nice things, lately

daily observations, new books, autumn light

I can be critical of everything that’s been commercialised and still find delight in nice things. Maybe you feel this way, too?

At this time of the year, the magnolia tree I look at from my writing room is clinging to the last of its leaves that are yellowed; edged with brown like they’ve been dipped in tea. Around its base and all across the yard are curled and dry leaves waiting to be raked and thrown on the compost. I’ll let them stay for a while longer because I like how they soften the ground; they remind me that beauty is not always neat. Not everything needs to be tidied.

The sun is only reaching the right-hand side of the room now but it casts gold on the window frame and the far corner. I sit typing - for just a while - in a light box. The morning light will get smaller over the next few weeks as we inch towards the winter solstice; the peeling paint on the exterior wall of the mudroom will be in shadow for most of the day. This gentle closing in is worthy of our attention because as the light lowers so too will our energy and capacity; it’s our nature.

My youngest daughter is named Marigold because she was conceived in Bali where the marigold garlands and offerings are prolific. I didn’t need to do a pregnancy test to confirm my pregnancy; three separate Balinese women all gestured to my belly, cooing that there was a baby growing. I didn’t believe the first, I was dubious after the second, I knew with absolute certainty by the third. Today she gifted me an oil pastel drawing of a yellow flower which I’ll frame and hang on the wall. My firstborn had the fox from The Little Prince tattooed on his forearm on Friday because we read that book and then watched the television show together when he was younger. Better than M U M across his knuckles, I guess.

I bought myself two books: The Palm House by Gwendoline Riley and My Year in Paris with Gertrude Stein by Deborah Levy. My to-be-read pile is a teetering tower but I am in a lovely creative sphere at the moment; reading and writing, and writing and underlining, and editing and reading and, well, I want to keep learning from the established writers, just like I learnt from the established mothers when I was a new mum.

Last night I baked dutch cream jacket potatoes (they grow well in this part of Tasmania thanks to the rust red volcanic soil), a few of which were bigger than my two hands put together. I made coleslaw and fried bacon and had all the necessary accompaniments: chives, sour cream, grated cheese, mustard, salt + pepper. It’s an easy dinner, everyone can make their own, no one complains.

Now that it’s properly cold in the mornings I am drinking my one coffee a day too quickly; I look down and am forlorn at the last mouthful that sits in the cup, requesting my attention before it turns cold. Yet still, I resist brewing a second because it makes me far too jittery and that’s not good for sitting at a desk or doing anything with any semblance of ease. I switch to tea by 10am.

Nice things are necessary in life. ‘Nice’ is totally subjective, isn’t it? It was the word we were always encouraged not to use in primary school but ‘nice’ is harmless, and some things are just that, aren’t they? We can go searching for a better word, a fancier way of saying things, but not everything needs to be profound.

I sorted through my wardrobe and everything is where it needs to be. I was reminded of the lovely woollen jumpers I own (enough), the long-sleeve merino tees (enough), the various cotton and woollen scarves (more than enough, to be honest). No shopping necessary.

The joy of hanging the washing in the late-autumn sun; the disappointment when you bring it inside and it smells like smoke from the fire; the acceptance that it’s just how it’s going to be.

This morning when I walked the air carried the smell of salt and lanolin which is precisely the concoction that says to me: Tasmania, which now also translates to: home. Other good smells:

• just-ground coffee beans

• beeswax candles

• the half-price supermarket body wash that reminds me of Aesop

• freshly picked herbs

• petrichor

• lavender + frankincense

I am ending the week not very organised for the days ahead but it’s okay; easy dinners, simple lunchboxes, lower expectations. Not every week needs to have a meticulous plan and perfect preparation.

Some weeks are for going with the flow; this week will be just that.

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thrifty tip

you know how people habit stack? I errand stack! It’s become even more vital with fuel prices increasing. I write a list of what I need to get done and get it all done at once. If I have an appointment in town, I make sure I also go to the library, the post office, pick up the groceries, pop into the op-shop (with a list of what I need).

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other things

• The Things We Never Say (perfect cover, perfect endpapers) is precisely as good as I hoped it would be; I admire Strout’s courage with this book and will study her sentences and characters forever; they are masterful. More on getting inside people’s minds in this feature article

• my dear friend Jaclyn Crupi has written about the current state of the Australian publishing industry and I lapped it up

• if you enjoy listening to birth stories I recommend listing to Beth (a midwife and mum of four) on Growing podcast who shares her recent twin birth. I appreciate her articulating the immense responsibility you feel towards the end of pregnancy and the utter discombobulation when you have to pivot and accept a change of plans

• a life-changing literary prize for Gwendoline Riley

• my favourite new release roundup on News & Reviews by Bri Lee yet!

Till next week, take really good care (and make sure you sigh and soften into some breathing space) x