With a mug of tea in hand, I squinted into the sun already threatening to crest the tree line. I’d slept in and it was nine before I’d loaded the ute.
Tuesday had been arduous. I’d given the butchering shed another scrub down. I spent the afternoon hand-washing clothes, a rare event but I was keen to get every bit of me and my apparel clean and fresh smelling. At dusk, I went out on the hunt. I hadn’t expected to get lucky, but I came back with two small deer, probably because Con hadn’t gone out on his usual road-kill expedition. What with the field dressing, and then the skinning, I was exhausted by the end of it all. Needing to keep my fridge going overnight, I had to drag myself to the generator to top up the diesel. Then I radioed Rick to arrange collection and fell into bed and into
