Wednesday, January 3, 2018


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'. 

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