Joy is…dancing under the stars!

The annual spring festival has wrapped for another year - and I’m still in recovery.

The fun kicked off on Friday evening, and we didn’t exactly ease into the festivities. Sharni and Johnny were mad keen to experience everything the three-day event had to offer, and I had the near-impossible job of pacing them just so I could keep up. At first, I didn’t do so well. It was like trying to slow down a runaway freight train. Or the speed of light.

Flashing lights, colourful signs and catchy sounds were everywhere, all vying for our attention - and our coins. The funfair rides were spinning almost as fast as Johnny’s eyeballs, and the food and drink stalls offered an exotic and endless array of temptations.

But we averted overwhelm - that night at least - thanks to a very happy distraction: the live music.

A nine-piece band played in what would otherwise be the middle of the footy field. A gentle sea breeze stirred our hair, cool grass brushed our feet, and the stars glittered above us.

It was wonderful.

And so we danced.

Sharni and Johnny pulled moves I’d never seen before. We danced to old favourites and songs less familiar. We even attempted the Nutbush, despite none of us knowing how.

I’m pretty sure Sharni and Johnny shouted the loudest for an encore. And then another. And another.

They danced and sang until the night wore thin - and so did I, until I could barely move a muscle.

Luckily, the beans slept like logs. But they didn’t sleep in. Gates opened at 8 am, and they didn’t want to miss a thing.

And as I watched them race ahead into another day of fun, I couldn’t help but smile. Joy, it seems, never needs a rest (even if we do).

- Sam

Joy is…an early start!

Something very strange happened the other day.

I got up early.

You see, for weeks now, Sharni and Johnny have been rising with the sun so Johnny can practice his surfing, while I’ve stayed in bed suffering from acute FOMO.

But that morning, woken by the sounds of nature—or possibly a surfboard being waxed—I felt unusually compelled to get up instead of roll over and miss all the fun.

There was a flurry of activity as Sharni and Johnny got ready, and I noticed a surprising spring in my step as I hunted down the kettle to make a cup of tea.

This time, I decided to take it to go.

The early morning beach didn’t disappoint. Johnny was easy to spot in the waves—turns out you don’t need good eyesight to see a bright blue bean with a giant grin on his face.

I collected a few shells to add to Sharni’s growing stash and wandered the shore, feeling the cool sand on my feet and the warm sun on my back.

It was almost perfect. Idyllic, even.

It was also only 6:15am. Good grief, what was I thinking?

Still, not to worry. Soon the clocks will change, it’ll be dark at 6:15am, and the beans will sleep in.

And joyfully, so will I.

- Sam

Joy is…festival fever!

Sharni and Johnny are buzzing with excitement for one of the biggest weekends in their little town.

The annual spring festival is about to arrive, set to attract thousands of visitors over the long weekend.

Some of the fun fair rides have already started rolling in—though not yet fully set up—and my joyful friends have been studying the festival program like they’re cramming for an exam.

It will be my job to prevent a repeat of last year’s incident involving Johnny, some very sticky candy floss, and poor Sharni’s hair. Wish me luck.

In the meantime, it’s not just festival fever that has them hopping with joy.

On Sunday, Daylight Saving Time officially begins here in NSW and the clocks will jump forward one hour which means… darker mornings, longer evenings, and a whole lot more time for twilight adventures.

Sharni and Johnny are thrilled at the thought of playing outside while it’s still light, enjoying dinners al fresco, and generally reveling in every extra minute of sunshine. I, on the other hand, will be busy ducking and diving to avoid the mosquitoes.

Plenty to get excited about—and plenty for me to try and keep up with (armed with bug spray of course).

- Sam

Joy is…a seaside treasure hunt!

I’ve never been the most hands-on, crafty person. But sometimes inspiration strikes, and I try my hand at something beyond writing, doodling, and prolific biscuit dipping.

Such was the occasion when Sharni and Johnny suggested we go fossicking at the beach and spend an afternoon crafting with our found delights.

Ignoring the gale-force winds that always seem to lie in wait the moment I step on sand, my joyful friends scampered ahead with carefree abandon while I trudged behind like I was on day four of an arctic expedition.

Sharni had made sure we all had bags to contain our seashore treasures. While I was still wrestling with the wind to open mine, Johnny had already half-filled his with twigs and sea sponge. He threw his little arms up in delight when he spotted something else in the sand. Shells. Lots of them.

Sharni squealed and ran to join him as they all but nosedived into the crunchy pile. Clearly they’d discovered seashell heaven, and they began sorting like expert conchologists curating the world’s finest shell collection.

Each shell they found was apparently more beautiful than the last. Occasionally, though, one fell short — those rejects were either discarded with dramatic flair or handed to me with a little shrug, as though I’d be desperate enough to accept sea scraps. Of course, I was. It saved me having to bend down in the sand, so I gratefully snaffled them up.

Soon our bags were bulging, and after patting more than a few friendly dogs, we headed for home.

I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say there was a hot glue gun and a lot of joyful chaos. Many shells were glued to sticks and fashioned into quirky (and sometimes useful) things, but plenty were left unused.

It was agreed we’d return them to the beach. But we’d might want to be quick - or take the kite - said Sharni. The wind, apparently, was picking up.

— Sam

Joy is…a picnic in the park!

Here’s a little confession: I’m not great at being outside in nature. There, I said it.

Maybe it’s the writer in me — or the fact I was born in England — but I’m far more comfortable indoors, where I can control both the temperature and the bug life.

Sharni and Johnny, on the other hand, love it. Rain, wind, or the kind of heat that makes you fear for your own safety (otherwise known as an Australian summer) — none of it bothers them in the slightest.

And now that it’s spring, conditions are such that our joyful friends think they should be outside. All. The. Time.

Oh my.

So when they announced we’d be going to the park for a picnic, my first thought wasn’t, “Oh, how lovely.” It was, “I’m definitely getting bitten by ants. And I’ll probably sit on a worm.”

I must not have articulated this quite so clearly though, because before I knew it Sharni was assuring me they’d find the perfect spot to roll out the rug — a spot where no worms would be squished and no ants trampled.

She had mistaken my preoccupation with my own comfort for concern for the wellbeing of others. Bless.

And so it was, on a random September day, I sat with my cheerful friends Sharni and Johnny, munching on warm crusty bread, fresh grapes, and cheddar cheese, sipping apple juice through a paper straw.

Even I had to admit the weather was delightful — right in the sweet spot of the Goldilocks zone: not too hot, not too cold, but just right. And with Johnny’s constant wisecracking, Sharni’s sweet ability to laugh at all his jokes (funny or not), and (if you can believe it) the warm sun on my face… I really did enjoy myself.

I might even go so far as to recommend it to you too, if you’re in need of a little joy today.

Just know there will be ants. I was definitely lunch for a couple. But the worms kept their distance — so there’s that.

— Sam