We hope you enjoy the wonderful writing that was inspired by our walk up the hill this week!

The Beautiful View

By Saxon King

The view is a marvellous view because you can see the sea that shimmers in the distance. The mountain peaks look like they’re volcanoes. Then the farmer speedily comes up the hill. I can hear the bees buzz like a machine buzzing and I can hear the birds happily chirping around the place. The lush green grass smells nice and fresh. The sheep are happily grazing in the paddock. The school looks as peaceful as Harling Park and the big kids playground looks like some stick, rope and tyres.

 

What I can see from a single hilltop

By Lauren Doherty

I see the lush green grass. The hills are like a big wavy blanket. The sheep are like little fluffy pieces of cotton wool. Harling Park’s teahouse doesn’t tower over us anymore. I see the snow capped mountains in the distance.

As I write this I look over the mountains in the distance and I think to myself I’ve been past those mountains. As I glance over one more time at the hills, I can no longer see the peak of the big mountain.

The track that we are on is like a never-ending wiggly worm track. The only bit we can see of the town is the colourful roofs. When cars come whizzing by, it looks like glimmering things skimming along the road. In the distance, to the east, you can see a gold outline of the sand and the blue and turquoise outline of the sea. You can see little tufts of grass. The ground looks like it has been covered with green food colouring with extras on top.

All of the view is fascinating!

The Magical View

By Hannah Elkington

The big kid’s playground is as tiny as a little black dot. As I sit I see lots of little white sparkling clouds that shimmer in the sunlight with a beautiful gleam. Sheep are running all around down below while I am up in a tumbling hill. Sitting on top of this hill I can see the foggy but amazing mountains far away from us. Down below the town stretches along the ground and the clouds below cover the town like a warm blanket.

     

The View of Witherlea

By Mackenzie Taylor

The hills tumble down right to the streets of Blenheim. Green grass fills the fields with glory. The sheep look like little marshmallows in the distance. The view I see captures my eyes in a way that I can’t describe and I can see the blossom on the beautiful trees bloom. I turn my head to one side and just there, so pretty and fine, I can see the sparkly white snow on the tip of the tall mountains behind all the little houses.

The roads I can see, they twist and turn all different ways like a maze that I can’t get out of. Just down below, I can see a rusty old shed. The rust is like a robot that has got water all over it. There are haystacks on top of each other in the shed.