Far and high lay the Three Mile Dam; far and high and solitary.
No fishable water lay higher; none in those days was more remote.
The old gold-seekers had made it, by damming Bullock’s Head Creek, and there in its basin right on top of the mountains it lay, the great broad circle of it in the rolling landscape, blue and silver to the sky, shivering in the slightest breeze, rimmed with low banks where alpine daisies glittered like snowflakes among the flowering heath, and guinea-flowers and bulbine lilies, with minute white orchids among them, shone gold and yellow like the sun.
Sky and water and flowers.
Douglas Stewart, The Seven Rivers
