Hobbits o' Bellingen

Charlie B and me clankered all day and night to reach the land of the Hobbits, just a smidgen south of Coffs Harbor. An area of well watered pastures and contented brown cattle grazing on the open plains. As we drove, pastures evaporated and forest began encroaching the edges of the road.

It narrowed, the air became cooler and tiny houses appeared here and there nestled in the hillsides, tucked away in green valleys, or screened by forest and enclosed in old wooden fences. A few minutes on this winding track we arrived at Rand J's. The letterbox was weighed under a frenzy of vines and honey suckle, and a tiny wooden house with windows of colored glass sat happily surrounded by towering hoop pines.
The gardens were overflowing with vegetables planted in neat terraces, paths blocked by bicycles, timber, old carpet, pots, tubs, buckets full of miscellaneous green slime. The open shed home was full of instruments, jars full of seeds and grains covered the shelves, tools, bottles, furniture, materials hanging from the walls, sewing machines on tables and a tiny cot covered with a purple mosquito net. An old copper still bubbled away with its concoction on a red cedar bench.
R came out and suggested we go to the river for a swim. In the sunlight four shining souls wandered down a grassy slope at the bottom of the garden, with ancient trees watching from above, they disappeared into a small valley. The rockpool was crystal clear and the forest breathed all around. The frigid water flowing down in small waterfalls and around the thick fallen trunks of moss covered trees.
Many things to do around the house, a kitchen garden to create for example, camphor laurel roots to infuse and make 'smells', a native grain to harvest and dry for experimental cooking later, more smells and concoctions to look at. J flashed Charlie and excited grin and ran to the truck for a second. He came back with a wide grin holding a bottle full of brown liquid. On the side of the bottle was scrawled 'Danger - madness'. The paste was thick and had a pungent odor, the mixture was a number of psychedelics, things for taste and probably a bit of actual madness added for good measure.
Later in the warmth afternoon, pizza making maddness took its own course. Small families and groups friends showed up from the hills most born in this area, organic beers and music appeared, the flour grinder came out and a massive mix of millet, quinoa, spelt, buckwheat, amaranth and more ground where turned slowly into dust.

In the sunshine, on the hill under the trees, Baggins took out his washtub bass and plucked a beat, Sam Wise whistled and Sam Luce banged his knees, Tabitha sang a melody and although there were no Gamgee's or Took's they all had barefeet and laughed.
Until the cool of evening when the woodfire oven was kindled and on the table lay vegetables cut into pieces on trays, a banana carrot slice, raw snacks like balls of ground whole wheat, honey, nuts and definitely no meat, dates and goodness rolled in coconut juices..hang on, it's too tempting to get into a Dr Suess tirade here because the imagery in my brain is making me a little dizzy from the memory of the sight of that good food and all those funny hobbit names.

Anyway, we ate magical pizza under the light of the moon, jammed, and shared stories of life in this amazing forest and within me

..I felt the pull and tug of nature and her way to BE, simply.