What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without talking to anyone (not counting yourself)? An hour or two perhaps? A full day? I once went seventeen days out in the bush without conversing, which felt like an eternity (a longer story for another time). I’ve also done several silent ten-day meditation retreats, which is silence of a different kind when you’re surrounded by people without any interaction.

If you’re anything like me, orienting myself south via the southern cross is about as far as my astronomical navigation goes. Looking up at the night sky, I am often aware of how limited my knowledge is, and marvel at the level of trust that seafarers and explorers once gave to star bearings.... 

It’s said that food grown and cooked with love not only tastes better, but is better for you. If this was to be scientifically studied, I might direct the researcher to Limestone Permaculture farm in Stroud. From my chat to farmer Brett Cooper, it is clear that turning the ‘blank canvas’ of a traditional farm into a thriving food bowl ...

Over the Easter long weekend I unrolled my swag on the banks of the Riverina’s Edward river, along with 5000 others who descend annually on the 1000 acre property for ‘Confest’ - an alternative arts and sustainability festival.

I’ve just returned from the ‘south island’ where I was a guest at the Tamar Valley Writer’s Festival, in Beaconsfield, near Launceston. My trips to Tassie have hitherto been frustratingly short, and this one was no exception. For a nature-lover, a three night suburban stay in the wild state is like a chocolate lover told to be satisfied with a single square. As I flew into Hobart (or ‘Slowbart’ as I’ve heard it),... 

On the way back from a walk in the park this morning, I played spot the edible garden. It wasn’t hard – ripe figs, laden olive trees, patches of lush green kale, silverbeet and salad greens, a wild pumpkin vine, herbs aplenty. And that was only the front yards. For most of us, food growing in our backyards is a labour of love rather than need,...

In primary school, I remember writing a short story from the perspective of a young elephant, orphaned by the effects of logging and poaching on their forest habitat. At the time, rainforest destruction and the greenhouse effect were headline news, loud enough for a child to take them to heart...

I follow a small trail over a sandy creek, through a thick wattle heath, and upwards through flowering geebungsto where it clears into open forest. Wanting to make as little disturbance as possible, I carefully choose the placement of each barefootfall, avoiding the snap of a twig or crunch of dry leaves. The track snakes past the bloodwood tree dripping with red sap, the golden threaded web of the orb spider,...

Over and under, over and under. My fingers grapple with the plant fibres, clumsy in their attempt to coordinate. Over and under, over and under. No, not this way, that way, I tell them sternly. After a time they find a fluidity in the circular motion, in the twisting and turning of warp and weave. The thinking frown at my forehead loosens, my body sinking into a slow moving meditation... 

Back in a previous column, I expressed an inspiration to explore more of our waterways and coastline from the rollicking vantage point of water vessels. While I still haven’t invested in a kayak yet (research ongoing), I took a step closer towards it the other day when I visited a friend in Nelson Bay via the Port Stephens ferry service.

There’s no denying that getting outside and having a good dig in the garden gives you a positive feeling. Even after a stressful day, a five minute wander around the backyard pulling a few weeds and sprinkling the seedlings immediately calms me...

The other day I hiked the Great North Walk. OK slight exaggeration - I did but a few kilometres of the 250 kilometre track that runs between Macquarie Place in Sydney to the Queens Wharf Tower in Newcastle. Still, it was enough to have me itching to don my backpack and boots and set my sites further afield...

I follow a small trail over a sandy creek, through a thick wattle heath, and upwards through flowering geebungsto where it clears into open forest. Wanting to make as little disturbance as possible, I carefully choose the placement of each barefootfall, avoiding the snap of a twig or crunch of dry leaves...

Growing up I often worked in the family nursery on weekends or between travel adventures. One of the most common requests I encountered was for shrubs and trees that were long flowering, something that would provide abundant colour overseveral months. To this end I would often point them towards crepe myrtle, salvia, gaura (the butterfly plant), plumbago or roses...

I’m peeking out from a porthole in a shelter made from sticks, grass and leaves onto a cleared circle of bushland where four large blocks of Cadbury chocolate are being guarded by fierce giants. Surrounding them, gum trees send filtered light from between the leaves down onto a forest floor of native grasses, lomandra, and bracken... 

On the Australia day long weekend, I did something more traditionally Aussie than snags on the barbie or sunburn on the beach – I tanned a kangaroo hide...

Back in a previous column, I expressed an inspiration to explore more of our waterways and coastline from the rollicking vantage point of water vessels. While I still haven’t invested in a kayak yet (research ongoing), I took a step closer towards it the other day when I visited a friend in Nelson Bay via the Port Stephens ferry service...

The resident platypus at Platypus pool is nowhere to be seen, yet is probably curled up in a burrow not metres away from where kids are leaping out from a granite boulder and into adeep pool of the mountain stream below...

It was with some awe that I found myself rubbing literal shoulders with Bob Brown on the City Hall stage last weekend as part of the Newcastle Writers Festival. Along with award-winning author Favel Parrett, the three of us were to discuss the significance of connecting to wild places on a panel named Outward Bound...