It’s art if I say it is. Or possibly if one of you say it is – I think it only needs to be one of you.

Today was my ‘create the perfect photo to replace the generic berries’ day. I had visions of books hanging from autumnal trees, against a perfect May-in-Melbourne sky. I’m not quite sure what I thought that would say about me, other than “I like trees, Autumn is my favourite season, I write books.” But it was a start.

Unfortunately the weather and my chronic photography skills conspired against me, as did my kitten who kept running underneath the house (so excited to be let outside – he’s not quite old enough for longer stints), forcing me to pull away from cracking shots to call “Harry! Harry!” in my crazy-cat-lady voice. It’s very high-pitched and a little bit creepy, that voice.

Also, the books kept falling out of the trees. That’s why they ended up in the strawberry plant. Here’s a sample shot – but will it make it onto the homepage for good? Nail-biting stuff. What I wanted the photo to say was: I am quite organic and arty and profound. The truth is: The bloody books wouldn’t stay in the trees so I stuck them in a strawberry plant…that my dad grew for me, and which has been half-eaten by possums, leading me to get possum poo on my ugg boots while I was performing this haughty-cultural act.