Nothing to Report

 I had to hot-foot home from the Chalkface today under the threat of rain.

Luckily, the storm didn't amount to too much.

 There's not much to report; I've taken to talking about the weather.

 I'm back at the Chalkface.

And reminiscing about the past.

 Fashioning frippery.

On holidays.

Getting up early and going back to bed.

 Making One-of-a-Kind Floras for the Guild's lovely craft fair.

Two floors of gifts.

Get in early.

 

 Frocking up for the last lunch that lasts three hours.

Having time to notice things.

 Said, 'Hello' to the bamboo.

 Finally, I've got buds on my two year old camellia!

I'll be guarding these.

 I'm recalling the holiday's frippery.

 Quality time spent.

Work-shopping Mister Finch.

 Eating cakes.

 Popping the cork.

 Had a lovely Easter.

That Lindt bunny's long gone.

 The Dog-the-Year is missing the attention.

 I'm reliving basket weaving.

Weva Deva's magic

at Northey Street Community markets.

 Collecting cat's creeper.

Slicing banana trunk.

Didn't really want to tell you that my basket

has failed to make progress.

Better get it finished.

Stay perky.



 

 



All out on Cat's Claws

 To be honest, all I can think about at the moment is Cat's Claw.

The vine we used at Northey Street to make our baskets.

My first effort of partial completion is now undone

and I've taken time to think more and use a few bits of weavable intrigue

I had lying around the House of Flora.

Like this silk sequined stripped Easton Pearson trim, I bought as a handful

of spaghetti at their remnant sale, a while back.

Don't worry, I still suffered for my art; had to sew the strip on to

the banana fibre first.

 I was up early today, in search of more Cat's Claw.

Back down to Northey Street, via Downey Park.

Coming for a walk with me?

 Gave the circuit work stations a miss, though.

 Spied the Claw.

Did those mangroves a favour and set them free.

 Headed to Bowen Bridge Heritage Walk.

Caught up with the Turrbal people, and the past.

 

The Turrbal people shared some stories, I said, 'Thank you', and I heard them

whisper, 'You are welcome.'

 

 There's the Turrbal people's totem, the freshwater eel, curled.

 Crossed the bridge to Northey Street.

 Spreading their message.

 Here's one of the for rent garden beds.

Interested?

 Isn't it lovely?

 Remember to wear your hat.

 I'm off to weave.