Models: Jen and Tina
Styling: Emma Kate Creative & The Bowerbird Room
Venue: Stockade Botanical Gardens, Adelaide

Because there is nothing more fun than an afternoon in the glorious winter sunshine playing with vintage teacups and way too much sugar.

Photos will be up soon x.

On Saturday, assistant rainbow follower Elise and I, along with a brilliant army of helpers, strung and hung one thousand white paper cranes in Adelaide’s botanic park, underneath the shady branches of the dreamiest Moreton Bay Fig tree imaginable.

We are not ready to reveal exactly what we’re up to yet, but it’s called Let’s Chase Rainbows and we’re too excited not to share these behind the scenes iPhone snapshots OH, and a time-lapse of the setup!

Benjamin Liew of Benjamin Liew Photography kindly took some amazing photos of us frolicking amongst our crane sanctuary come macaron picnic in the late afternoon light. You’ll see these soon!

For now, Love and rainbow colours to all xx

I created Esther and Brendan’s stationery last year from my tiny desk in Montpellier, France. These happy snaps of the bride and groom, flowers, table settings and atmosphere just arrived in my inbox and I am excited to share. What a stunning wedding!

Photos below courtesy of Simon Bills.

And just some shots I took for my invitations portfolio.

Welcome loveliest people, to my beautiful new space.

Come inside, take off your shoes and play. A cup of peppermint tea, anyone? Or maybe champagne? I’m feeling a bit festive.

The palettes are a little more mature, the style less crafty and a little more ethereal. I guess i’m all, like, travelled these days.

So let me give you the tour. You’ll find everything you need along the top menu, with secondary pages down the left hand side. Just remember to scroll sideways through image galleries and scroll down for wordy bits.

You’ll see my ponderings, life snippets and inspirationing right here inside my journal, creative work inside the studio, photos albums inside events. You can read all about me and Emma Kate Creative in story. And to send me love, visit connect.

My home is your home… make yourself comfy!

x

A hundred coffees and hugs and reunitings, a massive Christmas, moving into a new home, new years eve and now 2012 is here.

Bam.

I’m not sure I’m ready / I’m not sure if I should post this, but why not be real and raw? It’s been really tough to settle. I haven’t yet.

I’m so happy / I’m so sad / I’m feeling / I’m unfeeling.
I question why I came back / I know I had reached my ending there.
Here is home / but so was there / and so I’m just floating.
Waves of homesickness for France clash against waves of joy for the things, people, familiarity of here.
This / There / The inbetween.

The memories sparkle and fizz, so very real and vivid. I can close my eyes and be right back there, in those moments, all at once.

Picnicking on the steps of the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur overlooking twilight Paris / walking the Cinque Terre trails / finding platform nine and three quarters at Kings Cross Station / gazing hopefully out to the Loch Ness waters in the Scottish highlands / walking the Charles Bridge in Prague at sunset / dipping ten toes in the glorious waters of La Côte d’Azur / savouring apple pie and runny custard on the cobbled streets of Stockholm’s Gamla Stan / getting lost in the canaled streets of Amsterdam / crying at the beauty of Julia Stone’s enchanting voice during an intimate concert amongst the ancient theatre ruins in Arles / riding the world’s steepest cogwheel train up the side of a 4000 foot mountain face in Lucerne / contemplating Stonehenge / scalding my fingertips on roasted chestnuts and mulled wine at the Christmas markets / champagning at the lofty tip of La Tour Eiffel /seeing, really seeing, the brutal beauty of Anne Frank’s words and experience in Amsterdam / tasting home-pressed wine in the back of an Italian’s shed on the coast / dancing in the back streets at the Fete de la Musique / soaking up the Joie de Vivre with wine, cheese and balmy friday nights at Les Estivales / biking to the beach / strolling through Hyde Park / lining up with thousands at the final Harry Potter premiere in Trafalgar Square / Portobello markets and Hummingbird cupcakes on a saturday morning / watching the changing of the guards / skipping heartbeats over the pink salmon Florentine sunset / eating fresh pasta in Rome / wine tasting on the rolling hills of Tuscany / sharing a gondola ride in Venice / ohhhing and ahhhing over Chagall’s colourful and dreamy works in Nice / knowing the Paris metro without map / meeting beautiful strangers / a million more untold adventures / That clear, pure, blissful, present, embodiment of complete, unbridled freedom.

On my final beautiful day in Montpellier, I sat in the oldest botanical garden (in all of France) and wrote down my wishes, and tucked my paper and peace dove inside the wishing tree.

As they say, every ending gives way to a new beginning. I hope, crave, need for my next adventure to be a beautiful, inspired, unwalked, sunshine-dappled, closer one.

With thanks from the bottom of my heart for for reading, commenting, flying with me these past months.

For a little while, this petite bowerbird bids you love, adventure, and au revoir

xx.

Moving on, I am now back in Montpellier after an amazing ten days exploring incredible Italy. When walking through the Place de la Comédie tonight, I welled with sadness and nostalgia. It’s the last time I will return here after a short trip, that is, the next train trip doesn’t have a return ticket. No matter how many times I say it over in my head, it remains difficult to believe I’ll be on that plane in less days than the fingers on one hand.

I have imagined that beautiful moment when I will walk through the gates and all the beautiful people in my life (or the few who will get up at 7am for me) will be standing. I’m torn between happiness and sadness about leaving.

But back to Italy – it was glorious.

Rome is such a juxtaposed city of past and present, with hectic, modern life playing out amongst marvelous ancient ruins (and skipping heartbeats worthy paper shops).

Florence stole my heart – I think I lost it somewhere between the cobbled, lantern lit streets by night, Brunelleschi’s Duomo and the pink sunset skies. Or maybe it got wedged in a mound of raspberry gelati, I can’t really be sure. The rhythm of Florence is beautiful – calm but buzzing, alive but not overbearing. And cliché tourist or not, strolling the Ponte Vecchio was magic.

I day tripped through the Tuscan countryside, visiting idyllic Siena (the Duomo must be one of the most elaborate interiors on earth), San Gimignano (referred affectionately as ‘SanG’ by me because the ~imignano part is ridiculous, but more commonly known as ‘Medieval Manhattan’ due to the tower houses that were built for better protection back in the middle ages. And it’s true – from a distance it does resemble the New York skyline), enjoyed a beautiful lunch and wine tasting with lovely Americans at an organic winery on the outskirts, before making it to Pisa to climb the (impressively wonky) leaning tower by sunset, overlooking the Field of Miracles. Yes, it is really called that, and yes, it was really that miraculous.

Then I moved on to Treviso, to stay with beautiful friends Bri and Chris. Bri and I had the perfect day in Venice – involving a gondola ride (worth every cent), climbing (taking the lift up) the St Mark’s Campanile bell tower to see a breathtaking view of Venice (but surprisingly, not the labyrinth of canals), a fizzing spritz on a Piazza, my first glass of Prosecco wine (it’s delicious) followed by a delicious dinner at La Zucca (that means ‘the pumpkin’) and after that, a bar to see live music.

I also had a tour of the infamous Fabrica and got to see an amazing documentary screening about Antipodes + the Q&A afterwards with its Russian film director, and Bri gave me a crash course in bookbinding (thank you!)

My final stop was Verona for a chilled day and a half wandering the gorgeous streets and taking a peek at Juliet’s house/the famous balcony (which was painfully touristy, but I guess still worth seeing). And a final cup of gelati just because.

In other significant news, I discovered what ‘Cibo‘ means in Italian (‘Food‘). How unremarkable… here I was thinking it meant something a little more fancy and essencish of coffee.

Love x x

PS – some photos from Venice.

I spent Wednesday night in Aix-En Provence, a charming southern French town just a couple of hours away from Montpellier by train. I had already visited back in June, but at that time I was sporting an arm sling and feeling a bit miserable, so I promised myself I would take my happier self back sometime before December. I’m so glad I picked Christmas market time.

There’s this strange contradiction about the markets – in one sense, they are gaudy and loud, lit with excessively bright white lights that hurt my eyes and overexpose the excited kids’ faces. There are metallic helium balloons and dodgem cars and magic shows and barbe à papa (fairy floss, lit. dad’s beard) which all make the centre of town seem like a bit like a warped, overcrowded yet lonely circus.

But then, the other end of the market street feels timeless and tasteful and… perfect. That’s the part with wooden huts adorned with holly and soft fairy lights, vast saucepans of steaming vin chaud (mulled wine) big enough to drown in, locals selling their hand-painted ceramics, wooden toys, bunches of dried lavender, boiled sweets, chewy nougat and marrons grilles (roasted chestnuts). This is the part where I roamed.

I sat on the edge of the water fountain, people watching, a sticky cup of vin chaud balanced wonkily between my knees and steaming bag of chestnuts perched on my lap. The heat of the bag scalded my thigh, but it was that nice sort of pain, and my hands were too occupied cracking open chestnuts to do anything more about it. Peeling away the shells, burnt flakes flew away while the furry, velvety bits slipped under my fingernails… and I was having a moment. The woody flesh – dense, nutty, the epitome of winter comfort. The vin chaud just as much so, spicy and steamy and sweet but tangy, the oil of the citrus rind coating my tongue, the woody cinnamon making my nose tickle.

Bliss.