Upstairs, two feral kittens frolicked in ballistic circles around my bed. Their knife-like claws tearing holes in my new comforter.
In the bed, I pulled a pillow over my head, trying to ignore all these sounds. It was 3am, and for the past week, these wild animal occurrences had commenced nightly. I, like my cottage, was going crazy.
Noticing this, Bob decided I could do for a weekend away. He surprised me with a weekend in Orange, a town four hours west of Sydney, over the ridge of the Blue Mountains.
It was a beautiul drive over ranges and into rolling farmland. The town of Orange is still in the midst of a transformation between farm town, to a refined wining and dining location.
Overlooking working farms, large vineyards, and the town of Orange, the extinct volcano of Mount Canobolas towers over the land.
Bob and I drove to the summit, but the winds were so cold at the top that we barely took the time for a photo before diving into the car and driving back down.
Back in farmland, we passed, what I must say, was the ugliest horse I'd ever seen.
We stayed at a lovely bed and breakfast run by a nice lady named Sally.
Not only did she make us a great breakfast each morning, but gave us fantastic food and winery recommendations. Bob and I spent the rest of our time following Sally's advice.
When we returned to Sydney on Sunday, it was with filled stomachs, a trunk full of wine, and a relaxed smile upon our faces.