what is there to complain about in life?

A quote from Mountain Dad as we ate our breakfast in the back garden this morning. 

What is there to complain about in life?

Maybe it was the mimosa's talking, maybe it was the Fathers Day love in the form of a hand painted triptych that we'd gifted him, but Shea was feeling expansive and content this morning. There were even tears.

 Granted, tears are always pretty close to Mountain Dad's rugged surface, but it's still validating to elicit their salty seepage. And truthfully, I'm inclined to agree with him. Despite the stressors of moving country amidst a global pandemic, the quirky creaks and ailments of our bodies, the uncertainty of funding this adventure in a town where no-one knows our reputation, you know, besides all that, we aren't complaining. 

As summer rolls round, I'm reminded of the things I love about being Australian and living in this baked land. Incredibly friendly and laid back locals, an outdoor lifestyle that renders all public spaces frequently congested. Warm air on a summer evening. Riding home on my bike, in the dark, in a t-shirt. The warbling of magpies. 

What is there to complain about? 

Day hike that turned epic.

Collecting firewood, Shea-in-Australia-with-an-old-car, style. 

Left on my pillow one evening so it greeted me when I went to bed

Camping with cousins

Ade with the Xanthorrhoea

Prepping for a work hiking trip