Nestled atop the very top of the Great Dividing Range is the tiny little township of Newbury. It is so small that it doesn’t even have its own postcode sharing Trentham’s where there is actually a shop or two.
It’s a place where memories are created: a first horse ride; a first motorbike ride; yabbie fishing; bush walking; laying in the grass and looking for shooting stars. It is so familiar to me that I can walk outside on a clear night and instantly find the Southern Cross. With a full moon lighting the paddocks I can walk the boundary without a torch and spot wombats, kangaroos and the odd fox if I’m quiet enough.
In this little pocket of mountain paradise our special destination lies – my parent’s farm. We travel here regularly but usually in summer. My parent’s miss us and attempt to lure us home as often as they can. Today my dad sent me this little video and attempted to encourage us to get on a plane to enjoy the snow. It’s on our bucket list you see – snow, snow angels, snowmen. But our Minecraft party is on – I declared. Doh!
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