It is early winters morning in Albert town. The township lying below you has not yet woken from it’s deep elongated sleep. Curtains and drapes cover every square inch of bare window attempting to keep the darkness out, however the darkness still finds a way to crawl through the unforeseeable cracks to invade the sleeping households. Trickles of thin grey smoke produced by the dying breath of the last logs on the fire meandered through the frozen air, providing proof that the town is still alive. Stars would have shone high and bright above you, if it weren’t for the thick light absorbing inversion layer consuming the town. Not even the penetrating rays of light reflected from the retreating moon could puncture the belly of the beast. Leaving all beneath in an awe consuming sea of darkness.
You step outside into the frost soaked morning. Sheets of ice, layer after layer conceal everything in a colorless cloak. Frozen strands of grass shiver in the heat sucking breeze. Threats of overnight snow were traded for a lifeless breeze sucking the heat right out of your lungs with each abrupt breath, and on release forms a cloud of mystical floating mist which quickly evaporates into the thin mountain breeze. The frost carrying trees struggle to stay upright with the extra baggage, swaying side to side. Each slight movement getting closer, and closer to the seemingly inevitable collapse.
Listen. Can you hear, the the uncanny silence of the early morning advancing through the neglected streets, passing over the tranquil stream, surrounding the town. The first breaths of the towering top’s of the commanding mountains as the first rays of light make there mark igniting the desolate face in bright yellow light. The lone black bird clambering its way up a bare apple tree coated with unforgiving icicles, searching desperately for a morning snack. The deep winding river meandering down its neglected path, hiding it’s unforeseen power in the murky depths of its beating heart.
You can see the great towering bodies of the ancient mountains disappearing through the soupy thick clouds, only their swollen weathered feet showing beneath. You can see the twinkle of lights in the corner of your eyes as the township below starts to wake. One after the other the houses come to life illuminating the valley floor with a sea of light. Plumes of smoke now bellowed from neighboring chimneys as fresh logs of wood are thrown onto the glowing embers of the dying fire, adding to the thickness of the lurking fog.
The vast outline of the burning sun climbs higher and higher into the sky with each dying minute. Rays of boiled sunlight commence a raging battle with the thick soupy fog, burning through the blanket of dense moisture. Trickles of light pour through the defeated fog down onto the lifeless countryside coated in an icing of frozen dew. The very moment that the light hits the shivering icy floor, it irrupts into an explosion of fluorescent light, flooding the valley. Comforting rays of the newborn sun deteriorate the heat sucking shards of ice into free flowing droplets of crystal clear water which pelt the ground in a rhythmic fashion. Pools of melted frost flock to the nearest nook or cranny in the unforgiving central Otago dirt, where it is sucked deep into the core of the earth never to be seen again.
And soon you will be stalking the streets of the waking town, which is still drowsy form a late night out, sucking in the tasteless late morning air. Only the lone sun smearing the sky with its color fulled light could be seen crossing the blank canvas. The defeated inversion layer can be seen retreating back into hiding, ready to strike when tomorrow comes.