Skip to main content

Open country

We are now heading towards the rather oddly named Palmers Oakey.  The pine trees have given away to open grazing country. The soft mounds of the hills - like the earth is loosely draped in a green cloth.

The road sign says that 30kms hence there is a low lying bridge that becomes impassible in the wet. Well it has been wet but we decide to take the risk. Meanwhile Madam Tom Tom bleats "Turn around."


  1. Those undulating hills are so beautiful Joan.
    Madam Tom Tom is quite unadventurous - luckily you ignore her bleats ;D)

  2. Wonderful view Joan - thanks for sharing more of our beautiful country. Wishing you safe travels always and "happy snapping".

  3. I think the place we stayed at last Easter, Turon Gates, is in those hills. It's pretty unspoilt in there. Interesting to see the pastoral side of the country.

    1. It is in the same area but south west of Turon Gates.

  4. This is the classic scene that grabs your eye, Joan. The countryside is looking splendid ... except for the bits that are under-water. I was listening to a poor fruit farmer on the tele last evening explain how his trees, being in more than a metre of water for a few days, would all eventually die. Not sure how farmers drag themselves out of bed some seasons. Drought, drought, flood, drought ...


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The end

I retire from the workforce this week and to celebrate have decided to retire my current blogs and start afresh with a single consolidated blog - My Bright Field - to record the delights of my new life adventure.
If you are interested follow me over there.  I will still be Sweet Wayfaring and collecting Royal Hotels.  The delights I discover along the way will appear together with my gardens and towns where I live.

Blue Wren

Having finished the circuit at the zoo we settled down for a nice lunch at the cafe. This chirpy little blue wren came close to our table while his brown wife Jenny jumped playfully on the grass. Nesting swallows swooped in an out of the rafters.
Musing:The Blue Wrens and the Butcher Bird by Judith Wright
"Sweet and small the blue wren
whistles to his gentle hen,
"The creek is full, the day is gold,
the tale of love is never told.
Fear not, my love, nor fly away,
for safe, safe in the blackthorn-tree
we shall build our nest today.
Trust to me, oh trust to me."

Cobwebs they gather and dry grass,
greeting each other as they pass
up to the nest and down again,
the blue wren and the brown wren.
They seek and carry far and near,
down the bank and up the hill,
until that crystal note they hear
that strikes them dumb and holds them still.

Great glorious passion of a voice--
sure all that hear it must rejoice.
But in the thorn-bush silent hide
the nest-builders side by side.

Royal Hotel - Ganman

And I wrap up this trip with the Royal Hotel at Ganman.