Farewell: The Farm

There was always going to come the day

When we had to say goodbye

But be that as it may 

It's still hard not to cry 

From the towering gum trees

To the lily-pad speckled dam

The slopes, the bushland, the valleys

All made for a rich tapestry of land 

Just like the crops it nurtured 

So too did we grow

For 4 generations we blossomed 

All calling The Farm 'home'

We'll carry with us the countless memories

This family treasure holds

A place that was cherished by so many 

Because it's seeped into our blood and bones

No more will this land see our toil

No more will this land see our laughs

But it shall forever remain sacred Cassidy soil,

Farewell The Farm, always in our hearts.

The concept of "slow blogging" & why its my new mantra

Source: Uploaded by user via Peter on Pinterest

Forgive me bloggers for I have sinned – it’s been 7 days since my last post.

Personally I am not surprised, this lapse has been a long time coming. I’ve been having an internal wrestle with the whole concept of blogging for about 3 months now. There have been times I felt my hand hovering over a big metaphorical “CLOSE” button, willing to walk away from it all without a backwards glance.

Blogging, as much as it has brought me (and I have been very blessed along this journey!) is no longer able to sate my creative desire, and disillusion has been creeping into my consciousness for many reasons.

I discovered that blogging was beginning to feel like a chore, or worse – an unpaid job.

It was fate then that yesterday I would stumble across a blog post by author Anne R Allen entitled “The Slow Blog Manifesto...and 8 Reasons Why Slow Blogging Will Help Your Career, Your Love Life, and Protect You From Angry Elephants” and I had me one of my very own Oprah-style “A-HA!” moments.

Everything made sense, especially these points below that Anne articulated so perfectly, it was if she had phone tapped into my stream of thought.

"The average life span of a blog is three years. But you want your writing career to last longer than three years, don’t you? A neglected blog hanging in cyberspace is worse than none…. So you’ve got to plan a blog that’s going to beat the odds. A slow blog is more likely to do that.”

It’s the ideal solution – I can still blog when I feel I have something worthwhile to share, but thankfully eliminates the pressure to post regularly, the stress that I’m not interacting enough on social media mediums, and the guilt that I’m not reading as many other people’s blogs as I should be to maintain established networks.

Most of all, it saves me from halting altogether and frees me to write when I feel I have something worth sharing. It also opens up a much needed chasm of time that I can dedicate to my other writing goals. Namely my novel, which leads me to the next sage suggestion for slow blogging:

“If you spend every day working on your blog, you’re going to neglect your novel. When you neglect your novel, you’ll forget why you wanted to be a writer... Writing nonfiction—which is what you should be writing on your blog—uses a different part of your brain from fiction… When you’re on a roll with a novel, and have to stop to write something perspicacious on the subject of sentence structure, you can stop that flow dead.”

The thing that makes my heart sing most of all is losing myself in creative writing, yet blogging has been halting both my progress and my imaginative flow. And thanks to Anne, I now know why.

I’ve been dedicating most of my scraps of spare time to the creative writing pursuit and while I have been buoyed with the feelings of joy this act brings me, I’ve not been able to embrace the act as freely as I wish I could. There is a little devil sitting on my shoulder whispering that I’ve been neglecting my blogging responsibilities which leaves me ill at ease. This ties in with the final point that sums up perfectly why slow blogging will be my cyber saviour.

“Trying to blog every day is impossible to keep up, so you’ll constantly feel guilty. Guilt is bad for your mental health.”

The writing goal posts have changed for me. When I started blogging 3 years ago it was basically because I craved a creative outlet and it was the perfect platform to not only distract me from the everyday tedium and tiredness I faced as a first time mum, but to help me find my voice again. I’m so grateful for that, but it’s time to tackle fresh challenges and dust off old dreams that require more dedication without guilt strangling my inspiration and imagination.

So while I will remain in awe of those bloggers who can successfully post daily witty pieces, I personally am all for adopting Allen’s advice and choosing to re-model myself as a slow blogger. This more relaxed mantra will both save my sanity and inspire me to pursue and produce my best.

A Conversation With The Queen

Dressed in his best dark navy suit, a young, 20 year old banana farmer named Des Cassidy, stood silently in the formal receiving line at the Coffs Harbour Town Hall.

It was April 1970, and the Royal Yacht Britannia had sailed into my old home town, carrying on board Queen Elizabeth, Prince Philip and Princess Anne who were touring Australia to commemorate the bicentenary of Captain James Cook’s discovery of the East Coast of Australia.

After mooring their regal vessel amongst the infinitely smaller craft at the Coffs Jetty, The Queen and her companions made their way to a Civic Reception, where my father waited nervously, with local dignitaries to welcome Her Majesty to this small coastal town.

Normally a farmer, as hard-working as my father was, wouldn't be amongst the usual selection of local luminaries invited to pay homage to the Head of State. However, as President of his local “Rural Youth Club” (which was basically an organisation that kept country kids from mischief and gave them the chance to socialise with other isolated farm children) my dad Des had been hand-picked by then local MP, Matt Singleton, along with Secretary Robyn Dean, to attend.

And while he also wasn’t on the scheduled list of introductions to be made that day by the Shire President, something had caught Queen Elizabeth’s eye.

You see, days before this historic event my Dad had come out second best against a cane knife. As a result his arm was encased in a sling, bound by heavy bandages.

Ever inquisitive, it was this sight that saw Her Majesty gravitate towards him.

Queen Elizabeth grimaced in pain as my Dad recounted to her (and again later to Princess Anne, who also approached him) that a serious banana farming accident had resulted in him almost severing his thumb after bracing himself from the fall against the sharp knife.

“And how are you feeling now?” she inquired with all the care of a mother and politeness of a Royal. After assuring her of his health, Her Majesty offered a final smile and well wishes before continuing on with the procession.

And while it may have been an event that transpired over 4 decades before it is still a memory that my father Des cherishes with great pride. After all, there are not many who can claim to have held a conversation with The Queen!

My dashing Dad Des, with Robyn Dean, on the day he met the Queen

A night at "The Voice"

If you and I share social media circles, then it is no secret I am a HUGE “The Voice” fan! So you can imagine my delight when I was offered the opportunity to attend a live show on Monday night, complete with the red carpet VIP treatment!

Here's a little highlight recap of this fabulous, full on night of fun:

The Judges
The energy that these four consummate performers bring to the stage is not only electrifying but also supremely nurturing. They truly do have not only the contestants best interests at heart but also the fans. During Ad breaks it was not uncommon for them to interact with the crowd, Delta and Keith especially going to great lengths to meet and greet eager fans, and always apparently happy to stop and chat.

There is no denying each has a dynamic presence: Seal is larger than life, tall, well built and oozes charm off camera as he does on it; Joel is like a pocket rocket, bursting with energy and charisma, just as much as you would expect a true rockstar of his calibre should. Delta is simply divine, there is no other word for it. I’ve never understood how this once darling of ours could have coped such unwarranted criticism and if you saw the way she happily engaged with the public on Monday night you’d likely think twice before blurting out anything other than praise for this music princess.

And finally, Keith – swoon! He has a humble swagger and a persona that just radiates warmth. His mother in law, Mrs Kidman was in the audience as well and we all melted a little more when he went straight to hug her upon his arrival!

The Performers
By far the most consummate performer of the series for me has been Darren Percival and thankfully he did not disappoint on Monday night. He has such a radiance about him, emanating joy and appreciation in all he does that you cannot help but be captivated by him. That and the small fact this man can raise a roof! The crowd sure saved its loudest cheers for this star!

I was also drawn in by Diana Rouvas enchanting performance, Adam Martin has a voice as smooth as velvet and Sarah DeBono and Ben Hazelwood were other outstanding performances on the night. I’ll continue to remain divided by the chameleon that is Laykn Heperi though. There is no denying that he is easy on the eye (even more so in person!) and while I could listen to him sing “Jet Plane” on constant rotation, there seems to be limited material for him to nail.

A special mention should also go to audience "curator" (for want of a better word!) Michael Pope - this is one funny man who knows how to keep a crown entertained during the lead up to the show and in the ad breaks. Many laugh out loud moments came from this behind the scenes guru!

Being able to witness live the group performances from Team Joel and Team Keith was an epic thrill. Joel is a born entertainer – his stage presence has no equal! Keith and co just lured you in like a good ol country song should do. I got swept up in the moment in both pieces and should probably hope the camera didn’t catch me screaming and singing along in utter excitement – it may not have been my most flattering look…

The Company
What made an amazing night even more special was being able to share this night with some fab people. The chance to catch up with two people I sadly get to see rarely these days, as well as sharing this event with my gorgeous big sister was bliss. The hugest thanks goes to Brett for providing the VIP tickets – which saw us with seats so damn close to those glorious big red chairs I damn near hyperventilated with glee!

Finally, love or loathe this type of show, I hope you will agree that there is so much that should be applauded about The Voice.  Not only is it responsible for unearthing some seriously brilliant musical talent in Australia, but I adore most that it is all carried out in the right spirit, with none of the snark you can see in other similar shows both now and in the past. The mentors (LOVE that they are not labelled Judges) perfectly combine a nurturing environment with a constructive arena for stars to flourish under. There really is a lot of love in the room and it carries forth through to the audience. 

A night at "The Voice" most definitely does not disappoint. If you are anything like me I guarantee you will leave the Live Show you feeling pumped full of adrenaline, admiration and adoration and singing the whole way home!

Grateful for awkward introductions and the art of writing

Sitting in the sun, chatting with a fellow Playgroup attendee recently, I was introduced to a new lady, who’d come along to enjoy a slice of adult conversation, served with a side of sanity.

“Donna’s a writer!” Sharon had exclaimed, after swapping the usual introduction essentials with the new Mum.

Surprised, my first reaction was to scoff into my home cooked slice and offer a hasty retraction from the bold statement just announced. I felt the fraud police might just swoop in and escort me away with such sweeping generalisations used in conjunction with my name.

“I wish!” I exclaimed, before proceeding to explain that while I had the pleasure of seeing my name in print a few times, and harboured grand desires to one day see a book brandishing my love sweat and tears on the shelf of “all good bookstores near you” I was under no illusions I had earned such a title.

“It’s more like 'wannabe writer’” I’d joked, hoping to clear things up before being asked for the name and title of any imaginary novel.

But Sharon, bless her, was quick to jump to my defence, telling the Mum of the time she excitedly, accidentally stumbled across one of my articles in a magazine.

I was quiet for a moment while the conversation swirled around me. I reflected on the way words had made me feel again, what joy coursed through me when a sentence, a paragraph, a chapter blended together seamlessly all of my own doing. With a vengeance, my love for fiction writing has come bubbling back up to the surface and I am consumed with a need to write that has been dormant for far too long.

Countless times, I’ve discovered I cannot even walk past my laptop without it, much like a magnet, luring me in. The story document stays perpetually within reach, always ready for a quick edit or addition of text.

There was one day recently, when my boy was in day-care, that I sat down to churn out a few paragraphs and suddenly realised three hours had sped by. Other times it is indeed only a sentence or two that can be squeezed in around the daily chores of life. But no matter the size of time I can dedicate its way, it’s never far from the forefront of my mind.

Suddenly Sharon’s voice cut back into my thoughts.

“Are you actively writing?” she asked.

And I thought back to my laptop, sitting on my kitchen bench and felt that familiar itch to be reunited with it, so I could continue to create my make believe world with words that were flowing so freely through me it felt as if there was metaphorical tap that had been turned to on.

I nodded.

“Well, you are a writer” she told emphatically. And I smiled with unashamed delight. For that is all I have ever wanted to be.

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