I have been fortunate enough to explore several different parts of the world and all of them have their wonders and their great buildings, their magnificent natural environments which have at times left me gasping in awe and astonishment; their galleries and museums are so professionally presented to tourists and to their own people.

Whenever  I return home I marvel yet again at the beauty of our own country.

During this last week I have stayed in a stunning part of the north-east of Victoria, on a small farm.

The home is nestled into a hillside a few kilometres outside that wonderfully named town of Yackandandah.

Sipping hot tea on a cold morning before the sun warms this glorious vista I look out over paddocks and gum trees down to a gentle meandering stream flowing softly over white pebbles and sand.

Yackandandah is a town preserved in aspic, a piece of history, shops clustered along the main street, their rickety verandas propped up with ageing wooden posts.

I woke each morning to the cacophony of bird voices. 

Grandchildren in the family already know the names of many of these birds.

Chooks and a fierce rooster squabble noisily away in their hen house.

I hear the blackbirds, thrushes, magpies, shrike tit and babblers; the exquisitely decorative rosellas so showy with their vividly coloured vests, the tiny pardalotes, scrub wrens and the blue wrens that skip around the garden cheekily take the bread from the hands of small children.

The sky is endless.

Mountains provide a powerful backdrop for the threatening clouds rolling in.

The garden of cottage flowers and masses of roses appear to be holding their breath waiting for the summer rains to arrive. 

Towering over all this colourful magnificence is the mighty claret ash, planted when the family first arrived.

It provides a canopy for all the outdoor activities of the family.

It has sheltered everything from a baby’s pram to a dog kennel, and it now shelters this second generation of family from the burning sun during hot summers.

There is still room for a game of cricket under its sweeping boughs, or a barbecue when the children and grandchildren return after leaving home to explore strange countries and experience other ways of living.

I have spent several glorious days reading in this peaceful tranquil setting, while television brings me pictures of a world seemingly gone mad.

Wars, bloodshed, mayhem. 

We are truly "the Lucky Country". We are safe.