To Albany

We had wild weather and heavy, indigo skies, hailstorms and violent wind gusts that rocked us as we drove to Albany on Saturday morning.

And lots of wonderful rain.

There were trees down here there and everywhere, and the country looked spectacular, particularly the vivid apple green of the paddocks.

There were electric-yellow flashes of wattle as well as lightning.

This massive rainbow made us stop and take a few photos and a quick run with the dog.

It was the first time David and I had been on a road trip with Lily and Will since we drove to Phoenix last year to see Tom Waits in concert.

Remembering this, and what an amazing trip it had been — Lily had continued east to New Mexico with an old friend while David, Will and I headed north to San Francisco via Las Vegas, the Nevada Desert, Mammoth Lake and Yosemite — we wondered if there was any part of America that we had seen that looked anything like this Great Southern landscape we were crossing.

No.

Nowhere looks like this. To a North American, or a European, used to prairies, fertile valleys, great, lush broadleaf forests, or mountains of evergreens, our nuggety, scratchy grey-green bush would surely look bedraggled and only half alive.

Whereas we know differently, and our eyes are accustomed to its sparse beauty.

On Saturday night we had a massive party for my mother's eightieth birthday (yes, she loved her picture, thank you!), and on Sunday morning we braved elements almost as rough as Saturday's

to drive back up to Perth.

And more rainbows.