100th Post!

Back when I started this blog, I wasn't sure if I would keep doing it or not, but family and friends, and I think some others, check my blog regularly, and I find that thinking about what I will write during the day, or taking photos for my blog, keep me motivated. It's also a great reminder of what we have done here, and what our lives are like, and I hope my daughter will enjoy looking back on it one day.

I've been racking my brains all day for something to make this 100th post memorable, and finally I came up with this. It's a poem I wrote in Grade 6 or 7, and after much searching, it seems I have lost the original (although I am still hoping that it's somewhere in an unopened box that I will find again one day), so this is from memory, and I think some of it is missing. I seem to recall it being longer than this! Anyway, hope you enjoy.

She saw again the old log hut, each tree felled by her dad,

She remembered how the cattle died, the year the drought was bad,

She felt again the welcoming warmth from the crackling kitchen fire,

As the rain beat on the iron roof, while outside the floods rose higher.

Her fingers traced the stitches fine, each worked by a loving hand,

To join the patches of their lives, in an unforgiving land.

"Come on Gran, it's time to go, there's nothing here to see,

Just a tumbled down old shack, beneath a mango tree.

So come on Gran, it's time to go, it isn't very far

It won't take long, the roads are good, just half an hour by car."

The trip back from that old log hut, if only they could see,

Takes half an hour for them it's true, but ninety years for me.