There aren’t many things more magical than a jacaranda in full bloom. Photo: Zoe Cartwright.
Minimalism is out, romaticising your life is in – according to the internet, anyway.
I think you can be a romantic minimalist, but as someone whose home is always bursting at the seams with books, plants and animals, it’s probably not for me anyway.
As a passionate lover of all things Anne of Green Gables, the Addams Family, and other works of whimsy, I thought this would be right up my alley.
Online, romanticising your life seems to mean savouring some kind of specialty warm beverage in a bespoke mug you picked up on your travels, or were given by your eccentric great aunt, or found at an op shop run by a woods witch.
I like a good cuppa and my mug collection is certainly eclectic, so I thought this would be a good place to start.
Unfortunately I’m stuck drinking bog standard black tea at the moment, thanks to a tragic break-up with coffee of all varieties.
I tried crushing some cardamom pods into it for a bit of added whimsy and flavour, but if I’m being honest I couldn’t really taste them.
The tiny, handcrafted clay cup I brought back with me from India was lost in a move long ago. My favourite handmade ceramic travel mug shattered last time I actually travelled with it (do not run for your flight while juggling three bags and a travel mug).
I settled for one I got from my granny’s stash when she redid her kitchen a few years ago, and promptly broke that, too.
So, black tea in a mug from Kmart it was.
Next, take a walk around your neighbourhood and notice all the beautiful things you’re usually too busy for.
I admired the view on the hill down from my house – blooming jacarandas and a McDonald’s billboard next to the highway.
I expertly weaved our problem dog, Pingu, away from things that might upset her, such as other dogs, pet cats, and a free-range domestic rabbit.
I did find some very adorable horses, and enjoyed my neighbours’ wonderful gardens, before an older gentleman decided to strike up a conversation and follow a couple of metres behind me until I got home and he spotted our other, bigger dog.
It put a bit of a damper on the whimsy, although it did give me a chuckle to think he was more put off by our resident gentle giant than our tiny canine psychopath.
Surely, romantic whimsy would await me in the garden.
My midyim berry is blooming beautifully, and I did get great enjoyment admiring its delicate, snowy blossoms.
Then I spotted more of the caterpillars that have chomped my poor veggies to stumps, and spent a solid 20 minutes picking them off and flinging them onto the lawn.
This was punctuated by mild guilt about their bleak fate, and righteous anger about the state of my sorrel plants.
Next on the to-do list was work, and to tell you the truth after my morning of failures I don’t think I’m up to the task of romanticising phone calls to comms departments.
Like lip filler, minimalist interiors and the perfect pavlova, I think this one might be best left to the influencers.
But it did give me a new appreciation of my day-to-day – cracked mugs, caterpillars and all.
