The Streams became Rivers


I found myself on the goldfields near Kalgoorlie once again, but this time it was Autumn.  The place of my painting inspirations. The rains had started early and when I awoke to the sound of running water right near the camp, I was alarmed! Rushing out to have a look, I saw that the night of rain had created a body of moving water, only about 6cm deep but moving non-the-less. We were on higher ground so was not affected. But I was also excited because the moving water always gave up little treasures – a little tincture bottle here, and old tin can, or parts of broken furniture. These were from the colonial days when the whole area was a-buzz with people wanting to make their fortune from striking that ‘golden reef’! For me, the treasures were the bits of life that was left behind.

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