by Krista | Dec 3, 2023 | Summer
“Keep taking time for yourself until you’re you again.” Lalah Delia
For a long time after my Bear died last year, I didn’t think I’d ever be me again. The day he died, I went into shock. The following days, weeks, and months are a blur to me now, a hazy memory of trying to breathe, making myself eat, and doing the farm chores with tears streaming down my face as I told Bear over and over, “I can’t do this, babe, I can’t”.
My brain couldn’t accept the fact that my love was gone, that the creak I heard on the back steps wasn’t him coming up from the shed for a cuppa and chat, the ring of my phone wasn’t him calling to see how my day was going, that his side of the bed was empty when I’d reach for him in the night. It felt like nothing would ever be OK again.
And for a while, nothing was. Things got worse. Much worse.
Drought ravaged the farm creating cracks so big in the soil that I could slide my arm into them. Dogs and a fox got into my paddocks and killed half my herd and I spent days burning bodies. “Shiny, Happy People”, a documentary of the cult I was raised in, came out, triggering horrible dreams, PTSD, and severe flashbacks. Bushfires raged, I was hospitalised twice, and a nightmare litigation ensued.
I told Bear, “I can’t do this, babe, I can’t.” And felt him say in return, “I know, darlin’, it’s too much, but you will.”
So, I hung on. And when I couldn’t hang on, dear friends propped me up and gave me the love and support I needed to take another step forward. I went to therapy, read everything I could about grief, and sat with my shadows until I could see them for what they really were – my greatest strengths and the very things I needed to get through this life.
My neighbour helped me repair the irrigation so my plants and trees could have a fighting chance in the drought, I rebuilt fences and gates and made them dog and fox-proof, and I took ownership of my situation and studied Queensland law so I could navigate the litigation to the best of my ability.
In time, things got better. Rain came at last, putting out fires, filling in the cracks, and turning the whole region a dazzling green. Wounded animals recovered, rebuilt fences have done their job, and I’m no longer afraid of or intimidated by lawyers and litigation.
Even more precious is discovering that even though grief doesn’t go away, the soul/heart/spirit, whatever you want to call it, expands and stretches and makes room for peace and joy and love too. They’ve squeezed in alongside my loneliness and heartbreak and despair until they’re all nestled together quite cosily, enabling me somehow to live again. The pain of Bear’s death will always be with me, but as I care well for myself and stay close to my steadfastly loving people, I find that it gets cushioned, its sharp edges softened.
I understand now that I’ll never be me again, not the old me. She is gone. But I can be the new me, the now me, the ever-changing, never-give-up, plant-seeds-in-drought me.
I know bushfires will flare up again, drought will return, and I will lose people I love. Unkind people will need to be stood up to, animals will die, and life will go all sorts of wonky, but I will be OK. Now I know to my very bones that no matter what happens, even when I can’t do it, I will.
by Krista | Jan 28, 2017 | Summer
I can do hard things.
It’s what I tell myself on a daily basis. It’s my sometimes hourly shot of courage that keeps me taking one more step, tackling one more task, pushing through until “it” is done.
I’ve done things I never thought I could just by repeating that soul-stirring phrase to my weary self. And afterwards I look back and smile and think, “Girl, you’re way stronger than you thought.”
We all are.
There are a lot of hard things in the world right now, and it gives me courage to press on doing good and standing up for what’s just and right when I can look back and know: “I’ve done hard things before. I can do hard things now.”
So we press on.
Last weekend I had interviews and photoshoots for Highlife magazine, and instead of dashing from one appointment to another, I scheduled a whole day on the road with plenty of time for stops and detours and a picnic.
It was gorgeous and cloudy, deliciously cool after day upon day of sweltering heat, and I opened my windows and luxuriated in it.
I visited a sheep station on the flats and a cattle station in alpine country near the Bunya Mountains. How I loved visiting such inspiring people who opened their homes and shared their stories. With such good people in this world, there is always hope.
On the way home I took my time, meandering down side roads and stopping wherever my fancy took me. As I drove past a little whistle stop of a town, I followed signs to a place called Coomba Water Hole.
I parked in a clearing in the boulder strewn bush and followed a trail that led past granite outcroppings and hundreds of grass trees. A wide, sturdy staircase led down, down, down until I glimpsed the shimmer of water through the trees.
I climbed down past multi-coloured cliffs, in awe of the wild, rugged beauty of this place I’d never even heard of.
Emerging on the shores of this gorgeous little pool made the entire trip worth it. The stress of long work days, the ache of heavy lifting on the farm, it all melted away as I stood in this place that to me, at least, was magical.
Nearby a rope swing hung from a towering tree, and kids were having a marvellous time swinging out over the water before dropping in with whoops and splashes. Back by the cliffs their parents took advantage of the distraction to indulge in a bit of canoodling. Behind me an Indian family arrived, laughing and talking and posing on the rocks. One man kept turning this way and that, saying, “Does this make me look fat?” The women of the family instructed him just how to stand to get the best angle. Moments later his brother leapt up on the rock, hands on hips, “You can take a picture of me from any angle. I KNOW I look good!” I love people. 🙂
It was a wonderful spot and I’m so glad I stopped. I look forward to another cool day when Bear’s injuries have healed so I can whisk him off here for a picnic.
Now luvs, it’s time for bed. I’ve been working so hard this week, trying to get everything done by Saturday night so I could have a real day off with Bear on Sunday. I worked 13 hours straight today to pull it off, and I did it!! So excited to sleep in tomorrow, have hot buttered muffins and coffee for breakfast, then do whatever we feel like for a whole day. What are you looking forward to this weekend? xo
by Krista | Feb 26, 2016 | Summer
I like a lot of things about my Bear, but one of my favorites is his ability to turn mundane chores into memorable adventures. Today he transformed a car appointment into the loveliest day out, and it was just what I needed after an exhausting week.
He started by pulling into our favorite cafe in a nearby city and treating us to brunch. We had toasted sandwiches and shared a sumptuously creamy chicken, avocado, and sun-dried tomato salad. A surprise brunch just wouldn’t be right without coffees and dessert, so we indulged in our usual drinks – long black for him, flat white for me – and pieces of opera cake, heavenly layers of wafer thin almond sponge, coffee syrup, coffee butter cream, and a dark chocolate glaze. Bliss.
Then we hopped in the car and he took us for a drive.
It was a gorgeous day for a drive, blazing hot and sunny with brilliant blue skies, just the sort of day you want to enjoy from the comfort of an air-conditioned car.
We had a cuppa with our good friend and blacksmith at his country home in Wivenhoe Pocket – isn’t that the best name? – and talked about swords and motorcycles and plants and goats and home renovations, all the lovely mundane things that are interesting when shared with comfy friends.
Then we drove down to a spot by the Brisbane River that we’d noticed on our drive in.
It is such a beautiful spot with crystal clear water and lovely old trees along the riverbank.
Families fished along the shore while others kept cool under a shelter with a cold beer in hand. Teenagers too hot to care about going home for swimming togs, swam happily in their underwear, luxuriating in cool river water against their sunburned skin.
I wandered along the rocky shore and over the bridge, watching vivid green weeds bobbing serenely with the current, loving the twisted gum trees casting shadows over shallow pools.
Rivers have a beautiful mesmerizing quality that lulls and soothes as the water flows steadily, pouring over rocks and twirling around fence posts and tree branches. I find it utterly relaxing to watch the water, listening to it gurgle and sigh.
Back in the car Bear and I grinned at each other, basking in the novelty of sitting and just enjoying our surroundings.
There’s not much better than a hot, sunny afternoon by the water to restore weary spirits.
Then we headed for home, Bear taking every back road he could find to give us new surroundings to look at. We meandered past acres of lush farmland and stopped at vegetable stalls in search of Roma tomatoes. We drove through the mountains, along twisting, narrow lanes that led past towering rock cliffs and tidy little farms nestled next to open meadows and dry creek beds. Bear kept me entertained as he pointed out landmarks he remembered from his childhood: swimming holes, picnicking spots, and places his parents once took him on Sunday drives. It was marvelous.
Where is your favorite place to escape to when you need a little break? xo
by Krista | Jan 20, 2016 | Summer
Growing up near the exquisitely beautiful Rocky Mountains in Canada made me a lifelong lover of alpine meadows. My childhood was spent hiking them with my parents and three little brothers, assorted cousins, aunts, uncles, and family friends. We young ones would race across the lush expanse, leaping as high as we could off obliging logs and stumps, collect fistfuls of wildflowers, and search the undergrowth for tiny alpine strawberries.
I search out alpine meadows wherever I can find them. I’ve hiked to them in British Columbia, Italy, and Alberta, Germany, Austria, and Switzerland, Slovenia, Bosnia, and Albania. Each one is unique yet boasts the same elements: stunning views, cool, fresh air, and wondrous beauty.
Hiking in the Bunya Mountains was my first experience of an Australian alpine meadow, and I wasn’t disappointed.
The instant recognition in my heart almost hurt with its intensity. Emotionally I was whisked back to my childhood, and wouldn’t have been surprised in the least to see Bighorn Sheep grazing in the distance or a black bear ambling along to the next berry patch.
I couldn’t stop smiling as we wandered through, watching millions of wildflowers dancing in the buffeting winds, stopping to watch a huge goanna waddle across our path and hustle into the undergrowth.
The trees, flowers, and wildlife in an Australian alpine meadow may be different to what I’m used to, but the feeling is the same: freedom, space, unfettered joy.
Sue and I walked slower through the meadow than we did on any other part of our trek through the Bunya Mountains, both of us wanting to soak up the bliss of cool winds and gorgeous vistas. We were so glad we chose the 10 km hike so we didn’t miss out on this treasure of a place.
At last we couldn’t drag our heels any longer and bid farewell to the alpine meadow.
It certainly helped that the next part of our hike was entered through this magical archway. Who could resist such loveliness?
Do you have a place from your childhood that always brings back happy memories? xo
by Krista | Jan 18, 2016 | Summer
Entering the Bunya Mountain rainforest is like stepping into a fairyland.
The hum of traffic disappears, distant voices are silenced, and even the sunlight vanishes behind the canopy of trees that towers far, far overhead, only slipping through occasional gaps to provide shimmers of light on rain-drenched leaves.
It’s a wonderful place to walk, cool and dark, moist and lush, with so many treasures underfoot to discover. We found tiny mushrooms and vivid fungi clusters, glossy clumps of berries and showers of flowers that drifted down from unseen branches above.
We gazed in wonder at the massive trees around us, each one a unique configuration of color and texture, some swallowed up by eerie strangler figs, like the ghost gum below.
Up and down, side to side, our eyes danced from one beauty to another. Aren’t these sculptures amazing? I think they’re some sort of fungi, but they looked like ice crystals or snow carvings.
I was awed by the tangles of roots that tumbled over each other, twisting and turning before disappearing into a sea of ferns.
The rainforest is a dappled vision of shades of green, but now and then a burst of color would appear in the form of tropical flowers or vivid red and yellow leaves that tumbled down from the canopy above.
We found waterfalls, lazy streams, and crystal clear pools that looked like scenes out of Swiss Family Robinson.
We clambered over big rocks to sit by one stream and lingered there a long time munching on crisp apples and walnuts. We listened to the gurgle of water, the shushing of wind through the trees, and chatted amiably with other hikers as they trudged past.
One thing I love about my friend Sue is she’s comfy to travel with. A great conversationalist with interesting things to chat about, she’s also at ease with quiet.
In the rainforest you need that companionable silence, time to walk mindfully and let your thoughts amble along wherever they need to go as you bask in the wonder of magnificent trees and delicate ferns, glossy fallen leaves underfoot and serene little streams tumbling gently beside the trail.
With each mile you feel the stress of everyday life dissipate, and rather than worrying about bills or troublesome issues, your brain is lulled into delicious rest. It’s lovely.
After a couple of hours on the trail, the incline grew steeper and suddenly we emerged into a breathtaking alpine meadow.
