A fog lingered between the eastern green hills and the western sheep-filled slopes that lead down to the Lachlan Valley, lined with eucalyptus trees.
The elevated eastern horizon filtered the last of the late afternoon sun through a lone row of trees spaced at odd intervals along a planate ridge. Vineyards with angled furrows, their vines tinged with yellow sunlight, created criss-cross patterns down the west side all the way down to the shimmering Lachlan River that runs through the town of Cowra in New South Wales, Australia.
I drove up from the base of the valley on a dusty road in a borrowed Nissan Navara, past rows of clusters of white and rose-tinted grapes weighing heavily on their vines on this 40-degree day. As I crested the hill, I turned right at a "For sale" sign and into the Vineyards Motel.