Her blonde hair was a little grey at the temples and here and there, but it was straight, hanging down onto her back, old hippie style. ‘Ann Wosniak... pleased to meet you,’ she took my hand and shook it confidently. I stepped around to see the painting. It was really, really good! I was impressed. ‘I love it!’ I said, I think with a bit of startled tone in my voice. ‘Do you really like it?’ she asked, a little concerned. ‘Yeah, I really do. You’re a fantastic artist.’ After a moment I continued,. The skein of geese swept low down the river, wildly honking as they talked amongst themselves. The leader was too busy piloting to chat. Eyeing the bridge ahead, he swept majestically upwards, taking the group up, over, and then swooping down the other side and out of sight. Distant splashing told the tale of their arrival further downstream. Shortly they would wade ashore and start grazing as they fed in the warmth of the late afternoon.The sounds of the river generally were muted in the. More

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