Melbourne. This is my city. Opera. Noodles and dumplings. Beautiful theatres ablaze with lights and glamour. Tiny lane ways, the circulatory system of my city, never intended for prams and barely wide enough for pedestrians. Hidden treasure. Street art, gallery art. Smell, sound, sight, taste. Jazz. Fashion.
Oscha Alto Eventide
Baw Baw. This is my mountain. Toboggan spills over with gear, baby snug and warm. Gorgeous little village, beautiful slopes and the pomas. Oh the pomas. Family weekend of adventure only possibly because we carry. Snow play. Kids learn to ski and we all rediscover the thrill of hurtling down the mountain. Keeping baby close is heavenly. And so is 45 minutes of solitude boarding down the runs.
Oscha Starry nights, Cloth of Kin
Mornington Peninsula. This is my playground. We walk through creeks and through gullies. We scamper over rocky coastline and through rugged bush. Sand castles, rock pools and sticky ice-cream walks along piers. We play. We breathe. Little fingers collect coastal ornaments, parents walk hand in hand. The beauty is not restricted to summer; we are blessed with adventure during hot summer days and bitter, gale-force winters.
My city is beautiful and the adventure starts as soon as we open the front door. The most difficult decision is this: who will be lucky enough to wrap?!