The fog descended one morning this week, and being a fog fanatic, I just had to run out and take a shot.
The crepe myrtle leaves are turning so winter must be just around the corner.
All posts by Sandra Graham
When the Wind Blows
Made another rediscovery last night I was looking through some old art magazines last night and stumbled on an article about English author/illustrator, Raymond Briggs. Now, that’s a blast from the past. I first came across his work in high school. I was a nerd and spent most of my lunch times in the library with all of my nerdy friends, and as a consequence discovered some interesting sections, such as the children’s picture book section. Raymond Briggs’ books were in this section, but I certainly don’t call some of his work for young children. My favourite is the hilarious and clever, Fungus the Bogeyman, but the most affecting had to be When the Wind Blows. And what do you know, the whole thing is on youtube.
Ok, so the introduction is a bit dated now, but persist because this is powerful stuff, and unfortunately still a possibility even now.
When I’m Thinking About You
As you can tell, I’ve been indulging in a little mid-90’s nostalgia and re-discovered The Sundays’ classic album, Static and Silence. Unfortunately, this was their last album, but it was a good one and stands up pretty well more than 10 years later. I love the sweetness of the singer’s voice, very unique in this age of divas.
Dear Prudence
A little clichéd maybe, but cute nevertheless!
Let It Be
While channel-surfing last week I stumbled upon the Beatles musical, Across the Universe. I only aimed to watch 5 minutes and swap back to the food channel, but it was so good that I ended up watching the whole thing.
A poignant rendition of a classic song…
What do you do if you met Darcy?
Now for something a little different…
Question: What do you do if you meet Darcy? Worse still, what do you do if you had to sing for him?
Answer: Not my chosen solution, but this worked particularly well for a certain Amanda Price from Lost in Austen.
Canopy
In the middle of the paddock stands a Moreton Bay Fig tree. I have been fascinated with this tree ever since my first visit to the Abbey. The tree is magnificent, larger than the trees in the park behind my childhood home, bigger I suspect than the trees in the Royal Botanical Gardens in the city.
Everytime I see it, I gaze in wonder. The tree seems to have a presence of their own. What wisdom could it hold after keeping watch for hundreds of years?
Into the Light
The day was unusually bright for autumn, and I was happy to follow the path into the bush. Here, eucalypts and blackwoods formed a rich canopy that hid a wonderland of dappled sunlight and ferns that carpeted the forest floor.
I breathed in the air, so noticeably fresher than that in Sydney, before ambling down the path. It meandered between trees and bushes, past a gurgling stream that eventually tumbled down a waterfall. Resting on a bench, I contemplated its gentle sound, and those of the forest – the shrill of the cicada, the screech of the cockatoo, the rings of the lyrebird, the laugh of the kookaburra – before continuing on. After a delightful half-an-hour of meandering, the path emerged into a meadow. I stepped into the light…
Tuesday Reflection
C’est toi ma lampe, Seigneur.
Mon Dieu éclaire ma ténèbre.
Seigneur, mon Dieu, éclaire ma ténèbre.
Seigneur, mon Dieu, éclaire ma ténèbre.
Your word, O Lord, is a light.
My God, enlighten my darkness.
O Lord, my God, enlighten my darkness.
O Lord, my God, enlighten my darkness.
Static and Silence 