weather

SUNDAY / 8

20140316-213012.jpg Restful and slow today. Yesterday, two of my best friends got married. It was a special and kind of dramatic one. Dramatic, if you can picture 100 people cheering for the happy couple as the thunder clapped over Bronte Park and we promptly upped vintage chairs, and, in all our finery, ran back through the park to the club overlooking the beach just as the storm broke. We made it with only a light sprinkling and as the torrential rain hit and the clouds loomed over the grey beach, we sipped on champagne and watched it all unfold from the deck above the beach. There was a moment as we were all of us picking our way through the wet grass, a sea of colours, strappy shoes and damp suits that I laughed out loud and just thought 'of course'. It somehow felt entirely appropriate that Addy and Mirza's wedding would feel like a scene from a French film. Like it was never going to be any other way.

So by today, feet sore from dancing, chest still a mess from this cough and my voice on the way out, I drank tea, read the paper, napped and took it all very easy. This is a crown we DIY'd out of some of the beautiful table greenery when things at the reception got all a little merry and messy (as happens). Tola bought the beautiful ceramic cup home from Mociun in New York, one of our favourites. It stormed again this afternoon, and I loved the way the light fell on the wall and table. It always feels clearer and cleaner after the rain.

LAST YEAR. 

ON FILMS AND RAIN

Greta GerwigA few different things fell into place this week. It was a nice bit of alignment, a kind of 'yeah, OK' moment. It started late last month when I re-watched Noah Baumbach's Frances Ha and thought about how much I had liked it. I liked it for a lot of reasons - not in the least because of New York City and all that beautiful cinematography - but mainly because of the fragment it was. I like stories that just take a piece, a small glimpse at someone's life. Intimate more than sweeping. And the arch of this story was lovely and sad and sweet and funny and in parts very normal. I loved the character and thought Greta Gerwig played just the right amount of smart and fragile and quirky, never overdone. It made me remember how glad I am that I'm not 27 anymore.

And then on Monday I came across Chloe's blog and really liked her review - how she could watch Frances run through the streets forever. I loved that scene too, it felt so light and strong at the same time. Full of grace and heart and a wonderful sense of not-giving-a-damn.

Which brings me to last night and the crazy-big storm that swept Sydney. The afternoon had been coming across all dark and moody, then promptly got hit by a torrential amount of rain just as I left the office. I got a bus halfway to my yoga studio and, in my sneakers and yoga pants, backpack on tight, giggled like hell as I ran the remaining few blocks. There was a bit of uncertainty as I climbed off the bus, with people squealed and huddled under awnings and in doorways (it was flash-flood, drains-blocked cats and dogs heavy rain), before I realised that I actually didn't care. The worst that could happen was I'd get wet, and that was fine. That was actually kind of fun. So I just went with it. And there was a moment as I was crossing Albion St and leaping over rather a large puddle that I thought about Frances Ha, about her running through New York and it being beautiful. And I thought how lucky I was that I remembered my sneakers but not my umbrella, that I was healthy and able to run and jump, that I had nothing of consequence to dampen my spirits.

And after all that, resting before class and setting our intentions, my yoga instructor Persia went ahead and made my night. She has a habit of reading things so beautifully, and spoke to us about the rain and water. Well obviously she did, it was still pouring down outside, but it was more how she framed it. She reminded us that we're mostly water, that water makes up our very being and is the life force that drives creativity and passion and we should embrace that. She put together a sequence of poses that had amazing flow and worked at supporting us to let things go. And I really have some things to let go. It was the closest I've felt to that for a while, to washing away all of the heartache and tension and feeling my best.

What I'm saying in a round-about way is last night was good.

STORMY

FERRYThis is just how I’m feeling today. In the thick of it - overwhelmed and a bit at sea. The picture was taken this morning on the Manly ferry (SERIOUSLY). I always like the idea of getting the ferry to work, but not on days like this. Can you imagine the swell on such a small boat? The waves crashing about and how scary it must be just sitting inside, nursing your latte? I imagine they’ve stopped running now - this weather is all too much.

Kind of brings new meaning to this old gem, doesn't it?

*Picture via the Sydney Morning Herald

SUNDAY / 20

20130612-204634.jpgThis past Sunday happened on a Monday for me. I've had a long and pretty awful week, one I won't go into, except to say that Monday's storm near broke my heart, all foggy and deep and grey with buckets of rain.

But when it broke came this. A bright sky - pink and crisp, with the most spectacular golden light drenching houses and the nearly bare trees. Bursts of tired sun and clouds for miles and I promise it was so beautiful you'd wish Sunday was a Monday every week.