Welcome to Dandelion Magic.

My first camera was my father’s old Box Brownie, taken on a school excursion to the Snowy Mountains.
The initial photograph I remember capturing was of the great pipes of the Snowy Mountains Scheme cascading over the hillside through drifting mist and cold mountain air, at least as seen through the eyes of a young girl filled with awe and wonder.

Something about that moment stayed with me.

For many years, life moved in other directions. I became a teacher, raised children, created endlessly with my hands, and later spent time photographing surf sport in Queensland — refining lenses, movement, timing, while polishing insight and instinct.

But photography was always there quietly waiting for me.

These days, my camera is more often turned toward the coastline, changing light, weathered textures, movement, stillness, and the small details many people walk past without noticing.

I’m drawn less to perfect landscapes and more to feeling.
The way light briefly touches water.
The curve of wind through grasses.
Patterns left behind by tide, rain, rust, bark, stone, or time itself.

The most meaningful images, for me, aren’t carefully manufactured.
They’re noticed.

Photography has become a way of paying attention to the world — to fleeting moments, subtle shifts, and quiet beauty that exists whether anyone stops to see it or not.

My work is shaped by the landscapes of the Sapphire Coast, though my photographs stretch far beyond it. I didn’t realise until recently that a camera has often been in my hand ready to find those elusive moments I love so well.

Clouds, waves, driftwood and moss have always stopped me. Even now. There’s something about their movement, their scale, their constant change that feels both grounding and infinite.

The name Dandelion Magic grew from that same idea.

Dandelions are often dismissed as weeds, yet they remain resilient, bright, adaptable, and capable of travelling extraordinary distances when the wind rises. There is something deeply familiar to me in that. 

I saw a line once about dandelions that has stayed in my mind.

‘An adult sees a paddock of weeds – a child sees a thousand wishes.’

Their appeal to me is not despite their windswept wildness — but because of it.

It’s the wildest winds that encourage the seeds to fly the furthest.