and fight or flight thinking even when you are safe and know you are safe. 

I say no to almost everything and only do things that I simply know I must or that bring me actual joy.

Damon and I also finally got around to getting our nails done yesterday. The technicians at the nail place know us really well at this point. We aim to visit the salon when it is quiet (which is rare) and we sometimes give gifts from the farm. 

Everyone is so kind and warm to us there. And they’re curious about us as we travel so much and have a lot of kids who come along from time to time to get their nails done.

My nail tech had even more questions than usual yesterday.

We covered the fact I am a witch, and I clearly like to be barefoot. she could tell from the state of my heels you see. I also explained that I avoid humans as much as I can and that is why I am so happy traveling to places where nobody knows me, nobody cares who I am and I can just smile at strangers and live my life and learn things to apply to our farm and other projects. 

A lovely woman named Barbara from Waimate (deep south) overheard our conversations. She laughed long and hearty through our chats, and said she fully understands my desire to disappear most of the time. 

I was too kind, and too accessible for far too long. I used up all my fucks begging to be seen and validated and failing to feel better from either of these things.

Now, I just relish my own company. Validation is not required, human contact is kept surface level and safe, but I still hold space for offering support and advice because I can do this without putting myself at any risk of burn out theses days. Boundaries are strong and beauty and magic are everywhere most of the time.

I still get triggered. I still struggle with deep sadness. I still feel angry and scared a lot of the time.

But brains do learn to seek and find joy and feel safe. 

If the feelings of anxiety and frustration are invited to run their course, and gratitude and wonder are nurtured in healthy green light relationships… brains and hearts do heal.

Yesterday was indeed a gift, and I just wanted to share a few snippets of it with you.

Thanks for reading. 

Love Sharing Stories – But Some Magic is Just for Me

The cycle of shame over not writing, editing, or attending enough to creative endeavours is my Sisyphus boulder.

While I do not currently earn a living from creative pursuits, I live a life scorched by the flames of curiosity and wonder. I also have the freedom and resources to be doing basically whatever I want, when I wish, where I choose, and only with people I actually adore. Yet, time gets swallowed up with business commitments, children, chores and general drudgery.

This is why we travel. And we travel A LOT. We head off to far flung places most people just don’t think to go so we can steep like a couple of happy little teabags in a hot water of hope, happiness, curiosity and creativity. 

My soulmate and muse Damon exists on a very different plane to me and sees the world through the eyes of an almost minimalist former Buddhist monk. He does not crave or create clutter or confusion. 

These days I am incomprehensibly calmer than I was a decade ago. Yet, still feel drawn to whimsy and probably more excitement than your average middle-aged witch. Also tend toward being compelled to consume trinkets and things as we travel. Purchased a lovely and loud bright orange dress in Santa Barbara. Do I need another dress? Absolutely not. Do I like my new dress? You bet your sweet bippy I do it is cute af. 

dress turned out to be the same color as the sunset on the trip from Houston to Merida.

So now we are ensconced in blissful solitude in a castle-like conversion in the capital of the Yucatan province in Mexico. Merida is the real Mexico I crave, not a touristic town filled with gringos like us. We came here to improve our Spanish and it is a necessity to speak it here. So that is a win.

We are also going to put me in my corset and witchy dress so I can swan around and Damon can photograph me. Love having a partner who is so willing to be silly and childlike with me. We literally play dress up and hide in our rich inner lives in strange and wonderful locations all over the planet.

We always have so many intentions of sharing the incredible moments of change and transformation we enjoy on our travels. Also sharing the rare but real challenges that sometimes arise in our intrepid choices. Honestly, we have some incredible ‘what-the-actual-fuck’ stories and really ought to be sharing those along with our smoother and simpler sojourns. 

We are pretty content most of the time at this stage in our lives. We actively avoid being ensconced in our own or other people’s complex orbits and dynamics as the more people you’ve got in your orbit, the higher the chances of being pulled into orbits of drama or difficulty. We do not shy away from grief or challenging times when they are presented to people we Love. We do avoid most people most of the time though, as we like our own company so very much. Life is predominantly devoid of drama and I tend to make myself scarce at the first sign of convoluted fuckery, decipherable deceit, or any other general hijinx. 

It is definitely by design that I only have four close friends. I am deeply, madly, and importantly in Love with hundreds of humans who have wandered into my life over the years. I would drop everything to support any one of them if I were summoned. But true, trusted, sincere friendships that I chat with consistent regularity (most days) I only have the bandwidth for four. I had more but my fuck around and find out mechanism means there’s been a lot of goodbyes for the sake of self-respect and preservation since I started my healing journey. Nobody nowhere will hear me speak anything but Love and respect for the people who were in my inner orbit once and have since been shut out. Provided they didn’t do anything cruel, conniving or unforgivable. I will speak that truth all day long if someone shit on me. But most of the friendships I have ended in the years since my breakdown have ended because it was time. No anger or animosity, just the dull ache that comes from wanting to reach and share good news or check in to celebrate a win or commiserate over something. And that ache is seasoned with a strong sense of relief as when something special and cherished ends, it always makes room for new adventures and beginnings. I am not a person who regrets letting go. I actually Love this about me. The ability to let go of basically anything or anyone so I have the bandwidth to really show up for what is important and fill up my cup too. 

Last week I took a rare and intense peak into the life and history of one of my four favoured friendships. Auriga brought us on a whirlwind tour of her teenage, formative and young adult life. I want to smash out a stunning update replete with images and insights that will capture with clarity the magic we were exposed to. I’m desperate to deliver with just enough words the closeness and clarity this journey introduced to our friendship. I want to bring the reader along on the funny, harrowing, heart-wrenching, exciting, and incredible journey we went on over four very busy and beautiful days.

But that magic lives in my heart now. And it is mine to have and I doubt I would be able to accurately describe the complex, charming, extraordinary and awe-inspiring magic I was exposed to.

So I won’t. 

I will perhaps write down some thoughts about the two beautiful people I finally met after hearing about them both for years. Auriga’s parents are formidable forces of nature in the most natural and wonderful way. She looked like a chuffed child sitting between them as we enjoyed sushi at a place over on Howard Hughes Drive.

How cute is Auriga and her parents are just lovely. The poodle is named Little Bit and I am more than a little bit obsessed with her she's perfect.

They have already lived long and incredible lives and are both witty, and brilliant and have poetry and pain sewn in their coat pockets from lives well-lived and mistakes made and learned from and stories that would make anyone laugh and cry. I wish them continued long, healthy, magical life. Along with all the other incredible over-achieving magical creatures we met. We need hope more than ever in these uncertain times. I have been decidedly charged up with some of that hope thanks to the magnificent and intelligent Americans I met on this adventure. 

And my heart hurts for them all as the world journey’s farther into patterns that many of us hoped would never be repeated.

Check in with your friends in the USA there’s a lot of feelings being felt right now and supporting mercy, kindness and intelligence is more important than I think it has ever been in my 46 years on this earth.

Thanks for reading.

Toiled Delightfully Through Tuesday

Bright Sides Glimmering Everywhere – Despite or Perhaps Because of My Raging ADHD?

So I have been known to create my own crisis/tension from time to time as this state is where my neuro-divergent self seriously gets shining…

Think I will start by saying thanks to you Wickedly Wonderful Witches who slipped into my DMs today.  And the lovely, patient women who keep in contact through the years on social media or IRL. My Coven really delivered some serious safe and magical vibes as I bopped around the city not doing the things I ought to be doing.

Today was a Tuesday.  

Day started a bit wobbly… I am feeling like an asshole because I am overdue for uploading/sharing the top ten for the photo comp I ran (rather successfully might I add!) in April.

I am so bad at deadlines.  So. Fucking. Unbelievably bad.  

HOWEVER…

Avoiding doing things I ought to be doing has always been a magical wonderland where I am a fucking weapon at doing other, unrelated tasks.  

Today I was a machine.  

Arranged house-sitting and childcare situation for the month of November.  The cat and our house are going to be absolutely pampered while Damon and I are pinching ourselves hiking through the Himalayas in the private and mysterious Kingdom of Bhutan. 

Op-shopped up a storm and scored a bunch of bargains at the Habitat for Humanity store in Wairau.  I picked up a proper (slightly scuffed but fit a treat) pair of Christian Loubouton sparkly heels.  I will likely never own another pair, and these were a proper Cinderella moment.  Ridiculous amount of money, but I am frugal as fuck with the shoe situation most of the time, and the money goes to a charity I actually admire, so… WINNING!  

I also found a delightful designer bag for one of my besties who just got a new job and needs to slay all day while she is well on her way.  

I’ve also been manifesting the perfect rain jacket and asking the Oracle to help me find this elusive item.  Today, she delivered and I got a shiny/sparkly deep red rain jacket that fit me beautifully for a cool $20.  I am gonna wear the absolute SHIT out of this jacket.  It is perfect.

Surprise! It’s Red…

Long luxurious chats with a few of my fave goddesses about serious witchy life stuff on the DMs all day.  It’s all proper private chatham house rules topics so I won’t share cause it’s none-o-yo-b’ness… suffice to say the synchronicity between us was and is kinda exquisite.  I don’t have many friends at this stage of my journey, but I sure do Love and appreciate the handful that have held on and proven they are trustworthy and true.  

Also went in to renew Registration on our teeny tiny city sized i3.  That’s an electric car for those who don’t recognise the term i3.  Her name is D33M0N – which is of course my name and my wife’s name squished together.  DEE and daMON –  and it’s also the name of our growing and UNBELIEVABLY fun and rewarding company.  Gonna be a hot minute before the place is humming along in profitability zone without us, but it is an absolute joy most of the time.  Wish everyone could Love their job as much as we do the farm and the eco-retreat. There would be no war, no crime, everyone would just be chill hanging with their chickens and listening to the bananas grow.  Or whatever version of that fills them with as much joy as our tiny slice of paradise brings us and our team.

Paid the RUC’s (Road User Charges) for both D33M0N and LOLGAS.  $743 for 10,000km for those who were wondering what the chargers are.  I do not mind paying road user charges but I do vehemently resent paying the same amount as planet fucking, particulate matter spewing diesel disasters are charged.  That is some serious bullshit right there, and exactly the kind of inane and completely ill-advised bollocks I have come to expect from our current cluster fuck of a political administration.  Truly confounding.  

Ordered three cheapo pairs of spectacles from Oscar Wylee (3 pairs $300… the rate at which I lose glasses I cannot justify spending more).

Got call from school nurse Steph’s still not feeling great and today was her fourth day off school.  The school nurse was a sweetheart and agreed Princess Stephanie needs another day to rest tomorrow.  This feels pretty okay considering she’s got most of the years required credits (with excellence) and is already applying for universities here, in Australia and Canada.

Organised THREE belated birthday dinners out this week and next.  Have also committed to doing some weird early morning exercise situation in Matakana with Sarah on Monday morning first thing.  Oracle preserve me I am a little scared!

Shopped for groceries, popped dinner on (roast chicken marinated overnight in oat milk and herbs and spices, highly HIGHLY recommend this recipe… so tender!), video call with the chair of my trust (an elusive but utterly divine goddess… sadly our paths won’t cross now until July as we are all so freaking busy!) 

Fed kids, admired our array of happy healthy pot plants (I never had a tidy, safe, calm home or pot plants ever in my life until I moved in with my domestic goddess wife), and was curled up in my jammies by 6:30pm.

AND THEN…

I wrote this blog.

Had no idea what an incredibly busy (and actually painfully expensive thanks to licensing and registration fees) and pleasantly productive day I had until I started writing.

Damon in his super cool 90s sweater

And how utterly blessed I feel to be surrounded by a safe, warm, calm environment.  My joy tonight was bubbling over as I chatted with happy, funny, open, and grateful kids.  Gosh they are far more settled and self-refelctive than I was at their ages.  Perhaps even more than I am now.  

Then came the obligatory pats for our needy three-legged rescue cat.  His name is Benedict Cumbercat and he is actually a total asshole but we adore him.  Tonight also saw me swept up in a moment where I very nearly wept with joy surveying our warm tidy living room full of healthy pot plants and witchy herbs thriving in their eclectic pots I have collected through op-shopping expeditions.

My delight dill!!!
In bed by 6:30 ftw 🙌

Not even a fraction of these rather wonderful things would have happened today if I wasn’t well and truly tied up in absolute knots about my earth day photo competition dilemma.  I must honour those who entered and share the finalists.  And I will.  And it will feel pretty good I hope.

But, for now, I’m just going to tuck in my ten year old and then slip off into a peaceful slumber thinking about all the big and little things that made today rather magical.