Bumpin' ... Weeks 22 & 23 with Jack Johnson and Friends

St Helena lookout above Byron Bay

Over the Easter break I travelled to my mother's home to care for her post-surgery. The nights had cooled and mosquitoes buzzed in the hundreds at the river house after the recent rainstorms. I hadn't planned on venturing away from the house much, mostly to take the short drive to the next coastal town to purchase groceries and home again to make comfort food: Roasted pumpkin soup; steaming chicken and corn soup with grated ginger and egg ribbons; roast duck stuffed with dried apricots, pine nuts and cranberries and cinnamon spiced warm apple pancakes.

Main Beach, Byron Bay

As I hadn't planned on a holiday, I did not equip myself with my usual Canon 6D camera. As a result, the images you see in this post were taken using a tiny, lime green lightweight Sony Cybershot camera. 14.1 megapixels, compact, smaller than your wallet and lighter than a mobile phone. Byron purchased it last minute at the airport some twelve months ago- An $80 impulse buy. I wasn't thrilled about wasting money although it has served us well on shorter road trips... Which brings me to the current Byron Bay road trip: The busy city drive made by Joe and B from Sydney to greet me at my mother's before heading off to Blues Fest.

Byron and Joe exploring the backstreets of Byron Bay

Joe and I take in the incredible vista of Pat Morton lookout, Lennox Head

Trying not to inhale the dust during Joss Stone's performance

3.5 cheeky monkeys listening to funky beats and husky voices belt out well-loved tunes

It was at Blues Fest where I relaxed to the smooth lyrics of my first love, Mr Jack Johnson. It has been one of the top ranked activities on my personal Bucket List to see the family man/ surfer/ soulful muso perform his chilled melodies live since I was a jittery, leggy school girl. Back then I imagined that I would be front row as he hummed centre stage before we locked eyes and he smiled as if his eyes said, 'I'm glad you made it'.

The reality of the true experience was somewhat different... I originally stood with Joe and B but as a crowd of younger teenagers pushed forward I could feel the temperature under the tent rise. The air was palpable and thick, swaying space was reduced to a tiny confined area comparable to a sardine tin where I was forced up against strangers, some smoking, some drinking, some too far gone to realise where they even were. I lost B and Joe in the crowd so I retreated to the cooler, relaxed spaces of the back of the tent where I found a lovely patch of grass. Sure, I had lost my up close view of Jack but I could still hear him strum and sing.

From where I sprawled out on the grass with the older folk in picnic chairs, my oversized hooded jacket draped over my face, my knees bent to avoid being trodden on by the odd passer by... I listened intently and sang along to songs that formed a special part of my youth. And there in the blackest tent as flashes of lasers lit up the big top roof, little Pecan began to roll and sway, kick and stretch from within my belly to the gentle melodies.

I may not have been serenaded by Jack Johnson but I took away from the live performance something far more magical and enchanting than my 17 year old self could have ever imagined.

Oh, and if you ever happen to stumble across this blog, Mr Johnson (I know friends, it's a stretch, right?)... You'll be pleased to know that I'm personally acquainted with your youngest fan.

Enjoying a moment of solitude, accompanied by the sea breeze and occasional gentle Pecan flutters

Somehow in the darkest corner of that tent, Byron found me, he took me by the hand and carefully wove his way through the thousands of moving people to guide me to an open space near the front of the tent where I could clearly see Jack on stage. Together we danced under that tall, open tent as we listened and swayed...

"Love is the answer,
At least for most of the questions in my heart
Like why are we here? And where do we go?
And how come it's so hard?
It's not always easy and
Sometimes life can be deceiving
I'll tell you one thing, it's always better when we're together"

Two lifelong friends exploring the Byron Bay seaside markets

Long afternoon shadows, salty beach hair and flip flops in Byron Bay

I wish I could have stayed longer with the boys on their road trip however, it was wonderful to return home to tell my mother all about my brief visit to Blues Fest, seeing Jackson Johnson and excitedly describing how my baby danced about to one of his/her mama's favourite musicians.

These past two weeks were spent with my best friends, my favourite music, my beautiful mother and my fondest memories, relived.

Have you ever wanted to see your favourite band or musician perform live? Is it on your Bucket List? I urge you to take that list and scribble the tour dates, venue and booking details on the back. Make it happen. Don't miss the chance to reminisce whilst creating new, fun memories. Take your friends and have a blast.

Love Bella xx

Tweet

Banana Buckwheat Pancakes with Honey

Today has been a Jack Johnson song... Banana Pancakes

But baby, you hardly even notice
When I try to show you
This song it's meant to keep you
From doin' what you're supposed to
Wakin' up too early
Maybe we could sleep in
I'll make you banana pancakes
Pretend like it's the weekend now

And we could pretend it all the time
Can't you see that it's just rainin'
There ain't no need to go outside

Except that it IS the weekend. It's a lazy Sunday, a warm day, cloudy with late thunderstorms and rain predicted for this afternoon. Every now and then a cool breeze picks up and makes loose wisps of my hair tickle the nape of my neck.

I awoke early after a deep and restful slumber to a very hazy morning, long sun rays shone in through my window. The light was so soft that I didn't feel the need to squint when I first opened my eyes and as expected, one of my first thoughts was about breakfast and what I could make to enjoy on a Sunday morning. As soon as I suggested buckwheat pancakes with bananas to Byron he started bouncing. Literally. In bed... Much to Maxi's disgust.

Banana Buckwheat Pancakes with Honey
Gluten Free

3/4 cup stone milled buckwheat flour
1/3 cup rice four
1/4 cup cornflour (maize starch)
2 Tbs tapioca flour
2 tsp gluten free baking powder
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup water
2 large eggs
extra virgin olive oil
3 small sweet ripe bananas, finely sliced
1/4 cup almond flakes
A jar of your favourite honey on standby

Into a large bowl, sift the flours, baking powder and ground cinnamon together, mix with a spoon and make a well in the centre. Pour in half of the water and milk. Crack the eggs into a separate bowl one at a time and then add them to your flour mixture. Using a whisk, slowly start to incorporate the ingredients, as the mixture starts to resemble a smooth, thick batter add the rest of the water and milk. If your batter is too runny, you can add more buckwheat flour, if you prefer the mixture to be less viscous, slowly pour in more milk, one tablespoon at a time. The consistency should be somewhere between thick pouring cream and yoghurt.

Peel and thinly slice a small banana and keep this handy by the stove.

Heat a large non-stick pan over medium heat, pour in a generous amount of olive oil (And when I say generous, I mean generous. No half-hearted dripping, do not spray the pan using 1 mL of olive oil. Not pastry brushes because they won't work on the non-stick surface anyway. I want you to listen to me because I know what I'm talking about. These pancakes DESERVE a generous POUR of olive oil). Heat the oil, then pour or ladle a small amount of the batter into the oil, just enough to make a small pancake, approximately 15 cm in diameter. It should begin to bubble a little around the edges of your small pancake, like a halo.

Quickly drop a few slices of banana into the pancake, then continue cooking until small bubbles appear throughout the pancake, a few will burst.

Now flip the pancake carefully and cook for another 30 seconds to one minute, taking care not to burn the banana. If your pancakes are cooking too quickly, turn the heat back to low.

Once you have made the first one, you can start to pour more batter into the pan. I tend to make no more than four small pancakes at a time because it gives me enough time to arrange the banana slices.

If you want to, you can add a sprinkle of flaked almonds to the cooking pancake instead of banana slices. Other alternatives include finely sliced apple or plain buckwheat pancakes that you can dress up later with your favourite topping.

Once you have an impressive mound of banana buckwheat pancakes, place a small pile on a large plate, top with a dollop of creamy natural yoghurt, fresh banana slices, a drizzle of favourite honey and a sprinkle of almond flakes (you can toast these if you prefer).

By the time our pancakes were ready, the day had cooled. I pulled on a cardigan and wandered out to our balcony, which has a gorgeous view of the Sydney skyline. When I stepped outside I saw that Byron had arranged some cushions on the ground and my old red throw rug.

We listened to French cafe style music (Putamayo Presents French Café playlist), laughed, chatted and chewed away our morning as the gorgeous gentle breeze returned every now and again.

Pure breakfast bliss.

Bella xx

Tweet

After Easter Thoughts

This is my second entry and already I have a confession to make.

I am excited about sharing and especially now as I have just returned from a short break over Easter. The confession I have is that I wished to immerse myself in blog writing but felt that too frequent entries may seem self indulgent. I have decided to write when I am drawn back here. To this very page. No matter the hour or reason and after this entry, the blogs will be shorter.

To begin, Easter saw me make the biannual pilgrimage north to visit various relatives and friends. We cooked, we swam, we ate and drank red wine and homemade iced tea. We collected driftwood and broken shells from the beach and sat on the riverbank with the fox terrier, Sheriff wondering why it is I only visit twice a year as he playfully chased the water dragons from the gardens to the slow-flowing river.

We then played Scattergories, the board game with a timer, which, no matter how many times I played, still startled me to within an inch of my sanity each time it noisily 'clacked' to signal our time was up- pens down, like in my university exams... the pressure was incredible at times! You would be surprised how many ideas seep into your thoughts once the pressure of a 60 second time limit has finished but it is too bad when time has run out as the ideas are unable to flow out of your pen onto your answer sheet.
A body of water beginning with the letter 'P'... I have no idea why I spent half the allotted time trying to think of a river when I could have easily written pond, puddle, pool, the Pacific...

It was familiar and comforting to be surrounded by my family, if only for a week that honestly felt more like a weekend in duration. I managed to frame two of my mixed media pieces, one of which is mounted on my bedroom wall for want of a better location. I also began reading Evelyn Waugh's The Loved One for the umpteenth time, though I faintly recall finishing it twice. Ever. And sadly not this weekend.

I also managed to bring twice as many parcels home with me as what I originally left with. Mostly paints, canvasses, books and a new stick blender which is an improvement on the wardrobe I transported last time. Less is more.

I am surprised at the sadness I felt as I pulled out of the driveway to return to my real home. Jack Johnson did not prevent those blues, though his slower melodies lulled me into fond reflection as I promised myself I would return again soon. This prompted me to think about work and planning more travel around even more work. I have come to realise that I am not involved in a vicious downward spiral, but rather a series of events that repeat at my leisure and convenience. It's not so far in reality, I do not have to board a plane, nor do I have to take another week next time.

Perhaps I could visit for a weekend, arriving in the late Autumn afternoon. The time of year when the mosquitoes have moved on and the sky refects brillant pink and cool blue from the glassy river. I will paint next time, seated at the white iron table and chairs beside the jetty that stretches out from the riverbank. I will sit wrapped in a snug scarf cocoon with a white tea.

What more artistic inspiration could I want in such a peaceful place?

Self-indulgent confessions aside, I must admit I find the whole scene both serene and inviting. What an escape- I hope you were as relaxed as me over this long weekend.

I will stop by again very soon with a brief update and images of some of my recent and on-going projects and another glimpse into my life. Meet you back here?

Bella xx

Tweet