Bev Woodman

I watch it as it falls … drizzling … misting … rain!

Two gold seals and a gold locket, held together with a gold ring … one seal engraved with a hill, a sunrising and the words "I Will Return".

The F3 now bypasses Newcastle and many miss what is here to offer. So next time you see the sign, take a slight detour and visit for awhile … you’ll be pleasantly surprised.

You stare back at me from the photo taken many years before ….

Fern fronds quiver gently in the silent breeze that stirs the early morning air.
The stillness of the forest is sobering …

Hear them whispering, telling me stories of long ago …

See that old man sitting there with his wrinkled skin and graying hair ….

Have you ever stopped and pondered about how things have changed …

Droplets … driplets … little beads of dew ….

Why did you have to leave … and why did you go away?

The shearing is over, the shed is now cleared …

Sent here to serve my time in a harsh and brutal land …..

Hear it crashing … the roll then the thunder …

It was 1955 and I was 9 years old ….

I bumped into a mate today just someone I used to know but had lost touch along the way ….

Steadily I negotiate the various levels of stairs and walkways that lead to and through my garden, my sanction and my oasis …

Somewhere through the night I was aware of someone … more than one … maybe three people calling my name …

This place … this perfect place …

I nestled myself in amongst the pine needles that covered the ground beneath the amazing old pine trees ….

I stood in the pottery gallery an old homestead at Kurrajong Heights …