“The Western Plains of New South Wales are grasslands.”
Imagine a desert, dust from eroded topsoil, heat making images like a blurry glass as it bakes the ground. Succulents dot the landscape like drops of batter on a cookie sheet, while bushes eek out a meagre existence on the landscape. Earth meets sky, the rays of the sun unrelenting, yet there is life, animals and birds, and what’s more, land, where a settler could come to scratch out a modest existence. Into this landscape came the parents of the author, the Kers, her father’s investment in 18,000 acres of drought-stricken land taking their every penny. With no surface water, and only a few clumps of eucalyptus, they began their married life.