Anzac Day

The first time I was ever truly moved by the stories of war was on school camp in year 7. I had not, in my mere twelve years of life, grasped the waste and horror of a war until I stood inside that war museum in Canberra, reading the names of thousands of people I didn’t know and the stories which belonged to them. I remember crying a lot, shocked by the brutality. Stunned with outrage. Muddled with disbelief. For the first time in my life the naivety of childhood met the realities of the great wide world, alarming me with everything I didn’t know. I cried hot tears most of the morning, but tried my very best to hide them because what cool person cries over a whole lot of boring history? Anything which threatens the coolness of an almost teenager really needs to be avoided at all costs.  Everyone knows that.

It stayed with me for days though, the feelings I had, and I will forever remember it as one of the monumental days in my life I felt myself grow up. Eighteen years on, I still get choked up every time I hear The Last Post, both for the men and women who suffered and still suffer through war and for humanity at large for doing this to each other. War is as complex as it is horrific, and I will forever pay my respects to men and women who lost their lives at its hands, and to those who were left to live without them.









Anzac Day always makes me high on patriotism and nothing says I am a proud Australian like baking a batch of Anzac cookies – Made with quinoa flakes instead of oats (don’t judge me) because I’m trying to support Joel in his paleo ways, even though I’m a die-hard bread and butter girl. That’s love, right?





There are bare-feet babies in our backyard, the smell of BBQ wafting through our house, Bon Iver in the air and laughter as our neighbours arrive. These are the days I so love.

Leaving you with a quick Friday photo dump – my small Instagram happies of the week (theredtent if you want to follow the feed).



Great big happy long-weekending sweet friends. See you back here when I’m a whole 30 years old.


















Big gummy smiles. They’re the best. My God I love that boy.



2 Responses to “Anzac Day”

  1. Renae

    A precious Anzac reflection this year, I was making Anzac biscuits with my kindy class, trying to lightly touch on the history of the day, the soldiers and the sacrifice. One of the children said, “what is a war?”… I could see that they all shared this sense of confusion. I had to fight back tears as I thought of how proud my grandfather, a prisoner of war in WW2, would have felt to know that his generations’ efforts and sacrifices had brought us this far. It was a very foreign concept to this innocent generation, and I think the generations gone by would be happy to know that. We are so blessed.


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