The previous blog post doesn’t tell the full story of just how crazy yesterday was, suffice to say that by the end of the day I was in Launceston, and by 15 minutes before my class was due to start today I was back in Hobart. Both legs of the trip — up and back — had their picturesque moments, but I barely had time to stop.
The dry summer is supposed to be coming to an end but we’re into autumn and they’re forecasting 27°C for tomorrow which is very mild; the legacy of the lack of rain is kilometre after kilometre of sun-bleached fields, where the long grasses are interrupted by the stubborn thistles raising their mocking heads above the soft ocean of pale gold. I don’t think this was the best shot I could have taken, but I needed a safe place to stop and, when you’re cruising at 110km/h, it takes a bit of distance to stop after spotting a likely location and I knew I didn’t have time to mess around walking back to where I’d seen something useful.
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