Mt Weadon Station
Latasha , 13The sweet charming call of birds makes me grin. Hairs on my arms stick up, as a chilling wave of air brushes past me.
The feeling of individual strands of grass between my bare feet tickles. Running along the paddock dodging the random thistle. The aroma of pine trees whiffs up my nose. I pause to take a breath as wooly sheep sprint pass me as if I was a dog. I look up to a gigantic mountain decorated with tussocks, scanning, I catch a rare glimpse of movement in the thorny scrub. Cracks echo as some sort of animal tries to escape the idea of being seen. Silence. This is my paradise… home!