We wound our way back down the State of New South Wales through pretty towns like Cootamundra and Young (cherry capital of Australia) and ugly ones like Albury-Wodonga and then we were back in Victoria and we turned towards the high country and stopped in Bright and stayed there for three days.
Bright is a ideal name for a place to stay in the middle of the coldest winter for forty years. Nestled among forest deep in the foothills of the Australian Alps, it is the prettiest town in Australia, maybe the world. Summer’s green turns to stunning reds, yellows and oranges during autumn and this is when most people visit, but it is starkly beautiful in winter as well with pale sunlight filtering through the tracery of bare trees.
In the early afternoon, I went for a long walk with William in his stroller (the three-wheeled jogging type, easy to negotiate), while T. rested; and we went up the steep hills at the back of the town where the streets switch back and forth and found ourselves almost at the top and turned around and the town looked something like this. Sometimes when you gaze at a view, everything goes silent and time seems to stand still. It was like that.
Then we went down the hill and back to our little apartment. T. had woken and made afternoon tea. We had scones with jam and cream. William got the jam and cream all over his face. He's a robust eater. Loves his food.