Last week the grey days began and so did the blues. Knowing why makes it easier to understand but not to feel. Low light under low clouds, especially in this land of big sky.

As you live 15
Returning to Australia 10 years ago I stepped out of the airport into the cool night and grinned up at the clear huge stary sky with happy relief. We are so fortunate to have this every day sky, so much breathing space above us.

And now it’s the solstice – the shortest day – and tomorrow the days begin to lengthen again. It always makes me feel better. For a few years when my children were smallish I baked a cake and we celebrated by running around in the dark with sparklers and crying out as happy creatures.

These grey days are just a foil for the many days of ease. And they can be so beautiful.
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Last week I went down to a little town in Gippsland called Yinnar to hang a show with 3 other artists. This dot on the map is near another dot called Boolarra.

Seeing this small town in the Strzelecki Range after so many years, it appeared as the Gippsland of my dreams – the lush green that I miss, the damp air of evening, and small hills that conceal a surprise at each turn in the road. This is the land of my childhood, the dream that I carry with me.


What we miss #3

April 7, 2011

Copy of what we miss touch b

Fly away and see the world

February 3, 2011

Yesterday my very dear friend flew away, with her man and a back pack and no phone. Gone to explore South America. For twelve months she’ll be away, and I’ll miss her.

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A few years ago I made a little painting in her studio.


What we miss #2

January 27, 2011

So much rain now, this half of the country is overflowing.

But not so long ago we missed it terribly.

Copy of what we miss rain b

Conversation with Jordi

December 7, 2010

When my children were small and the bills were big, I never resented paying them, even if it had to be by installment. I was grateful for the modern conveniences – still am. I’m grateful to have the money to pay for them.

The telephone was my lifeline to the world – 2 voices across the distance.

Hot water on tap the greatest luxury every morning.

Warmth in the house and food in my belly have saved me from despair.


We’re spoiled for choice with ways to communicate really. So when the contact with someone diminishes it can be a surprise and sometimes it hurts. But we’re spoiled for choice in so many ways it’s a natural consequence that some connections will fall away. The beauty of it is, it’s easy to pick up the frayed end and repair any damage and cross that distance again.

Our dog Jordi is a social boy. He loves to have a chat in the morning. I’ve noticed that his vocabulary has increased heaps over time. Just like a child, he imitates my sounds and responds appropriately to inflections and body language and groups of words.

Sometimes my days are so full that our conversations are short and more or less one-sided before I dash off into the world. And then I remember what I miss. It takes time to renew that ease between us again.

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What we miss #1

December 2, 2010


What we miss 1a small

A question of distance

November 8, 2010

I’ve been crumpling used envelopes. Crumpling and straightening out, crumpling and straightening out again. Some with a crackling window and some without, and my name and address in a neat or florid hand. I think of Mum and of my dear friend Olive long ago passed away, and of the many letters by many people, sent to me.

And through this filter of words on paper, the thought that stays is DISTANCE – the space between the writer and the recipient. I’ve always lived far away from people and places I love. And then there’s migration – a whole other level of distance, and again I think of my parents.

When I left Gippsland many years ago, I missed green.


So here’s my question to you – What do you miss when you’re far away? I would really like to know. It will grace one of my envelopes, and join over voices. A song of longings.

A room on wheels

August 16, 2010

Finally, after years of missing the last one, there is a van parked in my driveway. And with it comes a simple happy feeling. Looking inside, imagining the adventures that this little room can take me on, I feel that old freedom.