Today is the long-awaited day.

The car is packed. The chatter is excited. And my heart feels full before we’ve even arrived.

For months I have been looking forward to this little escape — a girls’ getaway with my daughter and my two granddaughters. Just us. Three generations, slipping away together for a couple of nights. There is something quietly sacred about time like this. No rushing. No dividing attention. Just shared space and unhurried moments.

And we are back at one of my favourite places — the fig farm.

This beautiful property has become familiar to me over the years, like an old friend who always welcomes me back with open arms.

But this time is different.

This time we are staying in the two-bedroom cottage — a first for me — and I can hardly wait to open the door and show my girls around.

I’ve spoken about this place so often that it feels special to finally say, “Here it is. This is the farm I’ve told you about.”

It is summertime now, and the landscape wears a different face. The paddocks are sunburnt gold rather than the lush green I’ve seen in other seasons. The grass crunches gently underfoot. The air carries that warm, dry scent of Australian summer. Yet even in its parched state, the farm is beautiful — perhaps in a quieter, more resilient way.

The resident kangaroos are still here, of course.

They stand at a careful distance, watching us with curious eyes, as if whispering to one another, “Who has come to visit this time? Do we recognise them?” I love that about this place — the sense that we are visitors in their home. That we are being observed just as much as we are observing.

The hosts, as always, are warm and welcoming.

There is something deeply comforting about returning to a place where you are remembered.

It feels less like accommodation and more like belonging.

As we settle into the cottage, I find myself pausing for a moment. Listening to my granddaughters’ voices echo softly through the rooms. Watching my daughter take it all in. Feeling the quiet joy of sharing a place that has meant something to me.

This is what I hoped for.

Not just a getaway.

But memories being made.

Sun-kissed evenings. Barefoot wanderings. Laughter spilling across the paddocks.

Three generations sitting side by side, telling stories under wide Australian skies.

I have a feeling this is going to be one very special few days.

And I am so grateful to be here — together.