Cirrus@Austlit

'The road down the centre of Yorke Peninsula stretches south in a long unwavering line towards a distant vanishing point. Sweeping plains of golden wheat to the east and west overlay bones of white limestone, interspersed here and there with silver salt pans that shimmer, mirage-like, in summer heat. On either side, the sea and sky encircle a blue horizon. The only trees in this landscape cluster along the road verges, thick and scrubby, rarely more than 20 feet tall. I love this place, with its open vistas—it is the landscape of my childhood—but it is hardly the place I’d expect to find a koala.'  (Introduction)