Is there anything better than lying on a picnic blanket in the bush, warmed by mild spring sunshine, gazing at gum leaves glittering in the light, thinking about … absolutely nothing?

I've just done a semi-energetic horse ride through Wolgan Valley in search of an elusive baby wombat, through a grove where six Wollemi pines (an ancient branch of the conifer family, once thought extinct) are being cultivated.