Well I am feeling a bit sore from chopping firewood. I am determined not to be stranded in the cold if Monte has to go out, and why should I not chop wood? Today we drove the truck up to the top of our property and whilst the children and dogs played (d’Art disappearing into the forest to chase wallabies), Monte and I chopped wood for our woodpile. And here I am, seated warm and cosy by the fire, not quite believing that this is March. Just. Autumn, I suppose, is more excusable for fires indoors; whereas sitting by a fire in February is just weird! What is the rest of the world doing? Without television or radio, I feel a bit out of the loop sometimes. Thankfully the internet keeps me up to speed with things that are important.

I would love you to see my forest. It has it all: birdsong, a running brook, manferns, trees reaching to the stars. It has berries, branches, wallabies and all sorts of living things. The ground is soft yet crackly. Bracken and blackberries block the way sometimes, and sometimes you walk along a moss-covered path to get… anywhere. It’s my forest. Our forest. I love it!