I have found myself stuck into not only my short story about Joey, the librarian, but Scrabble trying to stay alive after his shipwreck. He has now landed on the shore of Tasmania in 1792 and is being cared for by five Tasmanian animals. A Wallaby, Echidna, Bushy Tail Possum, Native Hen and Wombat. Here are the latest practice drawings of these characters.
His wine crate/raft has been turned into his house under a fig tree. Now he has fashioned some tools to keep in a pouch that the Wallaby helped to assemble (who else?)
So far I have written the story just so far putting the word ILLUS in where I want to put a picture. It is fun to write and draw stories. Speaking of stories, a soon to be new neighbor here on my street told me she was watching Snowy River, the MacGregor Saga….or something like that. I had seen the movie starring Kirk Douglas many, many years ago (The Man from Snowy River) and had no idea there was a long running series that followed. I found it and watched the whole first season already. It was free and it was cold outside, so why not!
Anyway, to see the next season, I had to pay Amazon Prime $9.99. So I did. And as the credits, etc. are rolling by, I notice that at least some episodes are written by Tony Morphett, husband to old Australian friend, Inga Hunter until his death in 2018. He wrote many stories for Australian television and I met him a couple of times at Inga’s in Katoomba. So with the memories brought back and even though the stories are quite dated, and there are almost no Australian accents, at least you can see actor Guy Pierce as a very young man, lots of horses racing through a bush full of Eucalyptus trees and feel you got your money’s worth.
Pulling out a new legal pad to write Scrabble’s story, I found this paper tucked inside. It is what I wrote in 2019 that went on a long scroll of paper with drawings of things in my studio. When I got to Australia that year, I rolled it tight and shoved it into a wine bottle that I sealed up tight and asked a friend to toss into the sea for me. I never knew if she did and it really doesn’t matter anymore….but here is what I wrote….
These are the things that lay around my studio.
I am older and do not rely on them so much anymore
to inspire, assist, and fill my hands with desires to give
them a voice in my work.
So I leave them for you in the only way I can –
Listen to what they can tell you.
S. Webster 2019
Isn’t that an interesting thing to do? Say goodbye to things that mattered so much and yet give them a voice to inspire someone else. I do some really nutty things sometimes!
I am getting old….here is the poem I read to the poetry group this week….
No One Is Listening
So her voice lowers and slows
to the pace of a recollection
taking its time to arrive.
Something she was saying
called out to a memory now returning
to comfort an old woman no longer heard.
Closing her book she walks through
their conversations, past her seat
and out the door to wait.
There was dead silence when I finished reading it. And I will interpret that as a good thing.
Not much else new…still going to the gym, still having wine with a neighbor, still going to tai chi, still trying to do what I expect of myself.