I do try and keep things reasonably anonymous here. Having survived the experience of someone becoming a little too keen on being me, I do not wish to tempt fate and open the door to any more slightly obsessive, needy friends. But on such a glorious mountain day it is hard not to sing to the masses about our wonderful life here.
I was born in the country. Spent my first eighteen years there, then moved to the big smoke. It was not until I had my own children that I began to appreciate all I had been blessed with during my childhood. Freedom to run, play, explore and grow.
My boys now have the same freedom with our three acres of heaven, away from bustling roads and noisy neighbours. They run around the lawns with Dog 1 and Dog 2, explore hidden nooks of our 3/4 acre of rainforest, climb the huge avocado in which they and Big Boy are building a tree house - complete with flying fox I might add. They go adventuring to the secret stream, digging in the mud for all sorts of weird and wonderful creatures. Giggles and squeals echo back to the house, which both boys would stoicly deny, of course. Boys do not giggle, they laugh in a manly masculine manner.
When they tire, they sit, heads together in the shade of an eons old Morton Bay fig. Uninhibited laughter floats over our valley, as do the quiet whispers of awe when they find native animals or birds hidden away.
We are very lucky to have found our own slice of heaven.
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