All the hills are brown
All the hills are brown and the skies are grey.
Leaving Napier this morning at 9:30, we headed into a dry area. The locals are crying for rain, and the grey skies look promising.
Heading further south we did encounter rain. I really believe each little city is sad when we leave and happy when we arrive at the next place, because the rain mysteriously stops.
This is very hilly country, dotted with sheep and cattle. The hills are rippled horizontally from eons of sheep walking back and forth, creating skinny little hoof paths. It gives each hill the appearance of extreme age, as if it's wearing a skin that is too heavy, sagging in wrinkles and puddles at the ground.
We've seen some odd cattle, bisected in the middle by a wide saddle of white. The front third is all black, the middle is a thick which band of white, and the hindquarters are also all black.
Leaving Napier this morning at 9:30, we headed into a dry area. The locals are crying for rain, and the grey skies look promising.
Heading further south we did encounter rain. I really believe each little city is sad when we leave and happy when we arrive at the next place, because the rain mysteriously stops.
This is very hilly country, dotted with sheep and cattle. The hills are rippled horizontally from eons of sheep walking back and forth, creating skinny little hoof paths. It gives each hill the appearance of extreme age, as if it's wearing a skin that is too heavy, sagging in wrinkles and puddles at the ground.
We've seen some odd cattle, bisected in the middle by a wide saddle of white. The front third is all black, the middle is a thick which band of white, and the hindquarters are also all black.
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