It had the tang of eucalypt mixed with horse sweat and saddle soap. It was a cattle property, mainly, with some sheep, on land full of gullies and ridges. The house was long and low. Soon after we arrived, it grew even larger. Uncle Donald added two new rooms for us and lengthened the verandah. Lilly pilly bushes and quince trees grew around it, with an apple orchard out the back and one big cherry tree. The rhythm of life here was based around the men going out on the horses every morning. Up at dawn, porridge and salt in the early sharp light, and back in the evening tired and sweaty and smelling of bush. Maggie, John and I could all ride after a fashion, but on The Plenty ‘after a fashion’ wasn’t good enough. So Uncle Donald gave us all our own horses, tough little Welsh cobs, and took us out on long rides, mustering cattle or moving sheep from one paddock to the next according to the feed available. My riding lessons with Mrs L’Estrange put me ahead for a little while, but the others soon caught me up.
