Sunday morning. Poetry and coffee while my love is sleeping and the suburb slowly ekes out a wakefulness from the night. This learning to get out of bed and carry on, even while he sleeps is a new experience. A loosening grip of novelty, without taking the other for granted. The curve of back in the dawnish light, coming in strips through the blind, the even breath like a sigh of comfort as I usher the meowing monster from the room.

The small spaces of the small apartment grow dense with what are now shared belongings (mixed tupperware!) and there's a certain peace with the expanding and contracting of this space.

Zan came over for lunch yesterday and after hours of gossip she took away the planters, from when I had wanted to plant violets under the lemon tree that didn't survive...and the big pot, with four dead horseradish plants, so now there is a dirty space by the front door, confusing the cat, reminding me of my ungreen thumbs.

It's International Women's Day today, and while the rest of the country goes militant feminist, I am reminded of a warmer, potentially more chauvinistic time, of flowers for the ladies in the office, recognition from Dad and a kind of benevolent condescension. Hmm, now that I write it, perhaps it's not such a good thing, but I sometimes feel tired by the man-bashing lady soldiers whose invective shows up on my feed.

Sunday morning. Unbroken blue sky, Perth's gentle slide into autumn not even beginning, as if she's loading us up with summer to haul us through the Melbourne seasons ahead with stored up vitamin D. And how close those seasons are now - I can see us, booted and coated, walking through close streets , under arching plane trees and over root-disturbed sidewalks. Cafe temptation at every turn. Hip flask of warmth to add to hot lemonade. And affordable haloumi. And words and music and us.

Time for a second coffee, now shared, rising into the morning.

The light was an incredible translucent green, and the little city hung, suspended as if in a dream. The sun had recently set, and those vestiges of day clung to buildings and the sky, and the moon contributed to the gentle milkwash of evening light.

I felt happy after a wonderful catch up with P+L, reflecting on the vast changes that have happened in me in the last year or so, and holy shit the changes still to come.