Stories from my Sketchbook . . .
Before I moved back to the coast about 13 years ago I lived for many years in Armidale, up high on the Northern Tablelands. Armidale is a beautiful place, and unlike much of the rest of Australia, it also has four distinct seasons. My favourite season has always been the autumn and I especially loved those Armidale autumns. The nights would be getting cooler and the early mornings would often be foggy, but when the fog burnt off the days were bright and sunny and still quite warm . . .
. . . and the city itself was gorgeous—everywhere you looked there were corridors of trees all dressed in the most magnificent autumn colours . . .
(I realise I might sound a little nostalgic here but I would like to point out that I am very happy living here in the Camden Haven and I am not remembering Armidale entirely through ‘autumn-coloured’ glasses. Armidale autumns were gorgeous, that’s true—but the winters were downright vicious. It was those long . . . long . . . long . . . icy winters that eventually drove me away and back to more temperate climes . . . )