From the new house, we saw tall, bendy gum trees

and hilly paddocks dotted with cows. 
I made Sylvie a birthday cake

from my worn Women’s Weekly cookbook.

She made matching paper crowns for us to wear

as we collected kindling in the wispy rain. 
The sun blushed and slunk away.

Sam set up a fire pit with rickety chairs from the tip.

We made billy tea and damper in the glowing coals.

The milky way twinkled. 
It snowed on the last day of winter. Fairy wrens

danced in the drifting flurries. 
Time was measured by the thwacks of Sam chopping wood.

Wattle flowered the crisp air. 
Leo the budgie died and

Sam buried him in the backyard on a cold night.

We threw daisies on the tousled dirt.
We picked three bucketsful of blackberries

grown rampant in the dry following the rain.

Our mouths were stained purple and our socks

were prickled by farmer’s friends. 
We fossicked for sapphires in the creek

but only found fool’s gold.