A place I love is high in the sky — 360-400 odd feet to be precise of solid-jutting rock. Late summer or early autumn is the best time to enjoy it, and usually in the early hours of the morning where the crisp, morning air has condensed into what seems like solid ice but it is not; it’s really heavy fog, settling down low on the earth, filling the valleys with specters’ of white.
Full moon, bright and mysterious adds intensity to what unfolds below. From up here, at the top of my mountain you can look down and around — everywhere.
To my left (West) is the long, snaking Northern Wairoa River, meandering south to the sea; known by the local’s as the upside down river, because apparently it’s clearer at the bottom as the mud flows along the top! I doubt it.
In front of me are the hills between my mountain and the town of Dargaville. The town is nestled in between these hills and the next set of prominence, the Tutimohe Ranges. To my right, is the most spectacular in a deep, quiet morning such as this . . . The hills, like many little islands in a vast sea of white. The island edges have an eerie sense of still waters creeping stealthily, hauntingly up the banks of dark green. Random spires emerge here and there up and out of the misty oceans, of which they themselves are a random freak of nature. The sea is not flat as the real ocean, all at a single level — no! This ocean is in turmoil, only it doesn’t move. It has banked up waves and deep hollows which don’t change — that’s not true, they do change, only you need to be watching for a very long time before you notice; a most (seemingly) unnatural soup. My own, personal kingdom in the sky.
Assignment 1C HERE: