I had to smile at Lee Curnow’s reply email when I told him that I wouldn’t be submitting a column last week as we were going away: “Ooh dear, you don’t realise how much you appreciate something until it’s not there do you?” It’s lovely to be valued.
We had a wonderful week. One of those times which will live on in our collective memories as a marvellous time.
First up was our son Seamus’s Adelaide University graduation ceremony. He has got a job in Sydney and flew to Adelaide.
Our other son, Darcy, flew from Melbourne and our pseudo adopted son, Rowan, came with him.
It was so good to be together for a couple of days.
We only had three tickets to get into the ceremony for the four of us.
We developed a plan of attack which involved John showing the tickets to the person for scanning and we three would huddle together in an amorphous group which slowly kept moving forward.
It worked like a dream and Rowan was astonished at our success and audacity.
It was grand to see Seamus walk across the stage and receive his Bachelor of Media, the culmination of four years of study, a new life in the city, new friends and interests.
The next day was my 60th birthday. We had a lovely walk and lunch in the Botanical Gardens. In the evening, we had dinner with family and friends.
It was great to catch up with Margy Goodhart (nee Badman) who lived over our back fence when we were growing up and was a very good friend of my sister.
Her husband is an artist and he presented me with one of his paintings. Such a treasure.
John and I then went on a road trip to the Victorian Mallee to catch up with friends and to see the painted art silos in the Yarriambiack Shire.
I loved the huge portraits painted on grain silos at Patchewollock, Brim, Sheep Hills and Rupunyup.
I am awed by the artists’ ability to paint to scale on such large canvases.
It is good to get out of your own space and travelling through the Mallee landscape was refreshing.
Mallee country is big. The sky is huge. The blue dome arcs and stretches from one distant horizon all the way around.
The paddocks are big; some paddocks are bigger than our entire farm. – Moira Neagle, firstname.lastname@example.org.