It is winter in the small town of Hawea blanketed in frost by the early morning. The frozen trees, plants and grass awaits resurrection by the morning sun. The frost had grown strong from the absence of the sun and had seized the land in a dark sleep. The large body of water was a light blue with a small hint of orange reflecting the colour of the sky and was giving of a small shiver from the morning breeze. The illusive surrounding mountains peaked in snow giving of a gentle humbling orange as if they were on fire. They spectated the transformation from night to day. The moon was slowly giving way to the sun for the day to spring to life. The low lying clouds and mist hugged the lake like a young child clinging to her mother waiting to be solidified into the cool air.

The chimneys of the small towns houses are quite and lifeless sitting in anticipation waiting to be brought to life as most people still rustling in a deep slumber in there toasty warm houses. The birds where chattering amongst themselves and letting of a fine tune alerting everyone that the day was almost upon them. The deep blue sky sat and watched as the light slowly filled the frost ridden land.

The lonely main street of Hawea is waiting for the rumbling sound of a car. The street was covered from head to tow in ice waiting to catch some poor soul of guard. As i sat there i was able to hear the distant sound of vehicles screeching away as the morning rush was almost at bay. The only thing that I was listening for was the sound of the buss bellowing along the lakeside where i would leave the cold street.

The large iconic blue boat silently rocked in its bed looking out for the rush of cars. The frozen pine trees overlooking Hawea are shivering from the wind dropping little icicles from its pine needles. The great thaw was taking its tole on the frost as it slowly retreated into spots where the sun was no longer able to find it where it could seek out the remainder of the day lurking in the shadows. The sun was no longer absent as it peaked brightly over the mountains providing aid and refuge to the small town of Hawea. Plant life was now basking in the heat of the morning sun soaking up as much heat as possible to fight the frost. The New Zealand flag was concreted into the air as it was so still. The ANZAC memorial came to life as the sun paid its respects to the fallen heroes. The surrounding trees were gently rocking back and forward like the iconic blue boat.

Without warning a violent gust of air tore its was through the town un settling everything in its path. The trees were moving and became upset as the peace was broken. The wind was howling like a pack of wolves. Leaves are being ripped of trees and sent into the air as they embark on a long journey. The ANZAC memorial flag pole stood ever so strong and was now flapping side to side aggressively. The lake was no longer quite and calm but was now choppy and angry. White caps where popping up and down all over the lake. The wind was now drowning out all sounds of the screeching cars. There was one sound that was could still be heard. It was the deep rumbling of the waves crashing against the beach. There was now a dash of white that appeared in the now light blue canvas of the sky.

The wind got stronger and stronger. Wheelie bins were now being tipped over and blown onto the street. Washing was being blown of clothe lines and being thrown lifelessly onto the neighbouring lawns. I can now taste the tension in the air as the stench of the farms surrounding Hawea delivered from the southerly. The stench filled the air and was creeping its way into houses giving an unpleasant surprise to residents.

But then the wind slowly died down relieving the tension in the air. Everything was calm and relaxed again. The lake was no longer choppy and the white caps had disappeared. The trees are no longer angry and I could no longer hear the waves battling up against the beach. The flag on the hill had now returned to its original calm state. I was then able to hear the sound of the buses engine huffing and puffing as it climbed up the the large hill on the side of the lake. Right before i set foot on the bus I am farewelled by a warm gust of air that inhabited my lungs. The transformation from night to day had been completed and i got to witness it.