Every morning come rain hail and rarely shine we take a walk along the old railway line that runs opposite up. It meanders through the hills covered in eucalypt, over gorges of tree ferns and along babbling brooks for 13 kilometers. The air is thick with smells and sounds of the land and sky. The track is carpeted with fallen gum leaves as the weather warms. I have begun collecting them, fascinated by their rich tapestry of colour and pattern. I am toying with ideas for a new work.