07/04/2026
Last week was my bday. I don’t post this to demand a single message of love, truly. (The only person that should be celebrated is my mum!)
But I mention it to give context to this beautiful picture painted for me by one of those women who continue to astonish. And to pause on a moment of subtle change.
The artist is the grandmother of a little girl in Wilbur’s class (4), the mother of a brilliant, talented bunch of English-Australian brothers who live around here, the mother-in-law of two glorious trilingual women — and she and I are becoming friends in our own right.
Even though she did try to scare me off the first time we met by telling me off for leaving the wine press in the street…
Starting again in your 40s isn’t easy. Especially when, because of the language, words sometimes fall out of my mouth in cubes, when in my mind they arrived as clear, flowing wisps. The longing for old friendships and deep connections is always there — and it’s not something you can neatly sum up in an Insta caption (lucky for you, dear reader).
But now that I’m back in the northern hemisphere, my birthday falls once again in early spring rather than a soft Victorian autumn. Both seasons have their own sweet beauty, but like the tiny buds of wildflowers starting to unfurl in the mountains, I feel the very beginning of an unfurling.
And it’s thanks to gestures like this — something imagined and created just for you — that I feel the forming of gentle tendrils of belonging.
So thank you to my new friend and her family that have embraced us, and to all old and new friendships, passing, fleeting or ancient. All so precious. To all those gifts of love, in whatever form, that fill my heart’s cup.
A small reminder, too, to share your creative self. You never quite know where it will land, or how much it might mean.❤️
