A park that offers close access to a wide variety of native animals, excellent playgrounds, interesting walks through natural forest and is free? Blackbutt Reserve exceeded our expectations when we arranged to meet some unschooling friends at one of Newcastle’s best picnic locations.

The reserve is easily accessible from the road and offers enough parking for standard days. I can imagine the spots may fill up quickly on public holidays or weekends, but the small parking fee ($4.90/day) may prompt visitors to carpool or park elsewhere.

When we arrived, the reserve was full of uniformed schoolkids. The crowds initially deterred my girls from wanting to explore the playground, so we wandered around the perimeter of the main attractions until the classed left on their chartered buses.

While a group of schoolkids dominate the playground, we play in another section of the park.

Our girls start playing on the equipment once most of the kids have been herded elsewhere.

This park beautifully combines natural features with artificial ones to make a greater playspace for adventurous children.

After twanging a little tongue, these tall boxes emit a sonorous tone. I like the integration of musical instruments into playgrounds but find that after an initial experimentation, they're ignored by most of the children.

The girls race down the slide.

A small, second playground is located next to the kiosk.

This must be a popular spot for birthday parties, and the girls find tiny samples from the parties scattered around the grounds. Brioni selects two sticks to use as chopsticks in retrieving a small toy from beneath the gutter's grille.

When the girls retrieve the toy, they discover it's a pink ring and decide to give it to Calista.

Blackbutt Reserve is maintained by rangers who look maintain a number of wildlife exhibits. Each day, koalas are brought from their enclosure to a public area for petting and photos. Although we aren’t too excited about seeing animals in enclosures, the girls hadn’t seen some of the birds in the wild before, and the proximity of the animals was quite exciting.

While exploring the grounds, we meet an echidna intent on its own path.

The last we saw of the echnidna, it was camouflaging itself with the bushes.

A number of wallabies and kangaroos are kept in enclosures at the reserve.

I do believe the animals are kept behind fences for their own comfort — if not, they would be constantly chased by kids eager to pet them!

The emu comes over to see if we've got anything to offer it.

The girls find the emu's feet fascinating!

I'm more interested in capturing the colour of the emu's eye — such a brilliant orange!

There's a lot of variety in the vegetation on the reserve. Several tracks lead around the ground for those who prefer a longer walk. We stuck to the shorter circuit.

A number of brightly coloured peacocks wanders freely around the grounds. The girls love finding their dropped fathers.

Some of the native animals are kept in small houses. This one contains a wombat which we can see sleeping behind a big pane of glass with the help of a red light.

By pulling aside a wooden cover, we can observe the bees working on their honeycomb.

Several koalas sleep at the top of their artificial trees during the day — right at the height of our elevated walkway around their enclosure.

Observing the koalas' interaction with the rangers presents a moral conundrum for me. I don't like the way the koalas' natural nocturnal patterns have been disturbed by afternoon feeding, but I understand that their exposure to a greater number of visitors attracts funds that leads to conservation of habitat.

Calista peers through the flaps that lead into the housing of nocturnal native animals.

A lazy goanna was sleeping in its artificial cave. Usually we only spy these running up the trunk of a gum tree!

Although we've seen flocks of Gouldian finches in outback Queensland, this is the first time the girls have been able to appreciate their bright colours up close.

When it flew from one side of the cage to the other, Brioni was delighted to discover that the black cockatoo is hiding a spray of scarlet feathers on its tail.

The tawny frogmouth owl is a very common sight in many parts of Australia, but rarely do we get to experience one this close.

I was equally delighted with discovering such a wonderful park as meeting up with some familiar and new faces. Two other unschooling mamas took the time to join us at the park, and I loved hearing about their lives and how they were consciously managing their growth and their relationships — especially as two of them had older children. Although we pursue different lifestyles, we are united in common values, and this was enough of a foundation for a fantastic afternoon of intimate sharing in a great location!

It's been almost a year since I last met up with Erica. Although we don't see each other very often, we stay in touch online, and it's been wonderful to watch each others' life-stories unfold in marvelous ways.

Visitors to the Newcastle area should definitely put Blackbutt Reserve on their list of great free activities. Along with Speers Point Park (which remains in our opinions as one of the best playgrounds in NSW), these two attractions mean families with children shouldn’t bypass Newcastle on their trips up the NSW coast.

When not parking in front of friends’ houses or in designated camping areas, we tend to find our free overnight spots next to a playground in a quiet part of town. As well as being safe and well-lit at nighttime, playgrounds often offer amenities such as a water-tap, picnic table and sometimes electric barbecues.

With the bus parked alongside a playground, the girls can choose to play inside or outside as the weather and their mood suits!

While free-camping in an undesignated area, we keep our belongings contained in the bus. I don’t set up the awning or pull out a chair.

The girls use the playground as their backyard and we tend to only spend one night at the one spot. We’re friendly with the locals and before driving away, I make sure we haven’t left any traces of rubbish behind.

Parking at a playground is great for locals because our presence through the night can deter vandals. It’s also a great way to start conversations about the possibilities of home educating with those who have never met a home-schooling family before!

I found today’s visit at the New Gokula Hare Krishna Farm a refreshing encounter with organised religion. The Krishna devotees who live at the farm are an extremely welcoming group of people — offering their services and blessings without proselytising or extracting donations.

The 500-acre property is located about 60 km west of Newcastle in a beautiful part of the Hunter Valley.

Ever since our family stayed on a conventional dairy farm in New Zealand, I have found it morally challenging to purchase dairy products unless they’re organic. With Brioni living as a strict vegan for the sake of the animals that she cares for so deeply — something that she picked up from my own vegan phase, I brought us to this cow-friendly dairy farm to show her that it’s possible to produce and source cruelty-free dairy products.

65 cows and bulls are kept on the property. They're personally cared for by the Hare Krishna devotees and are relatively tame.

We quietly stalk each beast until one lets us get close enough to feel its nose.

We enjoy the rare opportunity to be so close to lovely cattle. Their tongues are raspy — like cats' — but variable in colour, according to their hide. Dark cattle have blue-black tongues, brown cattle have pale pink ones!

This is one of the few dairy farms in the world that doesn't cull its herd. We also appreciate seeing calves staying in the same paddock with their mothers! The principles of the Hare Krishnas mean that the cattle are tended for the duration of their natural lives. New Gokula claim that their dairy produce is completely cruely-free (as well as being organic).

The dairy cows are hand-milked each morning, and so they approach us happily when we come up to the fence to talk with them.

Before we visited the farm, I called to see if it was okay to just turn up. I was invited to bring the girls to the milking of the cows in the morning (from about 9) or attend any of the services or the feast that is offered daily — but Sunday’s program runs later than other days because of the discourse. We arrived about noon, which was in time for some of the kirtans, the discourse and the feast.

The main temple building was made from rammed-earth bricks 24 years ago.

Most of the building is rendered and painted, but the original mud bricks are visible at the very back of the building, in the dividers around the amenities.

We enjoy looking around the grounds while I wait for the discourse to begin.

An om symbol hangs from an archway of vines that leads to the temple.

A collection of little cow statues sits opposite the temple's door.

In one corner of the front lawn, we find the relics of an ancient playground. The girls are immediately drawn to the old-fashioned see-saw, although they first have to work out how to mount the board at the same time!

After the discourse, Johannes demonstrates his technique for spinning alpaca wool. His father was a woodcarver and taught Johannes his woodworking skills which Johannes employed in constructing his own small spinning machine.

One wall in the hall is covered with photos of all the cows (including their names) and requests for their sponsorships. It costs $1000 to sponsor a cow for a year.

After the final set of kirtans, the girls join us in the hall for the Sunday feast. We're the only Anglo family visiting here today — many devotees drive up from Sydney for the Sunday program — but the girls don't notice or comment on the heritage of the people around them.

I appreciated the friendliness of the devotees. The girls were spoken to respectfully. One devotee had homeschooled his children on the community for several years, and so he encouraged me with the path I’m taking.

The community who live on the farm demonstrated friendliness without the evangelical tones common to Christian organisations. We were invited to stay on the farm for the night (or two) as amenities are available for campers. I was told that the community was looking to expand their facilities so they could facilitate more farmstays, and although we drove away this afternoon, we’re welcome back anytime.

I know that any families who are travelling through the area are welcome to stop in — whether they just want to greet some friendly cows, park up for the night or learn more about Krishna consciousness. The New Gokula Hare Krishna Farm is warm and welcoming, and a beautiful respite from the city for those who want to get away!

Burning Mountain is a unique geological feature in Australia — and worldwide, even. It’s a coal seam that’s been burning underground for approximately 6000 years, and it sits just off the New England Highway north of Scone, NSW. Although there are speculations on how the coal was first lit — perhaps a lightning strike when it was at the surface — no one really knows.

We spend the night at the parking area at the start of the track to the top of Mount Wingen. Other travellers are also camping there for the night — situating themselves around the picnic tables and fireplaces — but although it's free, there's a lot of noise from the highway and it's hard to find a level place to park the bus.

The walk from the carpark to the actual "burning mountain" is probably a bit longer than the advertised 4.6km-return-journey.

A sign recounts the local Indigenous people's story of how Burning Mountain caught alight: "One day, the Gummaroi (or Kamilaroi) people to the north sent a raiding party to Broke to steal Wonnarua women for wives. The Wiradjuri to the west, who were friends of the Wonnarua, told them of the Gummaroi plans. The Wonnarua gathered all of their warriors and sent them to do battle with the Gummaroi. The wives of the Wonnarua warriors waited for their husbands to return. All came back, except one. The wife of that one started to worry. She went up high and sat on top of a rock cliff overlooking the valley to the south to wait for her husband. She waited and waited, but when he did not return she knew that he had died during the battle. She cried until she could cry no more. She could not live without her husband, so she asked Baayami, the great sky god, to kill her. Baayami could not kill her so he turned her to stone. As she was turning to stone she wept tears of fire which rolled down the hillside and set the mountain alight."

It takes our family two hours to complete the 5km. I'm so pleased that we've started tackling long walks again — and without me having to carry anyone!

Given that we're climbing to the top of a 550-metre mountain, the track is comprised of many low steps and is consequentially much easier on the way back than on the way there!

Areas where the underground fire has passed through show evidence of being baked from the heat.

The reserve must be used for cattle grazing because we see evidence all along the track — but no live animals. Someone moved this cow's backbone onto an anthill so the bones would be picked clean more quickly.

We start to find evidence of prickly pear along the track. Brioni is intrigued with the story of this invasive weed. It was introduced from Brazil to Australia with the first fleet of European settlers in 1788 and rapidly spread through the eastern states. Prickly pear was brought under control in the 1920s and 1930s with the introduction of cactoblastis caterpillars — arguably the world's most spectacular example of successful weed biological control.

A platform at the top of Mount Wingen provides a view of the baked soils.

At the summit, the dirt has changed to a bright red because of oxidation of iron compounds in the soils. The white is not ash, but a mixture of sinter, alum and sulphur that formed on the surface from the highly acidic gases escaping from the burning seam 30m below.

The site of the burning seam advances one metre each year, and its heat ensures nothing on the surface remains alive.

Aisha and Brioni are intrigued by the heat escaping from small holes in the gorund — although they're not enamoured with the sulphurous odours!

We’ve driven past this feature many times before as we’ve travelled along the New England Highway. I’m so glad that this time we took the opportunity to stop and explore Mount Wingan. The signs along the path provided historical, mystical, scientific and contextual stories for us to discuss as we climbed the summit. I’m also so pleased to learn that a 5-kilometre walk is not too difficult for our family — all it takes to keep the girls happy and walking are some well-timed calorie offerings!

If you’re travelling between Tamworth and Scone, make the stop for the scenic walk and enjoy the unique features and educational lessons of Burning Mountain!

It’s time for us to drive north again. We’ve lingered in Victoria ever since we arrived on the ferry from Tasmania in March, and now the weather and friends are calling us to northern NSW and southeast Queensland. Our time in and around Melbourne has been exceptionally good — mostly because we’ve spent so much time at the home of some dear friends.

Hagai and his daughter Tali have shared their home with us since early April, and we've loved being part of their lives!

Living alongside a schooling family has been a new experience for us. The girls have become meaningfully aware of days of the week and times, simply so they can keep track of Tali’s schedule! We transitioned into loose bedtimes so as to allow Tali a full night’s sleep and discovered new foods as prepared by Hagai. There were challenges with the constant anti-lice treatments and occasional clashes among the five girls, but mostly our lives meshed effortlessly.

It’s been wonderful to have a place for the girls to create wild paintings and elaborate games that last for days. “School” was a definite favourite — with Tali as the teacher, giving lessons on a blackboard! We welcomed the constant flow of other visitors to the Erman residence, and I appreciated the opportunity to grow my friendship with Hagai through many long talks about conscious relationships, parenting, worldviews and Confest.

(Ah, yes, Confest! I learned so much about Confest — as shared by committee members — that I feel quite invested in the annual event although we’ve only attended twice!)

We've been parking on the side of a suburban street for several months — quite a difference from our usual bushy campsites!

I loved the neighbourhood around the Ermans’ house and enjoyed the opportunity to take walks by myself — something I used to routinely do before having children. I even fell in love with Melbourne and all that it has to offer — although I do believe we’re skipping out before the weather turns unfriendly!

The only way we could drive away from Hagai and Tali is with the promise that we’ll be back. It’s been a wonderful time in Melbourne, we’re indebted to their hospitality and enriched by their friendship — there’s no way we’ll stay away!

The lure of free-camping directly next to a natural artesian hot spring was enough to drive us all the way to Pilliga, 100 km west of Narrabri. The girls love swimming, I prefer natural swimming holes, we all enjoy heated water — so this was a winning solution for us all!

In response to the town's diminishing water supply after several years of drought, in 1902 Pilliga sank a bore 560 metres and we can still enjoy its benefits today.

The bore has a continuous in-flow to the pool and an out-take on the other side, ensuring the water is always fresh. Once a week, cleaners come and add some chlorine (which is soon flushed out) to keep the growth of algae to a minimum — although the bottom and walls of the pool are still slightly slimy!

A shelter shades the pool from the harsh Australian sun and helps regulate the water's temperature to 37°C year-round.

This stop is one of the highlights of our drive north through NSW. Although it’s a small pool, it’s accessible, so close to where we parked, available at all hours of the day and night and populated by friendly campers and locals! Of course, it’s far away — pretty much in the middle of Woop Woop — but that adds to its allure as only the most determined make it this far.

Lana still loves the confidence her kickboard gives her and hasn't yet discovered how much more fun it is to swim unaided. Once I removed the flotation shapes from Lana's suit, she progressed quickly in her swimming skills.

We free-camped in the paddocks surrounding the bore baths with about thirty other rigs. Most of the other visitors were grey nomads, but all welcomed the presence of happy children in the pool without a fuss! Some of the travellers stay here for weeks, which surely is a great boost to the local economy.

Although we’ve driven through the area before, I hadn’t heard about the Pilliga bore before our friends Nathalie and Paul told me about the free-camp last year and confirmed the details with me when we last caught up in Melbourne. It’s wonderful to connect with other Australian travelling families because there are usually new places to explore along even the most familiar routes!

Our introduction to the #leardblockade started with being pulled over by the police.

We were driving at night on the rural road that leads from Narrabri township to Maules Creek when the patrol ute approached us from the opposite direction, pulled to the side of the road, waited for us to pass and then pursued us with its lights and siren on. The police officer was pleasant and friendly. He didn’t ask to see my driver’s license or give me a random breath-test. He chatted a little bit, asked if I knew where I was going and gave me verbal instructions on how to reach Wando Camp.

Cliff has been hosting the protesters' camp on his property since January 2013. When I asked how he coped with all the extra people, he replied with a wry grin, "When it gets to be too much, I go away for a little while. I couldn't do it if I had a wife. She'd be standing at the back step and worrying about it all!"

Clearly not many campervans drive down this road unless they’re heading to Cliff Wallace property to join the blockade, and the police like to keep tabs on who’s involving themselves in the protests. No doubt my license-plate number was recorded for future reference.

The Leard Blockade protesters are travellers, tourists, career protesters, retirees, concerned citizens with time on their hands, members of Greenpeace, delegates from ARRCC — individuals, couples and families. They’ve all come together to raise awareness, halt operations and make a stand against Whitehaven Coal’s proposed Maules Creek mine and other coal mining operations in the Leard State Forest.

The campers share kitchen facilities and pool resources and talent to look after whoever is on-site. The set-up is practical, organised and sanitary which helps enormously with contributing to the general well-being of the protesters.

Tents, teepees, vans and swags are laid out in the paddocks surrounding the shared facilities.

Although our time at the camp was so short, I participated in a non-violent, direct-action workshop where strategies were explained, analysed and offered to the protesters. Because I knew I wasn’t participating, I avoided the planning meeting for their latest protest, but I did hear enough to know that people were accepting the risk of arrest, fines and jail-terms for taking action.

It’s inspiring to be around people who believe so passionately in their cause — and are willing to suffer society’s consequences as a result. Future generations will judge these protesters kindly and scoff at the current policies that are disregarding the wealth of nature and culture that is bound up in the forests of our country.

My role at the camp this time was simply to inform my daughters of what is going on in the world outside our Rainbows and friends’ homes, and I feel that it would be beneficial to camp at this blockade or another similar protest for several weeks in order to truly contribute meaningfully. I haven’t yet worked out how to actively participate in potentially illegal protests, but I can certainly support other more daring souls by providing back-up at camp through serving and maintenance.

When we drove away, the police stopped us again. Two marked vehicles formed a mini-blockade at the end of Cliff’s road, and this time they wanted to see my license and asked where I was going. It was easy to answer their questions, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of being hassled — and this is something the protesters are facing every day.

It feels like the police are on the wrong side in this case — against the people! — and no doubt some individual police officers feel that way. However, until public sentiment shifts enough to affect political policies, the coal mines will continue to spread across our land — ruthlessly scraping away our forests, polluting our air and water, and exporting our nation’s resources. The Leard Blockade and others like it are necessary for our children’s future — I am convinced.

It was two weeks ago that we left our friends’ home in suburban Melbourne and now we’re back with friends again on an intentional community in the beautiful Numinbah Valley of southeast Queensland. The girls are happy to be playing with one of their best friends, and I’m happy to be reunited with one of my best friends too.

We've named the big cliff that overlooks the property "The Watcher" because it feels like it is overseeing all the community's activities with a benevolent gaze.

While there are so many advantages to sharing space and resources, living on an intentional community can be hard work! We participate in seemingly endless discussions to build conscious relationships, we maintain the gardens and chase livestock so that we build a greater degree of self-sufficiency, we join in the chores and add to the vision and in all of that — we build a love for each other that absorbs each other’s shortcomings.

I don’t know if anyone who has grown up in a traditional nuclear family can effortlessly adjust to community living. I believe that my past history of living in dorms and small communities in Africa, as well as all the communal living I’ve enjoyed since living on the road has given me a lot of experience, but I still have so much to learn! Our current combination of eight children and seven adults creates so many different relationship variables — as well as noise, mess, laughter and fun!

It takes time and work to get used to the constant kitchen chores. We adults need to learn to relate respectfully to the children who are still learning how to express emotion and communicate their needs and desires. Sometimes the practicalities of dealing with water, electricity and finances can highlight differences in opinion among the adults, but with an intention of overcoming the challenges, we all grow.

I don’t know how much of our family’s future will be spent at this specific community. But I appreciate the skills I learn in relating and offer my energy for the benefit of the future community members, knowing that it’s a fantastic investment for all.

Natural Bridge is an easily accessible part of Springbrook National Park and worthy of a visit for anyone coming through southeast Queensland. There’s no way that photos can properly share the beauty of being immersed in a subtropical rainforest, but I’ve recorded some for our own memories.

Four-year-old Delaney and I accompanied another family on a visit to Natural Bridge which is located on the back road that leads from Murwillumbah to Nerang. My other girls opted to stay at the community with their friends, but we enjoyed our leisurely walk around the World-Heritage-listed circuit.

At the start of the kilometre-long walk, Delaney greets the forest with a single hug. The air is noticeably cooler within the rainforest, and one of our party returns to their vehicle for a jacket before we continue on our way.

The roots of these ancient trees reach down as the vines entwine the trunk on the way up.

Lana stops to decipher the maps that are pegged along different stages of the walk. Probably because of our continuous use of maps in our travels, Lana already has an awareness of what the signs mean.

The rainforest is a delight to wander through. We stop often to trace the paths of the vines into the canopy and to examine the colourful fungi sprouting from the floor litter.

During our visit, Cave Creek — which feeds into the Nerang River — is quite low. I'd love to come back when the water is higher!

The walkway through the rainforest to the creek is well-formed with proper steps. By choosing to make the circuit in a clockwise direction, we've managed to skip most of the uphill steps.

The natural arch was formed by the Cave Creek eating away at the rock. Visitors to the park are now prohibited to swim in the pool.

The cave underneath the rock is home to enough glowworms that tour operators bring visitors here after dark. I've made a mental note to bring the girls here one night!

The waterfall is magical, but, again, I wish to see this when the creek is in flood.

Only a few specimen trees are labelled, but I always appreciate reading the signs on the ones that are. My girls like to stop and read all the signs, so when we go through a national park that has lots of informative signs, we gain much more from the experience.

An upper pool of Cave Creek is tranquil in the shade.

A stand of hoop pine trees line the path on the way up. This indigenous species only grows naturally in a few locations in Australia.

Although I’m disappointed that not all four of my girls came along to explore this short rainforest walk with me, I feel confident that I can lure them here with talk of glowworms and the novelty of a night excursion. Natural Bridge is set in an exceptionally beautiful part of southeast Queensland — even the drive there is spectacular! Those who love rainforest walks and lush scenery should definitely make a point of coming here.

It makes me weep. Despite all my best efforts, despite my deliberate releasing of my own long-held ideas of beauty in conformity, despite our great variety of friends who model a range of beauty styles with confidence, despite all this — one of my girls is shackling herself with poor self-image.

In the past, Calista hasn’t cared much about what her hair looked. She’s been happy to cut it for herself when she felt it was getting too long, and she certainly didn’t care what others thought about her natural hair’s state! In short, she wasn’t affected by others’ opinions and simply lived life as a happy little girl.

Last September when she first got her rat Silver, Calista's hair was styled with a plain cut. She has always hated having it brushed and hadn't yet worked out how to reach around to the back of her head to detangle the dreadlocks that were forming.

A win-win solution for us all was to separate her hair into sections and encourage it into dreadlocks.

And then it started. She started listening to what others thought. A friend told Calista that she didn’t need to have her hair separated in order for it to form dreadlocks (true, but it looks more messy), so Calista removed the elastics. But she still didn’t want to brush it.

My main issue with Calista’s hair really has nothing to do with her. It’s always what others think — of her, of me as her mother, of the perception of being neglectful. In this matter — society’s idea of acceptable beauty — I am clearly still lacking the self-confidence to stand up for my children’s autonomy without caving in to peer pressure.

So I talked with Cali about her hair. I asked her if I could “fix” it. It took about a month of gentle nagging, but then she acquiesced.

And with her permission, I divided up the hair again and wrapped it so it could dread "neatly".

I was happy. She was happy. Life went on.

When we were at the Rainbow Gathering in Tasmania this February, I was serving at the food circle when two separate people gave me the heads-up that Brioni had cut Calista’s hair. Mentally prepared, when I saw Calista, I greeted her with love and affection and remarked positively on her new style.

All of a sudden, Calista's hair was *very* short. But she has such a cute face that the pixie-cut suits her well, and I felt delighted that our hair-brushing conversations were over.

Over the last months, as Calista’s hair has gotten longer again, I’ve fallen back into the pattern of subtle nagging. I ask if I can cut it again, I ask her if I can brush it, I ask her when she’s last brushed it, and I offer her hats to hide the mess.

Then another — older — girl made particularly cruel remarks about Calista’s hair. In response, Cali started hiding behind hats and hoods, allowing only her family and close friends to see her with her head uncovered.

Calista feels happiest now when her head is covered... Thank God it's wintertime!

My heart has broken for her. She’s just six!

When I started writing this post about Calista’s hair and her sudden awareness and self-consciousness around it, I thought I was detailing how one jealous girl’s remark about Calista’s mid-length hair — how it’s an ugly cut and makes her look like a boy — could transform a bright six-year-old into an image-obsessed shadow.

However, in detailing the chronology of events, I’m suddenly aware of my own part in Calista’s formation of her opinion that her hair isn’t good enough! Ugh! I have been subtly poisoning her against herself! I have been teaching her and her sisters that others’ opinions are more important than one’s own self-esteem!

So, my six-year-old has a poor self-image. I’m aware of this now. I’m going to stop blaming the little girls who made the unkind remarks that contributed to Calista’s poor opinion of herself. I’m going to start listening once again to what I’m saying and examine my own actions around my children — especially as I talk about the girls to others.

In this I am fully culpable. Let me continue to wake up to my own insecurities before I inadvertently pass others on to my daughters.

I hope it’s not too late. By changing myself now, perhaps I can redeem Calista’s self-worth and build her back up into the extraordinarily happy-go-lucky fairy she has previously been. I must be the change I wish to see in her.

Our lives are full of amazing contrasts. Most of the time we’re camping off-grid, but sometimes we get to stay in a fancy city hotel. This last week at a Gold Coast resort apartment was one those amazing adventures that I treasure for its relative extravagance in our otherwise frugal lives.

In January, a friend offered us the use of her furnished apartment for the last week of her year-long lease. She was pregnant and planned to move out before the end-date so that she would be fully settled in her new accommodation before the baby arrived. When I said yes, I wasn’t actually sure if we would be able to make it to the Gold Coast for those dates, but circumstances brought us here easily.

Our apartment is on the third floor. After constantly climbing the stairs, I feel empathy for my friend who opted to leave this gorgeous location because she was close to the end of her pregnancy.

A Gold Coast holiday is almost a cliché. Families from Australia and New Zealand travel here year-round to escape cooler weather and experience the beaches and theme parks. We’re accustomed to beach-living, and I’m not quite ready to take the girls to theme parks, so our stay was all about the resort and its facilities.

We were excited to share our time in the apartment with another family. The girls love living with friends, and I always appreciate the extra freedom that I gain from living with other adults. We could take turns with taking the kids to the pool or supervising them in the apartment. It was possible to go out for groceries with only those kids who were interested in the outing, and we all could generally relax and simply live as we wanted.

The pool has easily been the best attraction at this resort. All the pools have a small, heated spa attached to them — it's the perfect place from which to supervise the kids without feeling the cold!

The girls love the novelty of the slide, and it gives them a natural opportunity to interact with the other kids (mostly Kiwis) who are holidaying at the resort.

Brioni continues to invent new ways of coming down the slide.

Every time we come to the pool, Lana insists on bringing a small collection of toys with her. (Sometimes they're hard to keep track of.)

On the other side of the resort, another set of pools is attached to a well-frequented restaurant.

A large splash-pad playground is almost too cold for the girls to enjoy, but they don't want to miss out on the opportunity to explore everything!

The huge, tipping bucket slowly fills and the soaks those playing below. Although I thought I was standing out of its range, I got soaked by the sudden influx of water splashing up from a drain!

It’s been a very relaxing holiday, as we haven’t felt pressure to do anything other just follow the kids’ leads. I’m certain that the key to communal living with another family is definitely in a shared parenting-style. I need to feel confident that the other adults will deal consciously and respectfully with my children — however emotional or needy they may be presenting at the time. If I’m not certain that this will happen, I cannot fully trust my children to another’s supervision lest they are misunderstood, bullied or harassed.

The novelty living in an apartment is as enticing as the pool. The girls enjoy watching DVDs on a large screen while I appreciate the opportunity to indulge in as many long, hot baths as I want!

One day, Aisha and a friend discover they can form a menagerie of shadow-animals with their hands.

This week was a natural time of co-parenting and learning. In sharing our lives with another family, there are inevitably conflicts between the children, but we didn’t experience anything too drastic or irreconcilable. I’m thankful to have good friends whom I trust and that trust me with their children, as that gives me respites in this solo-parenting gig I’m becoming accustomed to.

When it's time to check out, I discover that we can't drive anywhere (temporarily). So, we'll have to hang out at the pool some more!

Thank you to the friends who shared our Gold Coast adventure with us, and thank you also to the friend who offered us the apartment in the first place! We all enjoyed our time — our Gold Coast holiday experience! — and now are happy to leave the city for quieter places once again.

It’s a lazy day in our little housebus. The girls have requested a Bed Day. This means that I leave our bed up and we don’t drive anywhere. (With the bed still in place, I can’t drive!)

The girls love to share their experiences — even screentime! — with each other, and a bed-day provides the perfect environment for it.

We’re back to being by ourselves. This is deliberate. We consciously acknowledge our need to regroup as a family after spending time in communal living, and so I drive to some beautiful spot to park until we feel it’s the right time to move on.

Rather than getting cabin-fever, on Bed Days we settle into our small space and enjoy the closeness. I’m so thankful that we can live harmoniously in such a small space. I don’t know if I have the energy to pursue this sort of lifestyle with a more boisterous lot.

We cook a little, eat lots of fresh fruit, cuddle and play. I love Bed Days too. They give me a chance to read or write and reconnect with those I love the most. I hear stories about the times we were apart. I witness the girls’ interactions as they play. I tease and tickle when it’s wanted and help keep everyone quiet while we listen to a historical novel in audio format.

When people ask me how it’s possible live in such a small space, I reply that the secret is to enjoy each other’s company — thoroughly. Bed Days remind me how much we do enjoy the company of our family, how we are all friends, how we do all work together (mostly), and how great our life is!

The girls love a Bed Day. And so do I.

Our last parking spot has been at a road-side park outside Uki. It’s one of the closest free-camps to the Gold Coast, but only for the self-contained. If you’re needing amenities, you’re better off staying at the roadside park north of Murwillumbah.

Across the road from the Uki sports oval, a large grassy patch serves as a temporary stop for overnight parking. There used to be a small playground on-site, but that's gone and instead, small mounds make terrific hills on which young BMXers can practice their tricks.

This isn’t an official parking area, much less an official camping spot. Because of that, I usually only like to spend one night here — even two nights feels like I’m stretching the friendship with the locals upon whose goodwill I’m depending. We’re careful to leave the park tidy, even collecting other errant rubbish that may be laying around.

Delaney loves collecting the seeds from the black bean tree. By the time we drive away, she'll have a plastic shopping bag full them tucked underneath her seat.

There’s a picnic table that’s quite popular during the day, and a few charred circles show that visitors have lit fires while camping here. A rooster is strutting around on the grass, and although it’s very close to the Kyogle Road, it’s still a lovely location.

Although it's a bit of a steep scramble, it's possible to go down to the Tweed River that flows alongside the park.

I collect water for our washing-up. Whenever we're adjacent to a fresh-water source, I prefer to use that for washing and save our tank water for drinking.

As I sit peacefully by the Tweed River, my eye is attracted to a series of ripples. It's a platypus! There's plenty of time to get the girls and quietly observe the platypus when it surfaces before it swims out of view. (As it's not yet 2pm, this platypus clearly hasn't read the guidebooks which say it should only be active in early morning and evening times.)

So many of these unofficial camping/parking spots are being closed off to travellers. Every time I drive through Uki, I check that this one is still available to us. I hope it endures!

Rituals are important in marking the significance of a change in life, and although women often celebrate upcoming births, before today I’d never witnessed a ceremony that celebrates the conclusion of a woman’s childbearing years. Nimbin-based Doula Kirrah Holborn gave my beautiful friend Hellena a special ceremonial blessing to honour Hellena’s new stage of womanhood.

Almost three weeks ago, Hellena was in hospital undergoing a tubal ligation. After eight children, she and her partner Currawong feel that their family is complete. When Kirrah heard about Hellena’s operation, she shared that she had been learning about sacred closing ceremonies for post-natal women and offered to perform a ritual. As it happened, I was around when Kirrah turned up at Hellena’s house!

Here’s what I saw of the ceremony.

We start by walking together to the peak of Mountain Top. This is a sacred section of land just behind Nimbin Rocks. Indigenous people have spoken to Currawong and Hellena about the stories of this land and the spirits that still inhabit this place.

Close to the top of the hill, a huge Moreton Bay fig stands as a sentinel over the property.

The landowner slashed the grass recently, and we find the peak cleared nicely for us.

Kirrah and Hellena start laying blankets and pieces of material on the ground. Long, skinny sarongs are placed in horizontal lines along the length of the blanket. Later they're used to wrap individual parts of Hellena's body.

Once the groundcoverings are completed, Kirrah explains the simple ceremony to Hellena.

After Hellena is lying down, Kirrah uses a pinch of smouldering sage leaves to smudge the air, ritually purifying the location and Hellena's body from the company of malevolent spirits.

Kirrah starts at Hellena's feet, blessing them for all the places they've been, all the places they're still leading her to, and for the role they've played in her childbirthing years.

Once she's finished speaking the blessing, Kirrah wraps Hellena's feet with the scarf that is lying underneath them.

Next, Kirrah stretches up to bless Hellena's legs, rubbing them as she does so.

After wrapping the legs, the next section of Hellena's body is her belly — the childbirthing centre. With a gentle massage, Kirrah speaks blessings on this part too.

Throughout the ceremony, Hellena lies still with her eyes closed, fully relaxing into the massage and blessing.

Once all Hellena's body is wrapped, Kirrah moves around to the top of the head and gently massages Hellena's temples, gently talking all the while.

The sun is slowly disappearing over the peak of the neighbouring hills as the ceremony reaches completion.

Hellena's body and head are fully wrapped and supported by the heat of hot-water bottles. She feels warm and enclosed within the wrappings, and Kirrah massages her gently.

Kirrah slowly removes the hot-water bottles and unwraps the scarves from Hellena's body, allowing the late-afternoon air to once again cool her skin.

Now fully unwrapped, Hellena revives herself with a drink of water.

Hellena embraces Kirrah in gratitude for the peaceful and validating ritual.

The ladies chat as the sun sinks behind the hills and we feel the pull of home calling us back down the mountain.

Back at home, Kirrah temporarily wraps Hellena's belly with a Bengkung binding. It's a long piece of cloth that's wound around the abdomen in the style of Malaysian women who use it to promote postpartum healing and recovery.

In the bathroom, Kirrah sets up a small altar of crystals and beautiful, natural treasures. The room is lit with candles and decorated with fresh leaves and flowers.

During our absence, Currawong has filled the bath with hot water, almond oil and a sprig of spearmint. Kirrah adds almond milk, honey, and rose petals before Hellena sinks into the scented water.

After rubbing her hands with mandarin oil, Kirrah gives Hellena one last blessing. She already smudged Hellena's naked body with sage before Hellena stepped into the water, and we appreciated the new scars on Hellena's abdomen that indicate where the surgeon cut into her body to sever and cauterise her fallopian tubes.

I appreciated this simple, affirming ceremony. Kirrah was gentle in blessing and massaging Hellena’s body, honouring Hellena for her childbirthing experiences and also for the new stage of non-fertility that Hellena has deliberately entered into. I saw that Hellena really appreciated the energy that Kirrah gave her in the ceremony and came away feeling relaxed and honoured.

Kirrah said that she learned the steps for the ceremony from Jenny Blythe, and that it would be easy to adapt this ceremony to suit a range of women’s life situations. If you’re interested in using the steps of this ceremony to honour a woman’s permanent transition from childbearing years — whether through tubal ligation, hysterectomy or childbirth — it should be easy to use Kirrah’s technique as an example to follow.

In Australia, child passports are valid for only five years. So I recently started the process to apply for new passports for the four girls which includes getting the pictures taken.

We’re not allowed to smile for the passport photos, and so I think it makes everyone look like solemn refugees. Still, it’s nice to have a record of the girls — especially in contrast to their photos from five years ago!

I'm too close to the girls to see the physical resemblance between their faces. Can you?

Even though Delaney’s passport is valid for nine months’ longer than her sisters, I decided to get hers renewed at the same time so all four girls are on the same cycle.

Now we’re set for our trip to Europe next month! Last year, I received an unexpected bequest from my deceased grandmother’s estate, and I’m using it to fund our flights and expenses overseas. We’re hoping to visit family members in Beijing and London as well as tour a little bit of western Europe in a campervan.

It’s exciting to plan the trip with the girls, but it also increases their appetite for travel. They’ve already started asking to visit the Statue of Liberty, and all I can say is “at the right time, you’ll see it!”

After four years on the road, we still tend not to linger for long when we’re visiting friends. I’m well aware of the adage “fish and guests smell after three days”, and I know that my four extra children tend to add a stress to most households. Even when we’re in a group dedicated to living in community, I’m aware that we all need time to learn to navigate through the many different relationship combinations, and so I like to remove our family in our bus and explore other local parts for a while.

The diggers have already moved in to begin construction on an extension for the community house on a property in southeast Queensland.

I don’t always have to set an arbitrary date for driving on. Sometimes external pressures such as shopping or appointments create a pressure to be somewhere else. Other times I make arrangements to do something fun or visit another set of friends so that the girls are leaving one fun household for another. Usually we like to retreat somewhere to regroup as a family — often a national park where the girls can play outside freely.

As the girls mature, I share with them the true concerns of relating within a community. They understand that other children may not be used to sharing their spaces, they know the value of carving a quiet retreat for themselves and they recognise when they need time away from their friends.

At the community where we’ve been parked for almost a week, Brioni is expressing a strong desire to leave. Although she blames her clashes with one other child for her unhappiness, the other parent and I know that she’s simply missing her close friendship with Aisha. At one point I was able to explain calmly to the other child that although Brioni’s outbursts seemed to be directed at him, he shouldn’t take them personally as they were rooted in Brioni’s own feelings of loss. When Brioni returns to a better emotional space, I know that she, too, will be able to recognise the truth of this and in time, she’ll learn to look within herself for the cause of her unhappiness rather than seeking to blame someone else.

A key to conscious parenting is learning to separate myself from my children’s emotional outbursts so that I can continue to provide empathy, compassion and support without spiralling down into a bad mood that is generated by insecurity or low energy. Our children learn that they can remain unaffected by others’ negativity if they see us modelling a calm, safe refuge (even if inside we’re cringing!).

Last week, four-year-old Delaney asked me for a drink of milk at the end of an uneventful day of playing with friends. She’d happily gone along with whatever was happening and now because I sipped at the milk before handing her the cup, she rejected my offering with a huge emotional display. We were in a “safe” household — one that is not judgemental or noise-sensitive — so I sat with Delaney and let her thrash on the bed. She cried and kicked out at everything that touched her, and I had to remove some objects for their own safety and her own, but otherwise I just sat and casually reached out to Lana to remind her of my presence. Finally she calmed down enough for a cuddle and soon fell into an exhausted sleep. I believe that her outburst had nothing to do with the drink of milk but was simply a manifestation of the emotions she had been controlling all day. Until she was with a safe person (me), she had kept herself under control — always behaving appropriately — and at four years old she had done very well! While I was talking about the outburst with my friend, she remarked wryly that this was similar to what she experienced at the end of every school day while she was sending her children to school.

I believe that if I had stifled Lana’s outburst she would have hidden her emotions away to explode another day. My other option was to remove myself from her so that her negative energy didn’t affect me, and sometimes — honestly — I don’t have the energy to deal with a horrible temper tantrum. However, on this occasion, I was buoyed by my friend’s supportive presence and — especially knowing that I wasn’t being judged on my 4yo’s outburst — I found the serenity and compassion to remain with Delaney until she was back to being her usual cheerful self.

Every time I am able to remain present with my children — without letting their negative energy pull me into their dramas — I demonstrate the conscious relating that I want to see in them. I strongly desire that my girls to learn to see others’ pain without feeling responsible, to analyse themselves for the core issues that create their unhappiness and to live harmoniously with those who are may be less emotionally intelligent. Compassion is best learned through demonstration — compassion for those who are horrible, compassion for those who say mean things, compassion for those who don’t understand that another’s journey can take different turns — and so I must first live that principle in real-time.

“Knitchen” is a wonderful term — evoking kitsch within a natural combination of knitting and kitchen — and I had to see it for myself! Coordinated yarnbombing is a beautiful thing — and even more so when it’s influenced by the colour-savvy eye of artist Loretta Grayson. Today we visited Warwick Art Gallery to see the Knitchen exhibit — a retro kitchen entirely covered in fibre!

A doily-covered fridge is part of the collaborative exhibit that took eight months to complete.

Jumpers & Jazz in July has been running for several years in Warwick. Locals cover the trunks of the street trees in fibre — some are properly yarnbombed, others are wrapped with fabric. It’s a fun and interesting exhibit and — along with the workshops, musical gigs and car rallies — the town overflows with visitors who come to participate in the experience.

The exterior columns of the art gallery are decorated for the festival.

A tree-trunk in the carpark is covered with patchwork squares.

The trees in the courtyard are wrapped up.

I first heard about Jumpers & Jazz and Knitchen from Grayson’s Instagram pictures. When I saw her photos of a rainbow chair and then learned that a whole kitchen set-up was being yarnbombed, I knew it would be beautiful! She includes a rainbow spectrum in many of her artworks, and I wake every morning to the cheerful sight of her trees pasted alongside our bed in the bus.

I love the colour combinations on all Loretta Grayson's artworks. She has the special knack of choosing complementary colours that stretch across the spectrum!

The retro furniture is completely covered by crocheted and knitted pieces.

A line of biscuits sits on the side table next to a rotary telephone. Even the phone's cord is covered.

Next to the fridge, a stove, sink and counter are completely covered. The colours for each piece were coordinated and the wool was provided to the many contributors before being joined together for the exhibit.

A tassel evokes water falling from the faucet into the woolly sink while a selection of fully-wrapped cutlery and a crocheted plate sits in the strainer.

Artwork on the walls and a hanging lamp complete the look in the little, utilitarian knitchen!

The table is set for two, with toast on offer and a roast chicken ready for carving.

Grayson's beautiful rainbow chairs are my absolute favourite item in the exhibit.

Even the floor is covered by a checkerboard of knitted squares.

An open cupboard stores extra crockery and the quintessential Aussie staples of Vegemite and tomato sauce.

We love the intricacy found in the details — like in this bowl of fruit.

Before we drove out of Warwick, we cruised up and down the streets to enjoy the different tree jumpers. The girls’ imaginations were caught by the variety of wraps on display, and we’d love to participate in something like this one year!

There’s still time to visit Jumpers and Jazz and the Knitchen exhibit in Warwick. The festival continues until July 27th, and if you miss this year’s event, mark your calendar for next year which is sure to be even better!

Looking for a fantastic place to play on a natural watercourse on a hot day? A visit to Basket Swamp Falls can include free-camping in the adjacent Boonoo State Forest as well as fresh-water fun in northern NSW.

Spotted with granite boulders, Basket Swamp consists of over 200 hectares of heaths and sedges that filter the water that eventually flows into the Clarence River.

Basket Swamp National Park is about 20km north of Tenterfield and part of the granite belt’s wondrous region of untouched beauty. The isolation of this national park — coupled with the lack of “proper” facilities — means that it remains underused and almost pristine.

Although it’s dirt, the track to Basket Swamp Falls is graded and suitable for all vehicles in dry weather. Although we planned to spend all day at the falls, the changing weather made me feel nervous. I didn’t want to get bogged on a muddy dirt road in the middle of nowhere — however beautiful it may be!

The mist is still hanging over the watercourse as we scope out the top of the cascades.

The colour of the strata on the rocks is beautiful in its detail.

Shallow pools slowly fill to the brim and over the side to the rocks below. We're visiting during a dry spell and there's very little water coming down the creek.

On a hot summer's day, this would be a great place to hang out and play in the cool water. Today we're hopping over the shallows, intent on staying dry.

Instead of clambering down the rocks which were pretty slippery, we elected to take the short trek via a fire trail from the top of the falls to the bottom. The track is maintained for use by 4WD park-ranger vehicles and so is the equivalent of a very steep dirt road.

Below the falls, we cross one of the many small creeks that empty the nearby swamp.

In the background, Basket Swamp Falls trickles down the rockface. There's almost a constant water flow all year round, but its quantity varies enormously.

The girls spy this little beach — the perfect place to have a picnic while others play in the water — but the weather sends us scurrying back to the shelter of our vehicle.

As we start back up the track, this mottled bark catches my eye.

The mist has rested on a low gum leaf, leaving it sparkling.

Driving along Lindrook Rd to and from the cascades, we spotted wallabies, kangaroos and colourful parrots. A longer stay in this isolated park would surely reveal more native wildlife although a large sign gave notice that regulated hunting is permitted in this location. I’d like to come back again when the weather is conducive for swimming, and I know the girls will agree!

Our beautiful friend Sage built herself a house this year. The rustic little cabin is made entirely out of recycled materials, timber milled on site and rocks from the creek that runs out the front of the verandah.

This is the house that Sage built. It took about six months from start to finish. She started by constructing the roof on poles and then built the walls.

Although Sage did most of the construction by herself, she says she was thankful to have the counsel of others who have experience with building and the loan of hand-tools for the job.

While Sage uses the pristine creek for drinking water, she collects rainwater with a small tank for washing up. The roofing was recycled from another shed on the property and the paint is slowly washing away, so Sage says she was getting green flakes in her water supply and decided to not drink it.

An old french door is turned onto its side and serves as a top-opening window.

The timber and rock walls are sealed with a mixture of recycled fast-food cooking oil, linseed oil and methylated spirits. It gives the cottage a warm, almost yummy scent. A single solar panel on the roof provides an adequate amount of electricity for Sage's modest needs, including this sensor-operated light that's situated outside the door.

When the door to the cabin opens, it reveals a single room well insulated from the extreme temperatures and heated by a combustion fireplace.

Two burners, a sink, a 12-volt cooler: the kitchen facilities are basic but adequate for a single person.

The other side of the cabin is Sage's living/sleeping space. The upper interior walls and ceiling are all insulated with batts.

By carefully selecting panels of roofing tin that are already curved, Sage has a distinctive roof for her verandah.

Sage's home is in such a beautiful spot on the property, I'm not surprised she's chosen to call it "Peace Cabin".

Sage's Peace Cabin reflects in the calm water of the creek where platypus come out every afternoon to feed.

This is the lush view from Sage's cabin — a visual respite from the dry paddocks surrounding the house.

A Rainbow Gathering was held on this land in April 2012. The cabin is very close to the rock circle of a sacred fire.

The girls love playing in and around Sage's cabin. They find the rock walls easy to climb and soon work out that they can exit via the windows!

Brioni discovers the drum that Sage made by wrapping packing tape around a recycled tyre. With the addition of a cooking pot, Brioni expands her percussion options.

We enjoy playing around the creek. It flows across flat rocks and is hardly deep enough for a dip, but the water is fresh and clean.

Our family really loved visiting Sage at her Peace Cabin. She connected well with the girls, involving them in her tasks around the property, and in return they regaled her with stories of what they’ve been learning during the year.

I’m thrilled that my girls are growing up with a range of role models from which they can be inspired — including a woman who constructed her own amazing home. Sage appreciated our visit and has invited us to return anytime. Now that we know where to come, we look forward to visiting again in the future!

"Love is the path" it says on the side of the rock outside Peace Cabin, and the journey that has brought us to visit Sage is certainly testimony to the truth of that statement.

I love how I connect easily with some special people. They understand my view of death, they are continually working to separate themselves from the fears and conditioning of earlier life experiences, and they use our conversations to share the truths that are important to them. André is one special soul, and I’m so glad I got to get to know her on her property outside Tenterfield.

When André comes to meet us while we're visiting Sage, she and I end up connecting on a special level and talking for hours.

André and her partner Jan own a 2000-acre property outside Tenterfield where they hold a vision for making it a healing refuge for men and women who are dedicated to conscious self-work.

This property was the original site of the Tenterfield Rainbow Gathering in April 2012, one that we missed because we were travelling in New Zealand at the time. If we had been here, it’s possible I would have connected with André two years ago.

All the girls are thrilled to get to know André's dogs, but Brioni especially loves spending time with the animals. André is a registered kennel for various dog breeds, and she inevitably has puppies for us to admire.

I'm fascinated to discover this large kewpie doll statue around the back of André's house. She calls it the Deity of Avelon — the property once called Rainbow School of Happiness — but I do some research to discover its origins are very high-profile. This is one of twelve such dolls designed by Brian Thompson and displayed as part of the closing ceremony for the Sydney 2000 Olympic Games.

In the summertime, André and her partner sleep outside on this gorgeous four-poster bed.

André is creating a healing space here and invited me to lie on the couch while she played the harp on my belly so its vibrations would resonate throughout my whole body.

Calista loves this little fairy-toadstool set and asks me to photograph her on it.

André’s special energy — the way she works with the animals around her and the way that she interacts with my girls — is definitely unique. The girls feel really connected to her and are already asking when we can return. I think Brioni would have been very content to stay here indefinitely — all the animals would certainly keep her busy. It’s always comforting to have another “safe” stop on our itinerary, and André has definitely created it here for us!