On Sharing…What do you post?

Writing is all for me.

I find no benefit in sharing with those who have a different heart; …and those who read and misinterpret the origin of my prose.
There are those who will judge my position through no fault of their own, and no evil intent- a perfectly natural and acceptable thing to do. That is how the human mind works now isn’t it? We judge everything through our own eyes- the only way we can. Despite this, I focus on the purpose of my writing.
I write in an attempt to discover the truth in me.
I write so I can sit with myself in solace.
I write in an attempt to make sense of the stories in my head.
So I can travel toward acceptance.
So write for yourself, post for yourself-someone, if only one, will hear you and those who are on a different track may choose to adore you regardless.
“This is all a load of bull” -you say, but it’s only my voice; and if you like it, you may listen, and if you don’t- you won’t, and if you’re of the same heart, you’ll get it.
Sharing personal thoughts is a choice some make and others shudder at. That’s ok. It’s fine to do whatever it is you’re comfortable with.
Now, I get this a lot; “Nicole, are you going to jump off a cliff?”-and I smile.
My answer to that?
“Oh no, I much prefer to take in the beautiful view and run around it”

When Time Stands Still


It is in those rare moments when ‘Time Stands Still’ that the quality of the lens through which we view life is enhanced, and the images we see appear more brilliant than ever imagined.

It is not that we do not see,

 but simply, we rarely stand still long enough to truly appreciate the miracles before us.


© Nicole Martin, 2016 All Rights Reserved

All images by Nicole Martin.

There will always be colour

 There will always be colour

Sometimes it eludes us…but there will always be colour.

Nicole Martin

If someone had’ve mentioned the National Kite Flying Championships were on this weekend, I previously, would’ve dismissed it with a simple nod.

Here we are in Adelaide, on the Eve of the Australian Age swimming Championships, and I’m mesmerised by the sky-a picture perfect blue, splashed with a flood of colour.

My balcony, which wraps around my home for the next while, makes for the perfect viewing point. I have never seen so many Kites, soaring above sun kissed dunes and champagne seas.












Directly below us is an ice creamery. My youngest son is currently in heaven as he attempts to find the quickest way to drill a hole through the ceiling of our apartment, shove down a pipe and connect it directly to the waffle making machine. That way, he can simply-“Suck it up, continuously”

The drive to the venue this afternoon was pleasant-endless coastline, spectacular pine trees aligning the long, wide, straight roads and blue stone cottages with little round tables and imaginary people drinking tea from a pot, very much the vogue in Adelaide. Churches adorn every corner. Some active, some transformed into residences for the local library/ Doctor/Dentist.

Athletes congregate around Aquatic Centre doors waiting to pounce on the opportunity for last chance training.

The buzz is in the air. The goosebumps have landed.


For us, this is all new.

Tomorrow, at 11:50 am, our 13 year old will line up on the blocks to race against the strongest age-group swimmers in the country-Our hearts are with him, if not escaping from our chests.

…and then, we will watch the Kites, flying free in the breeze, as life returns to normal-for a wee while.

Happy Easter everyone, keep safe.


When stillness finds us

When Stillness finds us



there are moments in life

when the dust that clouds our appreciation for our blessings

finally settles

and stillness and contentment

  are all that remain.

~Nicole Martin

Photography by

Nicole Martin

Are your quirky habits a problem?

dancing (gif)

Are your quirky habits a problem?



Give me MORE of your Quirky habits, for they are YOUR unique traits that only you possess. They’re your involuntary human signature.

I would never want you to be the same as everybody else. There is only ONE of you, and you’re perfect just as you are.

I often hear-

“He has a habit of doing this….he has a habit of doing that”

Unless it’s interfering with his life in some major way, does it really matter?

Personally, I love quirky habits-

Do you twirl your hair when nerves succumb you?

-How cute

Are you blessed with an outrageous laugh?

-How I love hearing someone laugh

Or do you sing in the shower purely to irritate your other house mates?

-It always puts a smile on my face when my son does this.

I’ve been trying to pinpoint my own habits, however somehow, I have less awareness of these, than of the antics of others.

I have been told I walk a little knock kneed or pigeon toed-is this a habit, or just a bio-mechanical issue?

What then, is a habit exactly?

According to the Dictionary.com APP,  a habit is the following-

‘An acquired behaviour pattern regularly followed until it has become almost involuntary’

So I guess pigeon toed ‘itis’ is not a habit then, as it has not been acquired over time-rather, I was born with it.

However this does not explain the quirky little habits families have as a whole. Sometimes, a few members of a family all have the same habit. If it runs in the family, this would suggest it hasn’t been acquired either!

An example? They all hold their head on a slight angle when they talk, or they all talk over the top of each other with enormous excitement, or they all have tendencies to adopt unhealthy social habits.

Are these habits acquired?-Maybe, maybe not.

All the same, it’s absolutely fascinating, don’t you think? Analysing the antics that make each individual unique?

Some habits go largely unnoticed, and others fully define a person.

So unless your habits are harmful in some way, keep yours alive and well and own that quirkiness with confidence and pride!

Get into the habit of owning your habits!!

Inspired by the Daily Prompt Quirk of Habit

GIF’s inspired by

The amazing Thumbup

On Writing

My Tree of Yesterday

Social now means Internet

My tree of yesterday

My Tree of Yesterday



‘I want to stroke the soft parts of his ears and look into his eyes and say hello’



‘It’s bark feels rough in my fingers, I remember that.

If I were to return to the earth that lay beneath my feet my entire childhood,  I’d hug it and listen for it’s heartbeart.

I’d skip to my favorite tree, crouch down really low, inhale and smell the dirt around it’s base. I’d stomp on it’s fallen leaves and make the loudest crunching noise I could and I’d roll in them and smell them and fall asleep in them. I’d hide in it’s branches and sit in the fork with my legs dangling down.

Let me sniff the dirt, let me taste it on my tongue, let me roll it in a ball and squash it in my fingers. Allow me to stroke the smooth white trunk of my eucalypt tree- let me hug it, let me hold it in my arms and remember my home that was.

I want to feel it in my bones.

I want to build a bonfire with Dad, in the middle of winter, with my brother and my white Labroador,  and my Tabby cat who sat in the fork of my favourite tree and kept guard, but never really joined in. I want to collect sticks and branches and pile them up in thee bits of me warm.

I want to make a seat out of a log and sit on it watching happily as Dad collects more kindling and my brother rides his BMX over dirt jumps.

I want to see the innocent waddle of my dog-Regal-again.

I want to watch him sniff every blade of grass and every tree trunk and run happily and freely with all of us.  I want to feel his fur on my palms. I want to stroke the soft parts of his ears and look into his eyes and say hello. I want to tell him that I’m sorry I wasn’t there when he grew old, and if I had my time again, I’d make him toast and tea and we’d sit together for a while and chat. I would tell him I’m sorry it took me 40 years to understand that.

I want to walk up that road.

The long dirt road filled with bits of rock that made for a rough bike ride. I want to post a letter to our home-made letterbox that Dad made which lived at the end of the long dirt road, and collect the mail and read it.

I want to smell the air. To suck it up, close my eyes and remember what it felt like to be 12.

I want to fall asleep in my litttle bed and listen to the sounds of my past. The grunting Koala that would wake me, the fighting cats that I always mistook for a deserted baby, the musical notes of the magpie outside my bedroom window.

I want to feel the edginess of the bark on my favorite tree and be swept up by memory lane. I want to scrunch  it’s leaves in my hands and inhale the scent of yesterday.

I want to, I want to, I want to…

So far away, so far, far, away

but I close my eyes

and I’m hugging my favorite tree, and I’m scrunching it’s fallen leaves…


My Favorite

WordPress -Daily Prompt