Early Morning.

There is nothing like the scent of the early morning. It’s warm already and a delight to be back in shirt sleeves, not encumbered by a strangling sweater.

The sun is resting silently on the iron roof over the road displaying vertical patterns of light.


The magpies are in full song, interrupted somewhat rudely by the staccto of parrot mutterings.
There's not a breathe of air.

Just outside my window, the leaves on the massive fig tree hang impassively supported by its gnarled, twisted trunk.
It’s spring and everything is in bloom, there is a profusion of red, pink, purple and the lime green of new life leaves….


I’m going to join others in Judging today. I’m Judging the art of wonderful quilters.
It’s a huge responsibility and I take it very seriously.

Yesterday was another of those gems of a day. Despite having to be up at 3.30, I embraced 15 hours of laughter, camaraderie and good food with my friends.


I popped the little point and shoot camera in my bag and Ijust can’t help myself, I get excited at posters on the wall, graffiti, fruit in the market and the shadow of the plane on the clouds below.


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