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Clover covered mountains helped paint a delightful scenic view, while rainbow-lorikeets which danced from tree to tree, comically entertained me. There I walked along the dusty rural road, mentally berating myself for moving to such a remote part of Australia. I was lonely, slightly depressed and somewhat overwhelmed by the silence. Yes the occasional battered up truck would ramble past, stirring up a great cloud of dust, but these were few and far between. The driver would honk, slow down, smile and ask if I needed a lift, then drive off after I'd thank them but refuse, thus to leave me with my depressive thoughts.

Where I was initially heading I can not recall, but as I walked on, the intoxicating aroma of jasmine filled the air. My beautiful genteel Border Collie Bella walked along beside me, often finding something to chase within the shrubs and then bouncing back up to me with a look off doggy excitement on her pretty face. As we came to the crest of a hill the aroma of jasmine became almost overpowering, yet I smelt roses as well. I was certain I smelt roses, I shook my head, roses out here, where cattle is knee-deep and methane gas is overwhelming? Surely not!

But yes, as Bella and I came to the very top of the hill I could see a very dilapidated little farm house sitting beside a thin narrow creek. Roses of all colours covered just about every part of the house; the fence and the gate as well. Jasmine wrapped itself around the house like a coccoon encompasses a sleeping butterfly. Ducking beneath the barb-wire fence I slowly walk up to the deserted house with Bella trotting beside me. Perhaps Bella enjoyed the scent as well, she seemed to be dancing along with much more enthusiasm.

As I peeked through a dust covered window, I almost fell over backwards. There was someone in there and they were staring straight at me! I don't know who got the biggest shock, him, her, it, or me. It was hard to tell exactly what I was looking at, the face was a bright green ( I was later to learn that it was a female wearing a mud-pack.) The things women do in the name of beauty. The head was covered with a canary yellow bandana and the mouth was open in a lusty scream. Obviously I'd scared her just as she had scared me.

Another face appeared at the window and this was the face of dark haired little boy of approximately three years old. The woman must have realized that she still wore the mud-pack as she put her two hands to her face and yelled "Turn your head, oh

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