Woodes, Forever After (or, that time we went to Tasmania)

We were both going through some stuff. Postpartum depression was at an all time high, all of my uni assignments were due, I’d just finished up another project and was in a bit of a creative slump. So what if we just… went to Tasmania?

What about the baby? We’ll bring the baby. We’ll bring Elle’s mom. They can hang out.

A week later we’re staying in a house in the hills full of the most beautiful silk Persian rugs I’ve ever seen. It’s quiet outside.

Maps on the table, red wine, hike planning, checking the direction of the sun. How many lenses am I actually fit enough to carry on a full-day hike?

The house shifts at night, old pipes sighing in the walls, things peacefully easing into place.

The moment comes early in the morning. I’m having a cup of tea on the worn wood table, watching the early morning mist roll across the field as the first sun peeks over the hills.

Elle just woke up. No makeup, not styled. Just Elle. I tell her to put her shoes on and grab her jacket, while I get my camera and flash. We’re going outside.