A koala perched high in a gum tree remains elusive on my daily lookout, though I'm noticing other things. Sunsets here are grey and apricot. Not soft and fluffy, more steely and electric. Neon sunsets.

The way the last rays encase the tall, slender gum trees in white-gold armour stops me in my tracks. I have to touch them with my fingertips. And when a breeze insinuates itself through the ashen green leaves, they whisper tales of long, long ago. I swear I can hear the rhythmic fall of soft footsteps in scorching desert sand as the ancient people go walkabout.

There's a part of me that is understanding this harsh country like I never have before. Everything, everyone, everywhere has its own beauty.

Tonight, as the sun disappears behind the outer island, the dogs flop panting on the grass and watch me become part of the past as my breath weaves itself into the glowing bark. The trees bow their limbs in in understanding. I turn around as darkness descends and see my furry friends and I are alone with old stories sighing through the park and out over the water.

We head for the car and come back into the bright light of now having shared moments of pure magic.

Time for a wine.