In this quiet place two lanes of eucalypt reach up in reverent pillars. High above, the arched canopy guides our syncopated footsteps toward moonlit clearings. It is our pilgrimage path of laughter and tears, this natural archway with stars pinned to it like diamonds, here where city and nature meet. This is where we face life with its glories and challenges, where we sweat out the hurt, the anger and the pain, and soar on the joys. This path that follows historic tracks and resonates with untold stories, is also criss-crossed by nocturnal life in all planes... there is the contant rustling and bouncing of little white flags as rabbits scurry away to their warrens, the phantom frames of grazing kangaroos startled by our appearance out of the dark, swaying slightly delayed into more rapid retreating motion...the croaky call of a possum to its mate up in the fragrant foliage, and the invisible growth of mysterious mycelia that will, with the right amount of rain, produce a treat of wild mushrooms in the morning.

How precious are these sacred evenings, how beautiful our journey through life with its triumphs and its torments, with dark and light, night and day, drought and rain, all producing growth and fruit, more understanding, more authenticity...and so we run, and we run again

I have been wanting to make more wings for use on cards and 3D mixed media creations, so out of the shelf came the lovely book Taking Flight that first taught me this technique, and after an hour or two of bending, cutting, glueing and painting, I had 8 brand new sets, wired and distressed and ready to use. I'll show a few pics of the easy and fun process, and some of the cards and gifts I decorated with them. I hope it will inspire you to make some of these versatile wings , and if you do please let me know about it!

I remember when painting with watercolours started to make sense to me. It used to be a frustration and just short of a disaster, until one day it just clicked, when I realised I had to relax and stop controlling it, allow the paint do what it wants. Watercolour is a contradiction in itself- it both defies and favors the perfectionist. It still takes a lot of good planning before the actual painting starts, but then it is a little like colour-by-number, deciding which colours are the lightest and painting them first, then visually considering and identifying the nature of each particular tone and layering them on...like gossamer silks floating on each other. I used to thrive on highly detailed and realistic pencil drawings of Paris scenes and commissioned portraits, and for a long time I have enjoyed the totally opposite freedom and forgiving nature of acrylics and lighthearted mixed media work. But I have now been challenged into doing some 'serious' work again by a gallery specialising in framed works rather than canvas. The hardest part is always deciding what to paint, to pick a theme, a body of work that would be my focus for a while. Although the gallery is well-reputed, which is why I'm keen to get involved, it is slightly old-school and features a lot of botanical art. After conformingly staring at some of my flower photographs for hours and just not getting myself so far as to paint them, I remembered that I have always wanted to do something with the pics of old buildings I love to snap wherever we travel. So out came the charming old hotel in Gundaroo, a little stone church in Bungendore, and a whole list started lining up in my mind, so I started drawing and painting, and it just happily flowed from my hand. At last! I got my theme.

It's often difficult for me to decide if I need to accept a new challenge or opportunity, or if it is just diverting me from more important goals. In this case, after initial resistance, I found it a pleasure to change to a different medium and style again, refreshing to rediscover old skills and build upon them, to see how my ventures with other media have influenced and perhaps even improved my approach. So here is a photo sequence of the said hotel in progress and the end result, just to show that doing watercolours isn't rocket science. It is watery washes increasing in colour strength and decreasing in surface area. I have long been thinking about painting old buildings and churches of pictures taken back in South Africa, in Europe and here in Australia. The time has come. Bring it on! I just didn't think my body of work would be in watercolours, but that's the mystery of art.