Nineteen Sixty Nine

By All Accounts, A Most Incredible Year

More than 400,000 music fans attended Woodstock.  Sesame Street started teaching children all the ingredients that make up a sunny day.  The Beatles recorded their final album, Abbey Road.  Boeing debuted the 747 jumbo jet.  Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid entertained film goers while on the small screen Roger Moore was still a saint and John Cleese introduced the world to a new kind of humour.
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Just One Love?

For me to interpret just One Love is akin to choosing a favourite child – impossible.   I have too many loves: my husband, my children, my friends, flowers,  the natural world, space and all things cosmic, creativity, art, music, dance, bushwalking, singing (though I know I sound terrible).  I could go on – there are so many things – but I’ll stop right there.

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The White Cow Called Lucky

And the Metal Monster that Missed

She always knew she was different, the White Cow Called Lucky, after all, the other cows in the herd were dark.  Not black and not dark brown like dirt, but almost the colour of the leaves as they wither and fall from the eucalyptus trees in paddock.

No, the White Cow Called Lucky wasn’t brown at all, she wasn’t the colour of the falling leaves.  She was the colour of the tree trunk, that hard stoic white part of the tree that stands tall and holds the leaves before they died.
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A galaxy of poetry, short stories, tall tales, and other assorted creative items.