SUNDAY / 10

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A Sunday and a birthday, this one. My birthday. And Katie's actually, we're born on the very same day, just a few years apart. So we opened up our home, swept the floors, pulled out the vinyl, made three cakes, bought ginger beer and nice wine and, in the afternoon, had 50-odd friends over to celebrate with us. It was bloody lovely.

I was pretty overwhelmed with how generous my friends are, how much love I felt on the day (from those near and lots from those far). Birthdays are good like that.

The picture is from Monday afternoon. The house was too full and I was too busy having a nice time to take a picture on Sunday.

YEAR THREE.

YEAR TWO.

YEAR ONE.

SUNDAY / 9

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Afternoon light. Our house gets THE BEST afternoon light. I came home from work yesterday and the rest of the street was in the shade, but there was one wide and glorious beam of golden evening light shining through the break in trees at the park over the road and our house was beautifully lit up.

It's autumn now officially, and the light has changed. It feels warmer, not as piercing. This last Sunday was a working day, at home, at the table, with Ngaio trying to Make Nice. Lucy came around to do her study and we all ate a lot of ginger biscuits and laughed, probably a little too distracted by the internets, but got quite a bit done all the same.   

YEAR THREE.

YEAR TWO.

YEAR ONE. 

THE THING IS

the thing is

to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you've held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.

Ellen Bass

SUNDAY / 8

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Last night was a late one, a Sunday night gig at the Enmore to see Jason Isbell. I saw him a few years ago, an acoustic set supporting Ryan Adams at the Opera House and was reminded (as I so often am) how important it is to catch the opening act. He was spectacular, and his album Southeastern is one of my standouts from the last few years. 

Last night was brilliant, his full bad are a talented bunch (though I do think solo is more my taste). About halfway in he played Cover Me Up, which is my favourite of his. He said he wrote it for his wife, before she was his wife. I can see why they're married - such a beautiful and powerful song, he really had us in the palm of his hand. If you weren't there, this Austin City Limits version is about as close as you'll get and worth your time at that. 

I made it to my car just as the heavens opened up and it started to pour. I must have driven no more than 20 KMs an hour the whole way home, it was torrential and so hard to see. Made for a good picture though, before the lights changed.  

YEAR THREE.

YEAR TWO.

YEAR ONE.