A Flying Rabbit

Yesterday we spent our first night in a caravan park in Junee beside a small lake that was being emptied as we slept. Apparently there was a pipe problem, and the contents had to be removed by connecting sprinklers, washing cars, hosing gardens...... a myriad of means that seems criminal to people  in areas desperate to save every drop.

    so as we snored. the water sunk lower and lower.

We were on the road early this morning after washing the dead locusts of the front of the rig grill, bonnet, windscreen and top .

We had driven through, not another storm, but a plague of grasshoppers. Trillions of them zoomed straight into the front of the rig like fighter pilots on a death mission as we rolled towards Wagga Wagga, where not only apparently the crows fly backwards to keep the dust out of their eyes, but the insects suicide into travelling traffic.

Today we had a pleasant journey from Junee to Forbes, wandering leisurely along the Highway  as HUGE transport trucks swept past us in roars of shining metal. During our wandering, Skin was delighted to see a flying rabbit in an old aircraft appear in the sky outside his window, and we talked again about the fighter pilots in World War 2.

The road we took to the Newell Highway was strewn with Bindi grasses, dancing across the road like dry, discoloured snowflakes. It was like driving through a summer blizzard.

For several hours we meandered through this 'Bindi country' and because the sight became a tad repetitious, I cleaned the dash board, then the front panels and even had a swipe at the glove box and side doors.

To my surprise, just as I finished my housework, a sign flashed past my window saying we were in the Shire of BLAND!!!!!

   OF COURSE WE WERE!!!!!