You never know until you are told the story.

Wednesday 17th of August.

Its been a typical pre-spring day here in the Adelaide Hills. One minute there are dark black clouds tipped with white  scudding across the sky, then five minutes later the sun appears and everything is gold.

I've worked in my studio with views of the crows who think they belong to us outside one window, I watched the hail bounce over the brick patio out of the other window and  the bending  of the trees from the other. The french doors give me a view of the bird feeder and the antics of the birds despite the inclement weather.

It's so nice being home.




I made cards today, deliberately and with products I had purchased while traveling. Products that carry a story.

The chickens are sewn free motion by machined onto hand made paper that I had purchased in Nepal. The legs and beaks are drawn with pigment ink and I will give them as a special gift.

'Nice', you might think, but for me it's the memory. No one knows the thoughts that are generated when I create the cards made from the paper created in such difficult situations.          Capture and Create.

The story.

We traveled to a small outlying village away from the tourist areas of Kathmandu. The buildings showing the evidence of the devastating earthquake. It appears the aid had not reached those who live in this area. To be brutally honest, we saw no evidence of re building.

It was dusty, piles of bricks and soil made negotiating the makeshift path difficult and people were living and working in houses dangerously propped with pieces of wood and other makeshift coverings.



However, there were still smiles and life goes on really, but one couldn't help but feel a sense of inadequacy at not being able to help.


Still  business goes on. We visited a huge building, it was about 4 stories high and only half of it remained. There was no electricity. Beautifully carved wooden  stairs, and   fittings sat garishly inadequate in desperation.  Yes, we climbed the four floors and on the top part of the building was where they made the paper.









We were graciously instructed on the process and I for one felt completely humbled.


I bought rolls of the paper in the dark storeroom below. We had little idea of what we were buying because there was no light.. just an occasional flicker of a torch. I have a duty to use the paper, which I have begun to do today and as I handle it the memories flood back.


In the square below, the goats sit and guard in the temple. People walk past quietly, working. Walking with a swinging gait due to the heavy load of bricks on their back they wend their way across the square and up the hill and return standing upright with empty baskets.


It is a real experience. I personally can only add my small token of buying paper and sharing what I know with my friends on Social Media.


Think how lucky we are



8 Comments Add yours

  1. marysalmon says:

    Incredibly moving. Thank you. You made a difference.

  2. Teresa Hartman says:

    Powerful, and truly humbling, photographs.

  3. Judy Hoxie says:

    Beautifully writr, Pam.

  4. How fortunate we are indeed. Your travels, your your work and your stories are a great inspiration to many of us. Thank you.

  5. caltexgal says:

    I have chicken envy, your birds are wonderful…
    Thanks for the background story and the reminder, we are very lucky

  6. pamela armas says:

    Its so exciting following all of your adventures and daily reports. Thank you.

  7. pamela armas says:

    Oh-Look at that glorious hand made paper!

  8. Sheri says:

    Once again Dear Pam you have taken me on your journey. Opening my eyes to things I might never see. Thank You

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