We drove west, past the furniture superstores and the car dealerships, past Parramatta and Katoomba and Leura, to where there were mountains and sky and big space all around, the land dotted with horses and cows and lovely sheep. Bathurst, gorgeous with its old mining-town buildings. Orange, where there was a chicken kebab with tabouleh and sweet chilli sauce for lunch. Mount Canobolas, rain and snow and hail all at once, and black tree silhouettes blurry through the air white with mist. Sofala, all its houses little and wooden, some leaning, one with a sheep keeping guard on the porch. Just past sunset we checked into Room 19 at the Mudgee Motor Inn. Outside our window, a brown horse munched at a grassy dinner.



Sunday morning brought the sun, and a cinnamon doughnut covered with pink icing and sprinkles. We drove through the vineyards, rows and rows of bare, gnarled branches, and the local radio deejay played “Venus.” At the Windamere Dam, a hot tandoori lamb pie and a raspberry cream tart. At the Jenolan Caves, gum trees with stripped bark and the Blue Lake of turquoise sparkle mystery blue.

On the way home, dude in a neighbor car picked his nose through darkened windows not dark enough, then saw me see him.