The Spring rains claim the horizon. In a flotilla of Nimbus clouds they cover the outback sky in a vaporous palette of grey, granite and ash. Calm descends over the plains once the rain has ceased and the floodwaters quietly gush. The rivers swell and the sunburnt earth is temporarily submerged as the water begins to re-sculpt the landscape.
An atmospheric blue canopy hangs over the lonely outback roads. Ahead the scrubland forms a scrappy line of horizon; a divider preventing the seemingly infinite skies from engulfing more of the plains below. The native eucalyptus, with their underground adaptations, endure the blazing sun as they have for millennia past. The breeze that flows through the Mallee plays an ancient score; the melodic crashing of waves that once broke over Australia's inland sea. Never feeling as far from home as we have in this desolate corner, we uncovered beauty and a stillness seldom found. And lived the lesson; that whilst you may not always arrive at the place you were aiming for, it is the journey once sought that dispels the most truth, as you venture toward a place which you may never find.
As the wind ruffles the acacia leaves, you can hear the echo of the waves that once crashed over this ancient inland sea. Now all that remains is this dry, harsh scrubland and a stillness that dwells over the plains.