Author: Christy Anne Jones

2018 in Reading

It’s already halfway through February and I am only just now creating my 2018 reading list … that’s pretty indicative of how quickly this past month and a half have gone. Last year I really enjoyed documenting my reading on this blog so I have decided that I will do it again this year. Here is my 2018 reading list: all of the books I have/will read in 2018 (also, I should mention that I’m including my favourite short stories and essays. Not all of them. Just the ones I love and want to remember). I will continually update this list as the year progresses ~ Books/essays/stories that have been read before will be marked with * A Picture of Dorian Gray—Oscar Wilde A Gathering of Shadows—V.E. Schwab A Conjuring of Light—V.E. Schwab A Room of One’s Own—Virginia Woolf* The Deep—Anthony Doerr

An Ode to Melted Snow

I’m from Adelaide. The very first time I saw snow, it was at the beginning of 2017. My boyfriend and I were sitting on a flight between Seoul and Sapporo, and, as we were coming into New Chitose Airport, we were flabbergasted by what we saw though those rounded windows. The ground was covered in a strange white-grey blanket, with the tops of tiny trees and gates and rivers scattered across it. We wondered: was it a lake reflecting the clouds? Did Hokkaido just go through some heinous flooding we hadn’t seen on the news? It took us stupidly long to realise to obvious: it was snow.  So, when the snow began to fall on Tokyo a few weeks ago, I was awed. To have snow falling in these tiny, billowing flakes outside my window—to be able to see that happening, right from the warmth of my writing desk—was absolutely remarkable. I love snow, though I know that it’s simply a novelty for me. I know that it’s inconvenient and hazardous and soaks my shoes and hurts my …

The Waltz of the Autumn Witch

The first morning of autumn galloped through the vale, rolled over the hills and tumbled onto the towns and villages that sat scattered in the valley. Dragging its chilly winds behind itself, the new season murdered any trace of summer that had been left upon the air. With a great gust, it flung the yellowing leaves over the vale, the crisp confetti finding even the almond orchard, hidden at the edge of the valley, and the witches dozing inside. Elsie woke first.

Shinjuku Gyoen Garden in Autumn

Hello everyone! I’ve made no secret that autumn is, by far, my most favourite season. It comes, I think, with being an autumn baby (… in the Southern Hemisphere. Here I’m a spring baby, which feels odd and wrong so I’m retaining association with Australian seasons). There’s something beautiful and magical about nature at this time of year. Tyler and I decided to make the most of the lovely weather and went to to the lovely Shinjuku Gyoen Garden. This was the first time I had been and, safe to say, I loved it. I want to go back with a sketch book and a picnic blanket and never leave. Here are some pictures from the day:

M.I.A

Hello everyone! I’ve been taking a bit of a break from the internet over the last couple of weeks and I thought I would write a post about why. At the end of October I was so determined to get back into a routine and post regular content to YouTube but, unfortunately, I fell ill. Working 6 days a week definitely took its toll on me–I ended up with a terrible cold and subsequent chest infection. Worst of all, I also lost my voice. Funnily enough, being a children’s English teacher (a job which involves a copious amount of singing) makes being sick even more difficult; I basically had to push through the sickness, even though I couldn’t speak loudly and couldn’t hold a tune.

The Things I Miss

It has now been three months since my partner and I left Adelaide to move to Japan. Three months. It’s weird to even consider because it feels as if we have been here much longer, but it also feels as if we got here a few weeks ago. So much has happened in that time. I’m now on my second job. We’re in our second apartment. We’ve gotten used to paying our bills and navigating day-to-day life in a city where we speak the language only well enough to order McDonald’s fluently (and, even then, if the worker speaks too quickly, I slip up every now and then). I never expected to feel home sick. Truthfully, I don’t. But I do miss certain things.

Tiny Towns

  My childhood was one of hand-me-downs, and mud-stains, and air so clean you could have swam though its beauty. Summers sweltering heatwaves and drought, and warm rain swelling at the bottom of molten metal water tanks. The winters whispered frost, squelching boots and shivering limbs under infinite layers of woollen blankets. Fingers turned numb with the chill that bored into every crevice, cell, and plane of grass.  Weaving in and out of it all were only the sounds of the dairy cows, singing their songs amongst the spray of gum trees swaying their leaves in defiance of the breeze.