The stillness in the scene above was so crisp you held your breath. There was no movement to speak of, aside from the tiny rustle of a skink or wren in the undergrowth every now and again. The air was a comfortable temperature, too warm for this time of year but not unpleasant. It was overcast, making walking easier without the scorch of sunlight.
There was a little blip in my fortnightly Sunday Substack routine this past month; the end of March was at full capacity for me (plus some) and I didn’t write. I am quite overcommitted in life right now and it all came to a head with a few weeks at the end of term where I had a bunch of stuff on with family and at work, a librarianship essay due, and I became fairly unwell to top it off. Sucummbing to illness was both a blessing (I had no choice but to stop) and a curse, as I had to submit my librarianship essay before we went away camping, meaning I was seriously cramming when I was well enough (barely) to get back to it. I’m not sure where I’m up to now, but today seems as good as any to get back on track.
Soon enough the school holidays came around. I handed my essay in, things at work found some sense of equilibrium, and though my cough lingered we packed up some things and headed to Gariwerd, the Grampians, for a week with some friends. We’ve been home for a few days now, and I’m feeling somewhat calmer and more grounded, wondering how I can prepare for the next onslaught of life that will no doubt hit.
All this got me thinking about the quarterly planning I do religiously at work in an attempt to keep on track, but never in my home life. Is it something that might translate? I wonder at what I might build into each quarter: time outdoors, a camping trip, books to read, some life admin I suppose, a week off social media, gardening… cleaning the bathroom? What would you put in your quarterly life planner?
Our annual Gariwerd trip comes at the perfect time, the beginning of the Autumn season, and offers an opportunity to pause after what is generally a busy start to each year. It feels essential to hold moments like this delicately, for fear of otherwise being swept away by daily demands. During the next quarter we’re considering one more camping trip before it gets too cold, though with the unseasonably warm Autumn weather we have been having here it’s hard to imagine cooler weather, though I’m sure it will come.
During our time away we walked (with kids aged 9, 11, 12, 14, 15):
〰️ day one, Bun Nah trail from Zumsteins to Fish Falls (return)
〰️ day two, Murdajoog / Mount Abrupt carpark to Signal Peak (return)
〰️ day three, Wonderland carpark to The Pinnacle (my knees and the 9 year old didn’t quite make it)
〰️ day four, a wander around Troopers creek with a bunch of very tired kids and adults!
Gariwerd is a spiritual place which is evident in its rich history and landscapes. Traditional lands of the Jadawadjali and Djab Wurrung people, who have cared for the significant mountains, rivers, forests, rocky outcrops, skies, animals and birds found in this special place for tens of thousands of years. The energy here is not to be underestimated. I highly recommend a trip to Brambuk in Halls Gap for all the information you require for a respectful and light-footed trip within Gariwerd, if you plan to visit.

Other things…
I began the audiobook edition of The Place of Tides by James Rebanks after going off audiobooks for a while. Really enjoying it.
I’ve been listening to Sarah Spring every day, with this track on repeat.
A few notes written in the margins of my diary for the next quarter: one week off social media, one camping trip, a pause to evaluate what needs to happen in our Autumn garden, one weekend with nothing on, one drawer or cupboard cleaned out, one special family adventure or dinner or activity, a reintroduction of my morning routine…
Even more so after visiting the geographical wonderland that is Gariwerd, I have been playing around the edges of trying not to define nature and wildness as something that happens out there. When I’m at home, I am determined to see myself as part of nature in my everyday life. But I keep coming up against this feeling that when you are truly in less-touched spaces, it becomes impossible to translate that feeling of immensity, of vastness, of the tiny-ness of ourselves and the minutiae of our lives back into the suburbs. Here, confined by the walls around me and a fence, and a fence and a fence beyond I can only lean on the edges of my messy garden where things are more restrained and domesticated to feel a sense memory of what wildness might be. I know this is nature, too, but it feels distilled. What do you think? What would a wild place think of a quarterly plan?
And that’s quite enough for now.
Until next time, travel light.
Ohh how beautiful those walks and time in nature look! A trip to Gariwerd on our list xx
Hi Lucinda, lovely post. I too live in suburbs close to CBD. Looking at skies, birds and big trees are my restorative for teh beginning of each day. Great remedy for when everything looks to small and static ! The thought of Quarterly planning for my life makes me weak at the knees , but then I don’t have kids to organise! So great you are taking them our bush , best sort of adventure for growing humans!