We spent New Year on the property where I spent most of my childhood.  Part of my family still live there but for a variety of reasons nine years have passed between visits.   Honestly, I am not sure where those nine years have gone.

So many memories surfaced from our visit that when we eventually arrived home in the stifling heat on the first day of January I shed a few tears.  Tears because I felt grateful for what I have now; a devoted husband who makes me laugh everyday, two incredible children and a beautiful home.

 

 

I shed a few tears also for the memories of the past.

The unmistakable clink of the back gate.

 

The white and navy placemats that have been on the contentious kitchen table for at least twenty years.

The smell of the storeroom with its big green meat safe, creaky floorboards and well stocked shelves.

My childhood footsteps retraced by my children’s footsteps.

The tough old grapevines growing on the verandahs.

 

Young love and not so young love.

The elaborate dinner parties hosted in an era that has past, replaced by cold beer and yabbies at the shed.

The reassurance of ornaments, furniture, art and pieces of family history that have never, ever been rearranged in my lifetime.

My seven year old daughter asking completely relevant questions about sheep and farming as we drove over the dusty tracks of my adolescence.

My eyes looked at the old buildings and the outback light with a completely different perspective on this visit, perhaps I have photography to thank for that.  Or is it just that I am older?

 

 

 

I have not made any bold resolutions for 2014.  I just want to live each day a little more
gently.

What is happening at your place?

How is 2014 looking so far?

Do you ever reminisce at this time
of the year?

**This post is a little more personal than usual just because life is not all sourdough loaves and freshly picked vegetable.  My first post for 2014 seemed like an appropriate place to let a few thoughts flow, I am sure you understand.