Naomi Bulger: messages in bottles

A gardener came today to cut back the vines beside our house (yes, we have the best landlords in the world). While working, he inadvertently exposed this sweet little mama. She refused to budge from her post, even with all the noise, and blades whirring millimetres from her nest.

Luckily, little mama bird and her nest survived. Later in the afternoon I snuck back out to visit what she was so carefully guarding.

I love to look at the search terms that lead people to my website. Many of them are straightforward, but some are strange, others are whimsical, and every now and then they are downright bizarre.

I like to think about these people. Why were they searching for this term? Why did my little blog appear in their results? And what was it that inspired them to actually click through to my blog?

Following are my favourite search terms from this month. For a bit of fun, I have illustrated them by typing those same search terms into Pinterest.

I think the outcome is rather sweet, don't you?

How do people find you? What are your favourite search terms?

Day 1: guests for the weekend - dear friends long missed; hugs and more hugs; exploring the Central Markets; eggs for leisurely breakfast at an old cafe; loading up with fresh cheeses, tomatoes on the vine, hummus, beetroot dip, radishes, still-warm baguettes and a tray of glowing nectarines; talking, talking, talking together; making lemonade with lemons from our tree; picnic on the lounge room floor; stroll to Jam Factory to look at local art; throwing sticks for the dog in the park until he hides in the shade under protest; good food and dry riesling over a long and lovely meal. 

Day 2: reading the paper in the sun by the swimming pool; painting my toenails blue; fresh orange juice; breakfast of French crepes around the table; a hit-the-spot coffee from a cafe in Glenelg; strolling down the jetty to watch the divers and fishermen; walking along the beach, feet in warm sea water; small children chasing fish in the shallows like they chase pigeons in the park; a beer at the pub; fish n chips from newspaper cones outside in the sun; a spot of beachside window shopping; home for more fresh lemonade; watching Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra sing in Anchors Aweigh and placing bets on whether or not "He's going to dance in the fountain in this song"; a sad farewell. 

Honestly, the talent and creativity of some people never cease to amaze me. I look at what they do and think, "How did you even come up with that?" Let alone make it so wonderfully.

How brilliant is this typewriter, made out of used packing boxes by Stacie Stone? Take a look at her fabulously-named Etsy shop, Little Teeth Marks. 

Following an oil spill off the coast of New Zealand, people from all over the world knitted sweaters for penguins affected by the spill, to stop them from ingesting the oil when they preened themselves. Operated by yarn store Skeinz, you can follow this adorable campaign on their blog, The Yarn Kitchen. 

Ever read a book and formed a perfect image of the character in your head? John Januzzi styles contemporary editorials of literature's heroes and heroines on his blog Textbook. What would Alice in Wonderland wear if she were alive today? How about Jay Gatsby? Eliza Dolittle? Pictured above is how Miss Havisham of Great Expectations might dress today. (Found via Honestly WTF)

Artist Jennifer Collier creates amazing sculptures of household objects from recycled paper. The content on the paper itself often provides the inspiration for what Jennifer decides to create, and she says her work is about "giving new life to things that would otherwise go unloved or be thrown away."

I know I've gone heavy on the "art made out of paper and cardboard" this week but, seriously, it's not my fault people are so talented! I couldn't resist just this one more. Artist Brian Dettmer has been nicknamed "the book surgeon" because of the incredible sculptures he creates out of old books. 

All over the interwebs this week people have been talking about being grateful, another blessing of Thanksgiving, I guess. I am grateful for the many people who bring such imaginative beauty to my world each day.

We got home from Melbourne last weekend to discover the jacaranda trees were in bloom up and down our street. Aren't they just summertime special? 

We don't do Thanksgiving in Australia and, before I moved to New York, I simply couldn't understand the appeal. This is because the sum total of my Thanksgiving knowledge came from television sit-coms. To whit: 

1. Family members were forced to come together and pretend to be happy, during which old arguments were invariably resurrected 
2. Food preparation was exhausting, either resulting in the cook becoming mentally unstable, or frozen turkey being served up for dinner, or both

Then there was the cultural shame that stemmed from the realisation that I would be "giving thanks" for a land that had actually been stolen (a shame with which as an Aussie, I am already all too familiar).

It has been two years and one month since I left New York, although it feels like another lifetime ago. I have plenty to be thankful for and I wouldn't change a thing, but it is true that I miss that place and deeply miss my friends in New York, every day. 

And despite all of my misgivings, New York taught me the meaning of Thanksgiving. Or at least a meaning, one that resonated with me. 

On Thanksgiving morning, my friend Misha (who I call my sister - she's the one in the black & white apron) and I traipsed up to Wholefoods on Bowery for supplies. Mish could happily spend a day in Wholefoods, if I let her, and on other occasions I had been known to actually sit down in the aisles to take a load off while Mish perused baby beet salads to her heart's content. But after a relatively brief (for Mish) two hours of shopping, balancing paper bags bulging with groceries, we trundled back home to cook up a friendly storm. 

Outside the wind really picked up and the first snow was just around the corner, but inside was all warmth and happiness and friendship. 

Mish and I lived in the same building, on Thompson Street in SoHo, and we had other friends also in our building, so we shared kitchens. All of us were travel-orphans: blow-ins from the mid-west, the south, the UK, the antipodes... and on that day we became each other's family. 

Our apartment doors stayed open and the building filled with our laughter and conversation, the music we played, and the many mingled smells of roasting turkey, mashed potato, sweet corn, green beans, pumpkin soup, cranberries, hot home-made apple cider, cinnamon and pie. My dog Oliver and Misha's cat Mr Lee wove in and out of our legs all day, in food-scrap heaven. 

When we finally uncorked our bottles of wine and sat down to eat, it was anywhere you could stake a spot. On the edge of the couch, on the floor, on the window sill, and we ate until bellies bulged and food comas threatened. 

There was no bickering, the work and the food were all happily shared, and the thanks we gave were for one another and for our loved ones far away but close in our hearts. I was filled to the brim, as much with thanks as with food. 

Thank you, America, for teaching me the absolute beauty of setting aside one day - just one special day - to do nothing but cook and eat and love. 

And happy Thanksgiving, from me to you. xo

ps. Just looking at these pictures makes me tear up a little bit, I miss my dear friends so. I'm not alone, am I? These days, so many of our friendships are scattered across the globe. Are you missing someone right now? 

It was one of those gentle, magical days. A gift. We were in Nice, France.

We wandered through the Old Town until I found the perfect striped straw bag I had been searching for, then took it with us to the open-air markets. There we bought olives, strawberries and enormous green grapes, warm from the sun, and ate them as we walked. Down at the beach, sinking through pebbles, the girls dipped their toes in the Mediterranean Sea. 

The day grew hot. I left the family swimming, and escaped for one of those perfect, lonely explorations that are best to be had in an old, foreign town. If a narrow laneway appeared, I took it. If steps curved around the corner, I climbed them. I passed shrines to the Mother Mary, washing strung from building to building, and stepped in and out of shops - refreshingly cool like caves - of olives and lollies and crisp, white linen. 

Way up high in the distance I could see a waterfall, and the cool sparkle of its water was like a beacon. I asked a man, "How do I get to the waterfall?" and he answered, "You mean the castle," and pointed the way. The climb was long, and my throat dried with the heat. At the top, the pathway branched back into trees. Between them I could just see glimpses: now the ocean glinting far below me, now circles of terra cotta rooftops, casting patterns in the view. 

The waterfall cascaded over barely-visible stonework, almost all that was left of the ancient castle. I sat on the edge of the pool where the water plunged, grateful for the soft mist that blew into and over my face. 

Back down at the beach, I found my family splashing in the shallows in front of a row of blue and white striped chairs and umbrellas. Lazily, we drained one iced tea after the other, then wandered home as the sun set. 

But it was more than the tea that refreshed me. Sometimes, even in the company of those you love the most, a breath of solitude can revive a weary spirit. I came out of those few hours of exploring Nice alone like the girls came out of the sea. Each of us was new. 

(How about you? Do you ever need to take 'time out' during a holiday?)

On Friday Mr B and I took to the road (again) and drove 1500 kilometres in two days. That's not even close to a record for us, but it was still bloody exhausting. We do love a road trip, but this one somehow left us feeling old. 

On the other hand, what a wonderful weekend it turned out to be. So wonderful that I completely forgot to take photographs, except this one from the car. 

We stopped for dinner along the way at a pub in Nhill (pronounced Nil, I think), that looked positively derelict from the outside but inside had a delicious menu with things like duck crepes in hoi sin sauce, fish served up with cous cous and minted yoghurt, and an Asian style vegetable stack. You won't understand how welcome this was unless you've travelled in outback Australia where, more often than not, burgers, steak sandwiches and chicken kiev are the full extent of the menu for mile upon lonely mile. 

Other highlights... getting out of Adelaide just in time to avoid the 38C day (will someone tell Adelaide that it's not even summer yet?); spending nearly two hours by myself exploring the fascinating Tutankhamun exhibition before it closes forever next week; wandering alone through Carlton Gardens, just one minute from my very own home (that one day I will live in, I'm sure); exploring the Melbourne Arts Centre with my fabulous friend Tonia while catching up on months of friendly gossip; cheap n cheerful Chinese dinner with friends; a morning visit to the Kangaroo Flat bakery for old fashioned cakes like finger buns, vanilla slice (aka "snot blocks" by Mr Glamorous B), lamingtons, chocolate eclairs and all kinds of other country-baked goodies; a family gathering in Bendigo; kids on sugar highs doing laps of the kitchen on scooters; chasing goats out of Gran's falling-down old house; a call from Olivia (aged 4) who missed out on the fun because she was sick: "Can you drive past our house and wave at me before you go back to Adelaide?" And we did.