Swift's Creek Film Diary // Part Three

Wow, this took forever to get up. Here is the last installment of my time in Swift's Creek. There are more photographs to this segment, but I am not including them as they are of some of the people I worked with. It is kind of obvious, but I don't write about any of my work here, other than how pretty the school was (and it was, so very very pretty). It's a matter of privacy. I will however share with you my lovely experience with gastro, Jack's sad farewell and time spent with family. 

part one / part two

I spend one half day in the bush nurse's office in Swift's Creek, vomiting my guts out. I have caught the nasty gastro that has been wafting round through the students. It picks just about everyone off one by one. I am grateful it only lasts a day, by the next morning I feel fine. I spend the day at 'home' though, just in case. I do work for University and plan the whole next week. By the end of the day I feel rather productive. For dinner i have roast pumpkin, which I pick straight from our host's garden. 

Rather than going to Orbost again for the weekend, I spend my Saturday in sunny Lakes, browsing the stores and eating macarons on the beach. While I find film to be somewhat truthful, I feel that these photographs do not do the day justice. The whole world felt so much brighter than depicted here. There was very little difference to me between the sky and the water. Everything was bright, warm and beautiful. It felt like an early taste of the part of Summer I like. Not the dry, stinking hot of February, but the beginning warmth of late November, early December. It feels a shame that I will be missing out on this weather in favour of Europe. Then again, not so much a shame.

On the drive 'home', I double back to take a photograph of these curious looking buildings. They remind of the Amish communities one hears about. I also stop at Connor's Hill, where I feel my lens cannot possibly capture the majesty that is these rolling hills bathed in light. It will be bittersweet to leave them in a week. I have such a thing for hills, I could never live somewhere flat. 

On the Sunday it is Father's Day. It feels completely wrong to not be spending it at home with Dad. I make up for it somewhat by spending it with relatives. I visit my Auntie Margaret and Uncle Peter at their home in Ensay. They built it in the 1970s, out of mud and wine bottles. The whole place has a wonderfully rustic charm to it, most strongly when Margaret plays a song she found entitled Louise on her piano. We have lunch in the main room: teriyaki tofu, lettuce, bread and boiled eggs. I have brought a packet of biscuits with me and we gorge ourselves on those while Peter tells me how he used to be addicted to Coca Cola of all things. The light that filters through the wine bottles is mesmerizing and I snap a couple of quick photographs while Margaret is in the bathroom. Their house is filled with antiques, all this gorgeous old furniture. The beds are high up in a loft space and the rooms are separated by bookshelves. The house is deliciously cool for an unexpectedly warm day, apparently due to a special roof they built. I fall in love with the piano though. I need one for myself. One day.

After lunch we head out for a walk, where Peter shows me all the native trees he has planted. We wade through high grass, me in jeans rolled up to my knees. I worry that a snake will bite me and devise a ridiculous situation in my head where a snake the size of a kangaroo bites me. A helicopter will then have to land precariously on the hill and whisk me away to hospital. I take a photograph of the hill. 

I head out into the garden back 'home' one day to gather up some oranges. We've been eating them every single day, they are smaller than oranges from the store and decidedly sweeter. I like them that way. Our host is kind enough to climb up on his ladder and pick some from the very top of the tree. He says that they are the ripest because the sun warms them up. I am walking around barefoot and he compliments me on doing so. He starts to talk about Reiki and tells me that the energy from the Earth comes up through our bare feet. It's a little odd, but then he goes on to talk about gardening and gives me an artichoke to try. I'm a little sad because I never got around to eating it. 

It is our last week at the school. The cherry blossoms, which were in abundance at the beginning of our time here, have all faded into purple leaves and I feel disappointed that I didn't get a photograph of them earlier. This whole place is so very picturesque. You can just make out Laura sitting at the table if you look hard enough. 

One day after work, Laura and I head down to the creek and lay on towels and pillows in the sun. We eat peanuts and I read Virginia Woolf whilst she preps for the next day. Laura decides to climb a tree at one point, despite wearing a skirt. We dip our toes in the water but despite the warmer weather the creek is still icy cold. The water comes from up in the snow, so I don't fancy swimming in it just yet. 


Laura plays a game with Jack back up at the house, where she runs around and around the yard then throws his chewed up shoe. It's hilarious to watch and even more hilarious when our host shows up with a friend. He says, "You know Jack is really going to miss you two". It's sweet. 

Our last morning has us moving our things out of our 'home' for the past three weeks. Jack whines and whines, he knows we won't be returning. The morning is grey and foggy, I take one last photograph of the view I first laid eyes on upon arriving at our temporary home. 

I spend the night at Laura's house in Orbost before setting off for home. It is election day and every town I drive through has people milling about, waiting their turn to vote. By the time I get home I'm exhausted, but so very happy to be there. I missed it here.