A Morning's Moment of Serenity.

From Ridgetop Hideaway's Photo Gallery

After attending the inaugural Grass Roots Writers' Gathering I was inspired to write this short poem. The weekend was terrific. Spending time with other writers, sharing their ideas, enthusiasm and support proved a resounding success.
Coffs Harbour Writers Group is going to carry the baton and try to emulate Dorrigo Writers' Group's wonderful weekend next year.

It was wonderful to spend time with Wendy Laharnar, who I have been friends with for so many years 'online'. She travelled vast distances to be there and give of her time, experience and knowledge. Her first face to face workshop proved hugely successful and popular.

Overall... the weekend was inspiring.

A morning’s moment of serenity

Sitting in the centre of a cloud.

Rain falling

Slowly, softly, serenely soaking the scene

Greens fade to grey.

Visibility closes in.

A fox stops. Looks toward the sound of my intrusion.

I am in his domain.

He pauses, ears pricked, tail still. 

Sniffs, meanders across the rain soaked paddock

Sedate steps.

Scents rise from my coffee and toast overpowering the subtle offerings of sodden foliage.

Wind whispers a chorus behind the lilting lines of Phill’s laconic lyrics.

Languid smoke lingering from last night’s fire merges with cloud. 

A brief snatch of scent curls through the air.

Coffee cools. Time passes.

Packed ready to leave these few minutes allow a moment to reflect the whirlwind weekend.

Experiences etched into memory.

Words written, absorbed, shared and kept secret.

Relationships created, nurtured, renewed.

Knowledge imparted, gained, diffused.

Generous spirits. Like minded, passionate, positive, purposeful.

Support offered, received. 

Acceptance.

The rain sets in, insistent.

It is time to return to life, normalcy.

Home beckons. 

Empty pages wait.

ADRIFT: In Search of Memory... a glimpse into the seafaring adventure...

A sneak preview. Unedited..

Chapter One/scene one

Saturated beneath oilskins, Captain Ed Brasheer spluttered through a mouthful of rain. Breathing the salt ridden wind, he braced when his small ship rolled and bucked against the heavy seas. 


Sea water sluiced over the bowsprit. Waves crashed through the scuppers, from bow to stern.

“By Orthcan’s shoal and the tides of Marnain, I’d give anything for a change in luck,” Brasheer shouted, as fate tossed his storm battered vessel on a wild ocean. The deck shuddered before dropping from the crest of another wave.

Above the tumult, the groan of stressed timber alarmed the skipper. The forward mast bowed against the force of the wind and threatened to splinter. Lashed to the helm, Brasheer ground his teeth. 

Rain and wave fought to shred storm-set sails. He lifted tired eyes as a bolt of eldritch lightning speared through dark clouds. 

“Careful what you ask for, captain,” his first mate shouted. Wind stole the words from Toby’s chapped lips. “You never know who’s listening.” 

“If we lose another mast before the season ends, this storm will ruin me.” 

Both men staggered as the ship drove her bow into another wave. The deck tilted. Again the bowsprit dug deep. For a heartbeat, Brasheer’s whole world turned on end as water washed across the vessel’s waist. 

On the forward yard, a sail shredded. A crewman screamed, falling when the sheet whipped across his face. With one foot caught in the rigging, the man swung above black water. Brasheer held his breath, afraid his vessel would spear into bottomless depths. His heart pounded. Another wave broke beneath the hull, thrusting The Petrel’s stern high into the air. 

“Get him down!” He fought to hold the ship straight into the next set of waves. “Look lively. The wind has died a little.”

“No, sir, it’s died a lot!” Even over the creaking hull, driving rain, and raging sea, Brasheer heard a note of anxiety in his first mate’s voice. The storm didn’t seem to frighten Toby as much as the tempest’s sudden demise.

“What have I done?” All around Brasheer, rain eased and furious seas settled. He refused to believe one impulsive plea could change destiny. An eerie light cast unnatural shadows across the sodden deck. “We’ve ridden through the worst, Toby. Bilge and blisters, we survived.”

“You mean our luck changed.” Toby’s words made the captain shiver. “I’ll see to getting Crimp cut down and treated.” The first mate’s face gleamed white in muted light dispersed by heavy clouds. He pointed to a bedraggled body strewn across the forward hatch. Brasheer didn’t remember the figure being there earlier. 

“What ill wind or providence would dump a stranger onto our decks in weather as foul as this?”

Brasheer shuddered. Fear gripped him as he looked into the green underbelly of storm-ridden clouds. Untying his oilskin cap, he shook his head. “I dare say we are about to find out.” 

A rumble deeper than thunder drew his gaze toward the heavens. His eyes widened and his jaw hung agape. 

He pointed a shaking finger toward a silver object floating in the sky, high above the tallest mast. Larger than the fishing boat yet hovering motionless, the glowing hulk struck terror in Brasheer’s heart. “Have you ever seen a creature as strange as that?”

Toby glanced skyward, as intense light engulfed The Petrel and the flying machine vanished from beneath the clouds. “Silt and seaweed, preserve us.” 

* * * *
photos, other than cover image, courtesy of Fotolia.com 

Article in Focus Magazine Feb 2012!!

Focus magazine's interview with Rosalie Skinner

So the interview is now online as well as in print. It's been terrific to hear from people around Coffs who have read the article.
 Would rather they used the cover photo than one of me. Hmm. Still..it is great to have the feedback and news that the Chronicles will be available soon!!

Autumn arrives...

Autumn has arrived with a vengeance. Daylight saving has ended and as if on cue Autumn arrives.
I am listening to rain on the tin roof. That magical sound that seems to encapsulate an Aussie autumn. It's not cold enough for a fire, but I have a jumper on for the first time in ages.
The other night we had a massive electrical storm.
Lying awake watching the lightning, listening to the rolling thunder and smelling the earthy dampness, but warm and snug is an experience we Aussies expect from the change in season.
We had 100ml in a little over an hour.
Autumn rain.
Tonight the blankets will come out of storage. The swimming pool is full now but it's too cold to swim.
Summer seems to have fizzled out without making a mark on this year. Other than floods, fires and cyclones. Well... that's not really a normal summer. That's Nature's fury.
Summer is supposed to be oppressive heat and humidity, flies, cicadas and sweat. Runnels of sweat, nights alive with mosquitoes, midges and the taste of Aerogard on your bbq'd steak. Now that's Summer.
Autumn is winter without any excuse to complain. It's not too cold, it's not too hot. There is a threat of cooler nights but the days here are perfect.
Winter might be lingering around the next corner, but hey... this close to the coast that's hardly a threat. We don't even get frost here.
Winter days are glorious sunshine, cold brisk breezes and hours of whale watching.
Autumn's Peril.. Great name for a book.. but in truth, here there is very little peril in Autumn. Not here, in the lucky country. What do you reckon?

More Covers...

THREE more covers. You can see why I want to share them. This is an exciting time. So grateful to Delilah, Rachel, Matt and Lisa for their help in creating these wonderful images. Now, as long as the books themselves are as good as the covers!!! ;) We'll have to wait till Sept to see.