My Island Home

I've lived on Norfolk Island with my husband Chris for over 20 years, 17 of those with our children; the last few on our own. They call this phase of our truly blessed lives "empty nesting"and the irony is not lost on either of us, as we hatch new plans from our magnificent eyrie.

We had planned to downsize once the kids had flown the coop, but quickly expanded the tiny home we bought to add a studio under the house and several large decks, connecting our home - and our souls - to the great outdoors.

As our home is the most easterly on the island, and by default, Australia. we see dawn's arrows shoot from the Pacific. On clear nights the entire arc of the milky way stretches overhead. And when the full moon rises in all its glory, it throws a sequinned cape of light right across the sea.

Masked boobies nest at the bottom of our garden and soar overhead in squadrons without so much as a single beat of their wings. Frigates harass the tropic birds wheeling past the cliffs. White terns teach their fledglings the art of synchronised flight, completely oblivious to our awe. And when many of these graceful seabirds exit for the winter, humpbacked whales cruise in to upstage their extraordinary displays. To say we have a ring-side seat when they're migrating between their feeding grounds in Antarctica and secret birthing sites in New Caledonia is nothing short of an understatement. We watch them teach their calves to breach, their tail-slaps and vocalisations echoing off the rocks that line the wide bay beneath us.

It is ridiculously perfect. Even when the wind is howling and the swell pounding in. I still wake up every morning and I'm jealous of myself! It is a rare privilege to live here, and one I hope to honour through my art.