Documenting OUR Days July 2019

I grew up in a small rural village in Ireland. When I looked outside my bedroom window I would see green bushes through the bushes I would see the pink wet noses of black and white cows, their long pink tongues cleaning out their left nostril while they stared at me getting dressed.

We would go for adventures in the field out the back of our small cottage. A cold, and bog filtered stream ran alongside our house. It had steep embankments that we would climb down to get to the water. I would spend my days lifting up the rocks under the water and looking at the creatures that swam out. We would try and walk through the water in our wellington boots and see how far we could make it upstream until or path was blocked by thick thorny overgrown bushes.

We would make houses in gaps in the bushes complete with old pots and pans to make mud pies for our imaginary children. We would play hide and seek but our crazy dog would give up our hiding place before the seeker even had to try.

Every weekend and holiday would be an outdoor adventure of some sort where we would come back home exhausted and covered in mud.

How healthy we were.

My two boys now have a different life. Its more clean and structured. They are not exposed to adventure like I was and this makes me sad. So any chance I get to go camping or exploring the beach or the Australian bush I jump on it. I want them to learn about nature and taking risks. The opportunity to learn the skill of climbing a tree is rare for them, living in a comfortable suburban environment.

So when my friend suggested we take our boys for an adventure in the bush at Whistlepipe Gully/Lesmurdie Falls. I said yes Please and off we went. There was tree climbing, decision making, team work, there was adventure and some worry about which path to take. There was some mood swings and bird chasing and a razor sharp rock opening up small hands. But we all came back delighted with the adventure the path had led us on.

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