The station was twenty kilometres east of Norseman along the Eyre highway, then another twenty kilometres north along a red dirt track. The flat, treeless plain had ended, and there were views of escarpments and gentle blue hills. Ancient hardwoods bordered the potholed track, which would be a quagmire after rain. At the homestead paddock, the gate was rusted and sagging, so I had to lift and drag it open and closed. The outbuildings were in disrepair, but the homestead was large, grand, and dignified even in its encroaching decrepitude. The lovely veranda, which must have once seen thousands of afternoon teas and alfresco lunches, sagged at the side like a beautiful horse brought to its knees. Kangaroos had made free with the garden, and what must have been a luxuriance of native plants w
