There is poetry in the place names of country Victoria, poetry in the landscape too. The drive to Wodonga on the Murray and the border of Victoria and NSW is tiresome - straight down the Motorway, the road hardly deviates for three hours. But when I stopped and looked around it is another story. All the rain has fed the creeks and rivers and fields - the grass is lush and cattle look well fed and content. And once again, the wattle is blossoming everywhere. The clear blue of a wide sky, bordered by mountains and fields dotted with pink and white cherry blossom and a road lined by wattle like fireworks. Mostly though it is the undulating hills which stretch across the landscape like a serpents back while Toot Toot makes her merry way along that capture my imagination.
I am visiting my pal, Kirsty and her wondrous son Jarrah in Wodonga. This morning they took me to Yackandandah and we wondered the old shops, spent some time in the Museum and the old park. I am always amazed at the war memorials in country towns - long lists of names, sometimes three or four in one family, who perished on the other side of the world.
This also makes me wonder about the aboriginal history of the area - the Murray would have provided a rich feast with lots of bird life and a flood plain for grazing mammals. Hopefully I will discover more over the next few days.