I flop on the soft rusty-coloured dirt, and see the Sturt Desert Peas staring back at me. They sway from side to side like they are dancing.

Rustle, rustle, I look around. A little field mouse is running around, I hold out my hand, it sniffs it "Hey, that tickles!" I say as it runs off. I pick a Sturt Desert Pea and twirl it around my finger: I tuck it behind my ear. I take a deep sniff...sweet, sweet pollen fills my lungs.

All of a sudden a familiar voice calls my name. "Ameila, dinner's ready." I run back to the house, bare feet in the dirt...