When I was about ten years old we lived in a small village, up on the New England Highlands, at Nowendoc. My father managed the sawmill there, it was more a post office, a town hall and the local shop with bread delivery once a week. There was a storm one night and the next morning sitting in the middle of the mill yard was a seagull. The bird must have been blown in by the storm from the coast, quite a distance, about 100 kilometres. I never forgot the image and how magical it was to see this bird so far from its home. I created this quilt recently from that memory. The storm just finishing on dusk in the background, the stripped leaves from the gums which grew in profusion where I lived. We all get blown off course at times in our lives, find ourselves in strange lands and wonder how to navigate our way 'home'.