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Winter in Twizel



Sophie, 13

I step outside, the cold bites me almost immediately. It’s early in the morning and the fog is covering the mountains like a blanket. There is a slight scent of smoke in the air from nearby chimneys. As I walk through the grass on the vast field, I can hear the crunch of the almost frozen grass. The fog is covering the ground and I can barely see what is in the distance.
As the frost starts to melt, my feet are soaking in my shoes from the short grass swishing against my feet, each step I can hear the slushy sound of the water being absorbed from the soul of my shoe.

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