The early mornings when I walk, cup of tea in hand, amongst the trees, occasionally spying a quietly-grazing wallaby; when I feed the almost tame ducks in the pond who share the food I give them with the one lonely black rabbit that for so long has defied the foxes; when I take out the tin of dog-food to the five kookaburras that are lining up on the verandah; when I sit on the jetty and watch the boats go by; when I listen to little Rover softly snoring on the pillow beside me ...
Still, I'll be back in three weeks' time and isn't the homecoming always the best part of travelling?