Visiting at Sellicks. So powerful to be in a space where I feel congruent and usual. Sitting on the verandah with tea, Gorgonzola and fresh figs. The plum cake is kept to a dull roar. We watch the water moving behind the tall terracota agave spikes, and the sun as she finds the water. Shared memories and weaving new fabric.
Two storeys of sandstone honeycomb. Three more of bisque fired earth holding the scrub and esplanade up out of the beachfront. Walking the beach between canine landmarks, Joan tells me about dragon eggs as we walk over the rounded pearls of brick, granite, sandstone and glass.
We swim. It has been a long time, too long. I relearn about turning my back on the waves and the exhilaration of floating over the smooth ones and ducking the foam.
Dogs and girls walk to Judith's in the evening chill. Another open hearted home facing the agave, old timber and high ceilings, cajun chicken, Irish potatoes, fresh beans and tzaziki.
The two black standard poodles share their turf with active disinterest. Except at night, carefully dabbing my forehead with an 'all's well' at strategic hours. Breakfast in bed with a pot of tea, wholegrain honey and a friendly book. Achingly beautiful sitdown music by Gurrumul.
Second breakfast in Willunga. Finding the Woodside Cheesewrights, Paris Creek Dairy, fresh fruit and sun warmed crowds. Dogs and babies make their own adventures between the legs of shoppers. Good coffee, shopping with zero degrees of separation from the makers and growers. Meeting the culinary bedrock of our region. Judith finds a chilli bush for me. On the way home we rescue the full complement of red kari pumpkins from a roadside stall.
Home again with salty hair and a full tummy. I think I have passed my first classes on beach, retail and cooking and am very thankful for the university of the third age.