I was given rules for this past Easter weekend. Strict guidelines of the very best, most loving sort.
One of my dearest friends, who has been by my side since we were both nine years old, got the keys to her parents farmhouse. This house ceased being a primary residence long ago and is now currently on the market (ha yes, don't think the thought of homesteading on acreage instead of suburbia hasn't crossed my mind, but really you guys, I've had enough change for one year, ok?). Many years ago, the farm was originally purchased for hobby use. As time went by there were expansions and cattle were raised, then later sheep for fleece and lambs for meat. In more recent years, olive trees were planted with award winning oil produced.
For this Easter, my friend got the keys and invited the three of us to join her little family for the weekend. I'm skipping past the early part of this where I kinda not so subtly hinted that we'd like to hang with them for the weekend and did they want to go away because we thought that would be nice but my mum's Middleton beach house was already spoken for. Moving on past my 'inviting myself' and I was advised that all was set and I was not allowed to bring anything apart from myself, the kids, and our overnight bags.
It took some work because this friend of mine is a very strong debater, but eventually I convinced her that us bringing the lasagne that was in our freezer was a really good idea because it was huge and there was no way the three of us could ever eat it all and therefore it had to be shared among the seven of us to prevent wastage. My point was solid and my argument foolproof. She caved and I was given permission to bring the lasagne and any books or craft portable enough to continue working on.
With bags packed, lasagne in a cooler bag, my map in hand and Snowy freshly washed (it had been three weeks! He stank!), we hit the road.
Our days were filled with such goodness. Apart from all the love and support that flowed towards us from one of my most favourite families, there was a nature treasure hunt, egg painting, a kick of the footy* and lots of fabulous farm play. We were also lucky enough to visit the local dairy and not only watch the afternoon's milking but also hand feed the newest calves which were only one week old.
You can see from these photos that I spent a great deal of time being enchanted by the surrounding landscape and the rusty remnants of farm work from years past. I was also given the gift of an afternoon kip (aka Nana-Nap) and how about that Moon!?! A full Moon eclipse, a Blood Moon it is called when the Earth casts her shadow over the Moon often giving it a red tone. What I wouldn't have given for a fancy telescopic lens to truly capture it's magic. Although perhaps that isn't possible for the real magic comes from sitting and basking in it's beauty. The night was clear and absolutely perfect for viewing.
*Before I get into trouble from my Father-in-Law who is loyal supporter of the opposing team out of our two South Australian AFL representatives. The mini-football was not ours - ha, boy would I be getting a talking to if it were :) It was given as a gift to our friends by a supporter of that particular team. Although we remain rather neutral in the footy stakes, I am not one to betray my family. Let's focus on that kids stellar technique instead shall we? Noah was coming out with some sensational kicks and marks and I am really not sure where his talent comes from. Definitely not me and I never really saw Tuck play football in all our seventeen years together, but he did have a far better connection with his hand/eye coordination than I, so maybe it's from Daddy's side of the gene pool.