Ah summer. The season beckons like a water bag on a hot day. Yet out here in the sticks not for the us the Gidget-esk hurly-burly of beach, babes and boys. Out here it’s flies, dust and heat. Heat of the 40 degree plus kind where grown men seek the shade of wilga trees and dream of retiring to the coast and selling ice-creams for a living. Me, I’d settle for a mild summer of the 38 degree variety. Call me indolent however afternoons under a very large air-conditioner is my mid-summer preference. The livestock go out on strike for the duration (Qantas employees take note), you could fry an egg on the back path and one’s social life suddenly looks remarkably good, spent indoors. Barbies at 10 pm are suddenly the norm. It takes that long for the atmosphere to cool down to a liveable temperature. Like the desert it does get cool eventually. 2 am is a noticeable moment. The air suddenly freshens, the insects grow tired of mounting wave assaults and the stars patch the holes in the sky with an other-worldly sparkle.

If it wasn’t for the rain water tank I’d been buying shares in bottled water. 3 litres a day is my average intake during summer and if I partake of a tasty beverage in the evening I have to make it 4 litres. Dehydration is a common and exhausting condition in the bush with many people not always recognising the symptoms. Me, well I’ve had the whole dehydration, low blood pressure equals feeling faint, now I’m prepared.

And while we’re talking all things summer and the glossies are spruiking platforms, tousled hair and metallics; my summer ‘must haves’ (apologies to Instyle Magazine) include staminade, blockout, a long sleeved shirt and a hat!

Yet there is nothing quite like the shimmering blue haze of the scrub on a hot afternoon and once I peel myself of the work truck’s seat and retreat indoors I know by morning I’ll be greeted with an unadultered horizon people would pay to see.