When we moved into our house, there was a pretty little pond in the back garden. Surrounded by plants and flowers, and a wooden bird table, it even had fishes swimming in it. The previous owners kept ducks (18 to be precise...) so the pond area was a slippery mire of duck poo when I flew over from Melbourne to take a look at the property, but my father-in-law took care of that when he re-homed the Muscovys on his block down at Petcheys Bay. So we inherited a rather ornamental water feature in the end. But of course, with two year old twins, all I could see when I gazed into the green water was accidents....
When I was three or four I remember falling into a fishpond in someone's garden, and even though it was netted I was traumatised enough to be put off swimming for about 37 years. I'm a born again mermaid now, but I'd hate any of my children to have to struggle against a foundation of fear when it comes to water. So, the pond has become what is quite possibly the best sandpit in the world. The panoramic views are astonishing, the setting divine, and most importantly, there's enough space for them all to be occupied without grazing elbows. In fact, they have called it their Beach Bakery because while they're making their sand pies and cakes and ice creams, they like to think they are, in fact, actually on the beach.
I would like to thank whoever made this pond, because they did a great job - we'll probably reinstate it one day, when everyone's past the phase of tumbling, or pushing each other in. Who knows, maybe we'll even get a duck or two. But for now, it's all go at the bakery - anyone for a chocolate/coffee/apricot/broccoli/actually mostly sand muffin?
After spending 22 years in London I packed my bags and crossed the world for a new life in Australia. Pregnant with twins, I landed up in Melbourne, together with my hubby and 18 month old toddler, and spent the next three years grappling with small children, belligerent drivers, and endless, faceless suburbs. Finally we boarded the ferry and escaped into the beyond, across the Bass Strait. Journey's end; an old weatherboard cottage set in the middle of a beautiful country garden, surrounded by paddocks, forests, and mountains in Tasmania's Huon Valley.... Now it all makes sense.
Thank you for looking in, and all comments will be gladly received!