Bedrooms & Brogues.

As I was drooling over pics of Julie's rearranged bedroom the other day it occurred to me that I've been in Julie's bedroom & I've been in Pen's room but I haven't reciprocated  ~ so.  Here is my bedroom ~ which is so much more than a bedroom.

It is large enough that at one stage Cait had her bed on the wall opposite us because she was afraid of the dark & did not like to sleep alone!  Not sure why I bothered as mostly she just got in with us anyway.  Sleep has never been that child's favourite occupation.

The walls & floor are Hoop Pine ~ which starts light & mellows to a golden yellow colour.  I prefer it lighter ~ but as a major remodel is not happening any time soon I have to live with it.  The walls are marante [which I have probably not spelled correctly], a rejuvenated rainforest timber, & a rich gold/red in colour.

This is our 2nd story so the windows look through the tree canopy as the house itself sits on the edge of a hill that slopes down to the water & a little gravelly beach comprised of mud & mangroves & coarse sand.  It has a nor'east aspect so even in the middle of summer or winter it is generally a pleasant room to be in but it is only in summer the angle of the sun creates the big sunshine squares on the floor.

The Chinese camphor boxes hold bulky winter clothing & extra bedding ~ oh, & my bible & prayer journal because here is where I have my prayer & meditation spot just now.  Marlow likes my chair too.  I can sit here with my feet comfortably propped on the windowsill [or cill, as Pen says] & gaze vaguely through a haze of sunshine & leaf to where the green translucent water gurgles between the propped roots of mangroves.  This morning the heavy sough of the sea & a crackling wind pulsate through the room.  There is dancing light & birdsong & a thick haze over the water.

As we have never had neighbours we have never felt the need to put up blinds or curtains, preferring to enjoy the night stars & rising harvest moons in all their glory.  Only the full moons are a little difficult as so much light falls across the room it can be difficult to sleep.  And the cats go ballistic, chasing shadows!

Anyway, this morning as I drove the girl into work she complained she is being twitted about her accent. True, she sounds like nothing recognisable but hey, she lives in this house.  And part of the problem is, of course, that neither her father nor I sound recognisably Australian either.  Which comes from our parents.  Which puts us firmly in the immigrant camp of Scots & Spaniards.  While the heavy accent was not passed along, nor was a decidedly Australian accent & certain words, certain phrases the accent falls in foreign places making us sound ~ well, strange.  I think she just needs to get used to it ~ & as I pointed out I would much rather have a daughter who pronounces dance more akin to donce or dunce or dahnce, than the strinish da~ance.  However I draw the line at fush'n'chups .  We have no New Zealander heritage & goodness knows where she picked that up from.  Confuses me no end!