I snapped this sign on the walk into town. I like it. Not enough to Facebook like it, but I like it. It's twenty twelve rustic.
One the way home I stopped to fill the pram basket with pine cones. The ground is littered with them at the moment and now they will sit in the shed until December so I can do something festive with them at Christmas.
It's antipodean moments like these that remind me how bonkers identifying with a western culture in the southern hemisphere is. Our Christmas Day is over 30 degrees celsius (86 deg F) but we go around spraying fake snow on things and Santa wears a fur suit like it makes sense.
Sometimes it does feel like we are walking around with our heads downwards. I think it gives us a unique way of looking at things though.
This is not a rustic thing, but I wore this recently and liked the pattern clash.
Rustic lasange.
Rustic Baby in a home made hat.
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