Storytime

Last weekend was our yearly writer's retreat. For some reason we tend to go away in the chill of autumn/ winter (probably because it takes that long to find a weekend we are all happy with). It's a weekend where we take so much more food than anyone can eat...where we bring laptops and note pads....magazines and books.....pens and highlighters....and walking shoes. These weekends are usually spent with lots of talking and walking. This year however the weather didn't play ball. There were a few walks, when the weather decided to behave....but mostly there we were, spread out on the couch or dining table, fire lit and inspiration flowing. That is what the weekend, for me, is all about. When we first began going away I would feel so guilty. Guilty that I was out there going for walks and doing anything BUT write. Oh I would scribble some ideas down, perhaps work on a poem, or maybe edit a bigger piece of work...but there was none of this 'I will now put down...

For years, almost ten I believe, Alex ran Poetry in the Hut. The Hut Gallery in Ferntree Gully was a good venue...close to public transport...easy parking. There was no feature reader but an open stage, five minutes with the proviso of not using the F or C word. (If you are a good writer you don't need them). Then of course there was the afternoon tea provided by the ladies from the gallery. Times move on and so do venues. The venue changed and now we have... Poetry in the Hills is held in the Belgrave Library. $5 entry...2 pm start...usually with some musical entertainment and refreshments afterwards. It is a very warm and welcoming environment. Some old and familiar faces, some new faces. What I love the most is the variety of performances. Yes it is called Poetry in the Hills, but we always get so much more. Songs, musicians, memoir, short story. On Sunday we had some great musical treats- one young girl (a newcomer) stunned us all with her amazing voice and...

Recently I caught up with a friend. A good friend, a friend of a good many years. And even though we live physically close to each other it is hard to catch up when one works days and some weekends, and the other works nights and other weekends. But we managed a time and place (mine)- and Miss A and I had a good few hours catching up. Over a meal and a biscuit...or three. It's funny when you do catch up with people you haven't seen for quite a while. Often there is that awkward phase. After the initial 'hello' and hug and 'have a seat'. You try to fill in what has been happening since you last met. News about this child, this grandchild, this other child. Work, hobbies, reading. Sometimes there is that long pause. Sometimes this pause is good, it's a comfort pause. It's a 'we-know-each-other-so-well-that-this-silence-doesn't-bother-us' kind of pause. That's the kind Miss A and I shared. But it's that awkward pause wh...

On the weekend I attended my first decorating class. This was a cookie decorating class held by Julia aka  Miss Biscuit   and actually we were the last class in her home, she has a new shop where all classes will be held from now on. I admit to being a bit nervous. Daughter, my partner in crime, had attended a short evening class just before Christmas. Which explained the gorgeous cookies that were given as presents. My nerves increased when we met the group. Every person there had done at least one cake decorating class. Many were repeat offenders, doing class after class. They also made celebratory cakes for birthdays, weddings, engagements. I was the only person to say 'yep I'm a home baker.' My insecurities grew when I was faced with my first blank cookies. Especially when we learnt that two women at our table had entered Australia's Great Bake Off (wow how great must their bakery skills be!) and the other woman was an artist.  But I went for i...

So you get the mojo happening, well a flicker of mojo...perhaps a mojette...you get writing. You feel inspired, you feel there is a story to tell...you are actually...wait for it...enjoying yourself. And you write and you write and you write... Before you know it, this little children's story has gone on and on and you are left wondering 'where the hell do I stop?' Knitting is easy. You get a pattern, use the correct needles and wool and begin. It takes you step by step until you stop..and heh presto, something is completed. After a while you can begin to twist it up, use differing needles and wools, alter patterns within the pattern itself. But you always know when it's finished. Cooking is the same. A new recipe is always followed faithfully. Soon though you add your own tweaks...add some rosemary or perhaps throw in some mushrooms. Flavour with lemon instead of vanilla. Once again you know when it is finished. A garden is a bit different again. It...

I always love to see how writers--or actually 'writers' - spend their day. I'm amazed at those that get up in the wee hours before work and calmly put down a few thousand words. Or those that send the kids off to school then settle down in their office and write six chapters. My designated writing day, which is a Wednesday, goes a lot like this... I sleep in. No alarm set (unless I've booked something exciting like doctor, car service, hair cut etc) and wake up about 7.30. Today thanks to small purring creature it was about 7.10. Leisurely breakfast is had. Then I pop onto the computer. Alas no writing yet, I check emails and the old reliable face book.  Three quarters of an hour later I'm ready to get dressed. Then--- I hang out the washing. Get distracted by furry child.....  Then of course, I'm ready...to head to the shops. I had to you see, there is this handbag I've been thinking about. You know how it is, that insistent niggle of 'If ...

I LOVE autumn. Yep, love love love it! It doesn't have the harshness and heat of summer. (and I so don't do summer well). Doesn't have the icy bite of winter. Or the -in-your-face-look-at-me of spring. There is a gentleness about it. A time of reflection. In the garden things begin to slow down. It doesn't stop. There is still growth - a lot of fungi have their time in the sun. It's when the world begins to slow down, to ready for the winter. Up here in the Dandenong Ranges we are so lucky with all the autumnal colour from trees. A glorious sight as the trees colour, then slowly the leaves fall. And there is nothing like walking, stomping, or even jumping into piles of leaves is there? 'Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.'   Emily Bronte. It gives me the chance to get out into the garden, without the heat of summer, and move things around. Tinker and tweak. This is when you notice what is working, what isn...