It's that time of year again.
The blanket basket is overflowing with deliciously warm throws, with a few flung over each lounge, ready to wrap & warm chilly bodies.
Sandals have been replaced with gumboots and soft leather shoes. Sun hats with knitted beanies.
Lola, your flannelette sheets are out, and Maeve you are sleeping on the same sheep skin I slept on as a baby.
Empty tea cups can be found in every room, and hearty meals are favoured.
When I remember to, I burn candles throughout the day, and a roaring fire keeps us toasty every evening.
Once again, it has become our duty to head to the bush every other day to collect kindling.
This time last year, Maeve was busy growing in my ever expanding belly, and I had to catch my breath to keep up with Lola.
This year, with Maeve propped on one hip, arms flapping with excitement, and Lola racing ahead to find and snap the biggest twigs, certain she will make her papa proud, I am constantly reminded of just how special this season really is.