‘Beth wearily ran the fingers of her left hand through a few unruly strands of her flowing auburn hair which had escaped the confining ribbon imprisoning the rest of it at the nape of her neck. Half-heartedly, she endeavoured to push them clear of her forehead. Leaning heavily against the solid, wooden gate post, she surveyed the desolation which stretched away in front of her, into the copper haze of the dying sun. The level paddocks of her 5,000 odd acre farm were held in the merciless grip of a north-western New South Wales drought.’
***
‘Both Beth and Vern saw the next strike clearly. It savagely rent the sky, spearing into the far side of the paddock which held the failed crop of wheat. The roar of its passage to earth took less than a second to assail their ears and, in the distance they saw the little flock of sheep running wildly in circles, in a futile attempt to avoid that which had already passed it by.
'What's that?' asked Vern, pointing to where the lightning had struck. 'Is that fire?'
'Oh God! It is too!' Beth answered when she saw the thin coil of blue smoke trailing up from the point of the lightning's impact.’
***
The reader will accompany Beth and her farm 'out of the ashes' of World War II and the drought to find love and the prospect of prosperity.