Photo by Joshua Reddekopp on Unsplash

Like the wind stirring

I turn to reality

Live for tomorrow.

Today I face life

Alone, defenseless, tired

Tomorrow gives hope.

Stride forward with grit

Stay steadfast against the wind

Triumph over all.

Photo by David Clode on Unsplash

Saturday came around again, my son came, he mowed my lawns and we enjoyed lunch together. Our 5kl lockdown radius had been increased to 10 kl. And we, thankful for small blessings decided to take a short drive to Arthur’s Seat.

I should explain that this Arthur’s Seat is not the one in Edinburgh, but rather its name-sake in Dromana, Victoria, Australia, about as far away as you can get between two namesakes. Dromana is some 85 kl south of Melbourne, set on Port Philip Bay, a delightful seaside village which shelters beneath Arthur’s Seat. …

Photo by Maria Lupan on Unsplash

Maud was having a meltdown. “It’s no good. It’s just a mess. I can’t do it.” She sobbed. Everyone stopped. What to do? How could they comfort her? Here they all were, still physically isolating. First time back together for six long months.

The Studio had been freshly painted and thoroughly cleaned, a blank canvas, you could say. Wendy was so excited to be back. She looked around and thought how little she knew of their lives. Of course, she could identify their paintings on sight, each image a fingerprint of the artist.

They were arranged as always in a…

Photo by Michael SKOPAL on Unsplash

Sara focused the camera, just one more shot. The shadows were lengthening as the sun lowered in the sky. The Red brick ruins glowed.

Picking her way, carefully, around the old homestead and out-buildings, she wondered about the people who had lived here and their fate.

The settlers, had obviously been full of hope, these buildings were built to last. Quite grand layouts with many rooms each with their own fireplace. The chimneys were always the last to crumble.

On the journey north from Adelaide as they approached the iconic Flinders Ranges, they had seen many lone chimneys. Nothing else…

Photo by Niv Rozenberg on Unsplash

The Garden City, what a joke. Eight million people suffocating in tiny apartments rising ever higher, shading out the trees, struggling to survive, on the laneways below.

Of course, there is planning. Yes, planning. There are sports stadiums a plenty, with their sheltering roofs and Astroturf playing surfaces. Brilliantly lit towers of lights powered by the Solar paint adorning their structures. It is a clean, quiet city. Soulless.

Where are the gardens? Where are the birds, bats, and possums? No old trees with habitat holes, no new trees with fresh leaves and bright flowers. …

Christine Frances Annette Andrews

I am retired, enjoy reading, writing and painting watercolours. I keep a curious outlook on life. Remember the past. Live in the present. Welcome the future

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