I had never held a paint brush before but I gave that old homestead three coats of white paint, climbing up huge ladders propped against the high walls. I planted trees and gardens and reared chickens and turkeys. After the house was in order with new floor coverings I sent away for the writing course I intended to complete. Writing had been on my mind fora long time. I was very keen to accomplish something progressive and worthwhile. The course would hopefully steer me in the right direction.  After a long wait, the phone was at last connected and we had submitted an application to have the electricity connected.         

      Once the house was liveable and as cosy as possible, I was a little lost and lonely with two of our sons having left the nest and the third in his final years of education, a long way from home at the Agricultural College in central Queensland. I was still driving my fourth son many miles across the neighbors rough bush paddock to the school bus; and as I mentioned in an earlier blog, with the resident emus in hot pursuit. 

      Until now, writing had always been something to do in the future; and the time was absolutely right for a study course to sharpen the brain cells for the task ahead. I had turned forty. I did not want to waste anymore time and something told me I would be writing about the Australian bush.....

 Blessings...

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