As a child in the 1950’s, I spent a lot of my time in Milson Park at North Sydney, New South Wales. My parents never seemed to worry too much about me when I was there. Continue reading “When I Made History”
When driving in country NSW I noticed an old building. Fenced off on a hillside in a paddock, this lonely, discarded little church of local granite stone appeared to have lost its identity and use. Whether harvest or drought, birth or death, gain or loss, war or peace, the church was expected to always be there and find some meaning in it all. And now churches are quietly vanishing from the landscape, ‘their future … denied’. Continue reading “There is a Green Hill (song)”
Very little is known about the woman called Charcoal Annie. She roamed the Riverina district of southern New South Wales, a lone woman swaggy whose home was usually an encampment near a river. She collected the wood which had often become trapped near the river bends of the Murray and Murrumbidgee, after it had been washed down by flood waters. Continue reading “Charcoal Annie: She Died A Mystery”
There is a statue of the Australian poet and writer Henry Lawson in the Sydney Domain. Fixed to one place, it could be considered an uncharacteristic representation of a man who moved about so much during his life. High in the Blue Mountains at Mt Victoria there are other memorials to Lawson. On a cliff edge above the Kanimbla Valley, a rock platform has been dedicated to his memory. Just below this rock there remains part of a cliff-top walk.