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This feels uncomfortable to write. Not because I don't love my husband, but because I do. Yet lately, if I'm being completely honest, I haven't been showing up as the partner I want to be. Life just feels like a big old list of things that need doing. I'm thinking about marketing campaigns while packing swimming bags, wondering if I've washed the toddler's swimmers, checking the netball bag is packed before school pickup so I don't have to drive home again, making sure there

There’s something about this time of year that can quietly creep in on us. The mornings are darker. The paddocks lose a bit of their colour. The washing never quite dries properly. We spend more time inside, rugged up against the cold, and life can start to feel a little smaller somehow. I’ve been feeling it myself lately. As the weather turns cooler and the days shorten, I notice my thoughts turning inward. And while reflection can be a beautiful thing, too much time in our

Mother’s Day has always been a complicated day for me. If I’m honest, I’ve actually spent years trying to force it into something neat, beautiful and perfect. Putting pressure on myself. Pressure on my husband. Pressure on the day itself. Pressure to create the kind of Mother’s Day that looks warm and effortless from the outside. But as my thoughts have wandered throughout the day I have tried a more curious lens, and something pretty simple dawned on me. Mothering comes in m

I found a photo of me the other day. Maybe five years old. “Hello, Melanie Jayne Ludke speaking, how can I help you?” Leaning casually, holding a landline phone like I’d done it a hundred times before. I used to love answering the phone. I’d sprint to get it before anyone else could. And when I did, I’d say “Hello, Melanie Jayne Ludke speaking, how can I help you?” My full name. Because that meant something. I talked a lot back then. I always had something to say. But I also

This weekend life brings me back to the town of Thargomindah, a place that is so special to me. I’ll be sitting among familiar faces, watching a young woman I once taught walk down the aisle. She’s now a teacher herself, giving back to the same community that raised her. It’s one of those rare moments where you catch a glimpse of the ripple coming back around. By coincidence, the day she says “I do” falls on my own wedding anniversary. Life has a funny way of moving in circle

Lately, I’ve been thinking about my Grandad. He had a big, booming voice and a laugh that echoed like a cooee off the Bunya Mountains. Broad and strong, warm in his presence, with piercing green eyes that both saw you and sparkled with generosity. There was kindness in him and a firmness that never wavered from his values. Community wasn’t something he talked about. It was how he lived. Farmer or townie. Rich or poor. Local or passing through you were met the same. There was