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A small relaxation on restrictions kicked in last week — 2 adults and their dependent children can visit another household, for ‘care’ purposes, recognising human beings need contact with each other for good mental health. And so today, my sister, her partner and their son are coming up to the Blue Mountains from St Peters. The kids could barely sleep last night, so thrilled to have visitors it might have been Christmas. Thankfully a few chapters from “The Extremely Inconvenient Adventures of Bronte Mettlestone’ by Jaclyn Moriarty gave expression, release and relief to their excitement, chewing up time before bed and offering delightful distraction into sleep & dreams.
We made a mushroom & spinach frittata for their visit this morning, M made his sourdough, and our family arrived with a selection of pastries from Sydney as a treat. We made a pot of tea and ate the pastries before we walked down to the fire trail leading to Hazel Falls. We passed an abandoned camp. It’s eerie—the sleeping bag and old coffee tin layered in dust, untouched for a time, under a stone ledge. My kids want to explore it but we call them back. An officer told me there were many such camps, and itinerants circulate through them, moving from one to the next on a never-ending cycle.
Some of the family reached the waterfall ahead of the rest. If you stand at the bottom and look up, you have the uncanny feeling of being inside a giant ceramic bowl, such is the layering of dark stone and moss. It is wet-walled, a rainforest growth, and it was briefly quiet—the first of the group were lucky enough to see a big, beautiful, blue yabbie in the pool, before the noise of the boys sent it scuttling for cover.
We made a mushroom & spinach frittata for their visit this morning, M made his sourdough, and our family arrived with a selection of pastries from Sydney as a treat. We made a pot of tea and ate the pastries before we walked down to the fire trail leading to Hazel Falls. We passed an abandoned camp. It’s eerie—the sleeping bag and old coffee tin layered in dust, untouched for a time, under a stone ledge. My kids want to explore it but we call them back. An officer told me there were many such camps, and itinerants circulate through them, moving from one to the next on a never-ending cycle.
Some of the family reached the waterfall ahead of the rest. If you stand at the bottom and look up, you have the uncanny feeling of being inside a giant ceramic bowl, such is the layering of dark stone and moss. It is wet-walled, a rainforest growth, and it was briefly quiet—the first of the group were lucky enough to see a big, beautiful, blue yabbie in the pool, before the noise of the boys sent it scuttling for cover.