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Koalas on the Green – Instagram

Three years on… and around 180 tree ferns later, Three years on… and around 180 tree ferns later, this little forest continues to take shape. It still amazes me how quickly those tiny fernlings have grown, now rising into a soft, lacy canopy, joined by a handful of rescued tree ferns finding new life here. I find myself drawn to spend time beneath them. There’s something about that filtered light, those arching fronds… a quiet world within a world. It has become habitat. For the second year in a row, a satin bowerbird has built his bower at the base of a now towering Cyathea felina, carefully arranging his stage to attract a mate. As I walk gently into this part of the forest, I catch glimpses of movement - the dark sheen of the male, the soft green of the female - flitting through the tangle of ferns and flowering banksias. On the forest floor, the story continues. The earthy, almost pungent scent of fungi rises up, with different species emerging in quiet succession. Wallabies rest here too, sheltering in the cool shade, bounding away softly at the first hint of my presence. Time spent in the forests of Mount Tamborine - observing, learning, returning again and again - has shaped this place. This is my attempt to follow nature’s lead. To create not just a garden, but a small forest sanctuary - one that continues to grow, deepen, and invite life in. This video is just a small glimpse… of one small corner of a living, evolving forest. 🌿 #enchantedforest #ferntherapy #fairyforest #wildnaturetherapy
Happy Easter Sunday. This morning began in the qu Happy Easter Sunday. This morning began in the quiet hush before dawn, at St George’s Anglican Church on the mountain, gathered for the Lighting of the New Fire. The air was crisp, almost biting, as the flame was kindled in the darkness. One by one, candles were lit- small, steady lights held gently in the hands of those gathered. In that moment, the fire felt like more than ritual. A rekindling. A remembering. The light of Christ carried into a world that often feels uncertain, a quiet defiance of the darkness, and the first soft breath of a new day. Living here on the mountain, held by nature, these moments seem to settle more deeply. They feel woven into the rhythm of place - into the trees, the air, the land itself. Afterwards, I drove to a lookout and sat in stillness. The sun began to rise slowly through the canopy, light filtering through the treetops in golden threads. Birdsong gathered. The world stirred awake. And in that quiet, I felt it- a gentle sense of peace, a fullness of gratitude, a quiet joy that asks nothing more. Wishing you, and all the world, peace, light, and harmony. 🌿 #Easterblessings #firstlight #LightingoftheFirstLight #firecleanse
I’ve always been drawn to people’s stories. An I’ve always been drawn to people’s stories. And more often than not… plants are where those stories begin to unfold. A couple of weeks ago, I visited Ken— a fern grower out Ipswich way. One of the last of a quiet, fading lineage. I first came across him years ago through a simple Facebook post—fern plugs for sale. Since then, I’ve been returning regularly, each visit adding another layer to a garden slowly becoming something more than just a garden… a sanctuary. This time, I brought home a hundred bird’s nest ferns, along with an assortment of ground ferns. But as always, it was never just about the plants. The drive out there has become part of the ritual. Slowing down. Stopping for a coffee. Wandering past old Queenslanders that seem to hold the memory of another pace of life. Ken’s nursery sits on a suburban block, an old Queenslander watching over rows of carefully tended ferns. It’s humble, unassuming… and quietly extraordinary. Fern propagation, he told me, is an art. And like many art forms, it’s one that asks for patience, commitment… and a willingness to work with your hands. He’s retiring at the end of the year. He spoke about people who had come to learn—full of enthusiasm—but never returned. The work, perhaps, too slow… too physical… too demanding in a world that often seeks quicker rewards. There was a quiet weight in his words. A sense of something not being passed on. And with that, an entire body of knowledge—decades of it—will gently fade. Many nurseries across South East Queensland won’t carry ferns the same way again. Not without Ken. I could feel a trace of guilt in him as he spoke of this. But what I felt more deeply was gratitude. Plants, I’ve come to realise, are never just about plants. They are vessels for people, for stories, for connection. As I pot up these ferns, giving them time to grow before finding their place in the garden, I know this— One day, walking up the driveway beneath the tree ferns, surrounded by a sea of soft lime green, I won’t just see a garden. I’ll see Ken. And I’ll remember that behind every living thing we tend… there is always someone who quietly carried the knowledge forward.
Early morning, I arrive at the forest. She is sti Early morning, I arrive at the forest. She is still. Holding the night’s secrets close, not yet ready to release them to the day. I pause at the threshold. There is a quiet ritual here, an unspoken knowing. I ask permission to enter. I ask for guidance, carrying a question gently within me. And almost immediately, she answers. Ahead on the path, four brush turkeys gather - waiting, as if placed there just for me. I don’t need to think. I understand. The forest has always spoken this way. She never ceases to amaze me with how quickly she responds, how clearly she sees. We have known each other for a long time. Long before memory. Long before words. She has known me before I was born. And when we walk softly - with humility, with reverence, beneath her canopy - she meets us there. She listens. She responds. She guides. Just as doubt begins to rise within me, a lyrebird calls out nearby - sharp, immediate, undeniable. A gentle rebuke. A reminder. The path has already been lit. The magic is already waiting. All that is left is to trust it. #wildnaturetherapy ##naturespirituality #naturetherapy #theforestspeaks
Tree fern magic #wildnaturetherapy ##ferntherapy Tree fern magic #wildnaturetherapy ##ferntherapy #fernlovers #pteridomania
There is comfort in walking familiar forest paths. There is comfort in walking familiar forest paths. In reaching certain bends in the trail and knowing who might be waiting there. A bird perched where it always seems to be. A wallaby resting in the same pocket of shade. A water dragon basking beside the path, just as it has so many times before. A quiet presence you’ve met again and again. Sometimes, we pause together. We notice one another. We share a brief moment of stillness. No urgency. No fear. No story. Just recognition. Like greeting an old neighbour on a morning walk. Then, softly, we both continue on our way - each returning to our own small, sacred routines. These encounters remind me that belonging doesn’t always need words. Sometimes, it lives in familiarity. In repeated meetings. In learning the rhythms of a place well enough to be welcomed by it. The forest, over time, becomes home. #wildnaturetherapy #forestbathing #naturetherapy #wildlifeencounters
Life unfurling. #wildnaturetherapy #fernsofinsta Life unfurling. #wildnaturetherapy #fernsofinstagram #pteridomania #planttherapy
Spirals have long been a quiet language of the sac Spirals have long been a quiet language of the sacred. In ancient Celtic art, spirals appear again and again- etched into stone, braided into metal, carrying meanings that reach beyond mere decoration. When you look at a tree fern crozier, you see this same spiral wisdom unfolding in green - nature’s own herald of growth, renewal, and mystery. It’s a small, perfect loop of possibility: uncoiling from the earth, carrying memory of what was, and promise of what will be. In that curling form, the sacred and the natural meet. A reminder that the world is alive with patterns that invite us to slow, to wonder, and to honour the magic already here. #wildnaturetherapy #faern #celticspirituality #sacrednature #fernwisdom

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