'We had huddled together a long time in the shed

in the scent of vanished corn and wild bush birds, and then the hammering faltered, and the torn cobwebs ceased their quivering and hung still from the nested rafters. We became uneasy at the silence that grew about us, and came out. The beaded violence had ceased.'

That's the first verse and a bit of Les Murray's magnificent 'Spring Hail' from the collection, 'The Ilex Tree.' We are not even remotely near spring, unlike our northern neighbours and have yet to endure winter's dispossessions. I like the beginning of June, but this old house is poorly set up for mid-winter.

Still in autumn, though nearing a midway point, we have rain and more rain. At this time of the year we usually experience warm sunny days, cool evenings and the gradual turning of the exotics. It is invariably dry too.

Yesterday there was a large earthquake in Myanmar, one which also rattled adjacent Thailand. A building collapsed in Bangkok. Ann has been busily searching the news online for information. Suffice it to say that she is no longer keen on buying a condo in a high-rise complex.

I hope that those buried under the rubble can be found alive and that lessons can be learned.

I quote from 'Spring Hail' above because I love the poem and also because it will open Episode 48 of 'Writers from the Vault'. There is a lot of good Australian writing and I have only just touched the surface.