• The View of the Sleeping Beauty Mountain Range from the Hillbilly House •

"Hillbilly" is a term (often derogatory) for people who dwell in rural, mountainous areas in the United States.

Well, at least that's what Wikipedia said when I searched it up. Thing is though, this story isn't even set in the United States and Wikipedia isn't always the most trust-worthy source. The title just sounded cool so I rolled with it.

Actually, this story is set in a little cold, mountainous island called Tasmania that sits just off the south-east end of Australia. It is so small you can drive from one end to the other in just under 4 hours.

When most people think of Australia they probably have one image in their minds: desert. While that isn't entirely untrue, Tasmania is, in fact, quite the opposite of a desert. It hosts lush, green meadows, deep valleys, and ranges of huge, towering mountains whose peaks are dusted with snow every winter.

It is cold there, very cold, where we lived at least – which was on a long narrow dirt track that winded its way up Misty Hill Mountain. It could barely be called a road at some stages and eventually just stopped at a mound of stones. We could probably walk to that mound of stones in about ten minutes from where we lived – but we never went up there.

We were right up the top of this road overlooking a quiet place we called The Valley that dipped and rolled it's way through a large break in the mountains. It stopped right in front of the sweeping majesty of the Sleeping Beauty Mountain Range. The Big Mountain was nicknamed Sleeping Beauty because if you tilted your head to the side, the top of the mountain looked like a woman's profile lying down peacefully. The mountain to the right was her long, flowing hair and the mountain to the left was her neck and chest. Our small, cosy farm house had glass windows top to bottom so from every room in the house you could see her.

Sleeping Beauty always got covered in snow – which lingered until mid-November. Icy cold winds rushed down from the very tops of those mountains and froze the tips of your fingers and ears off. Sometimes it was so windy you felt like your entire body was going to get blown away into the oblivion.

During the freezing winter nights you could hear the angry bursts of wind rattling all the windows and howling at the cracks in the door-sills. But I would always feel safe as long as I was under a heavy pile of blankets and my eyes were squeezed tightly shut. I was convinced that any monsters lurking in the shadows of my room couldn't see me if I lay very, very still. I suppose that is why I am still alive today – because I got very good at hiding from those monsters.

Winter not only howled and screamed – it also rained, a lot. Many a time it would wash our gravel driveway down the hill and into the car-port. It would be a daily job unblocking the drains and shovelling the dirt back to where it belonged. It was probably the main reason I went through so many pairs of gum-boots.

We had a huge cement tank that was half underground and would fill up with the most delicious tasting rain-water. It was right next to the house and after a few rainy days you could hear the overflow gushing out onto the grass. Dad would sometimes lift the heavy cement lid to check how full the tank was and we would always be there to "help." It was always a horrifyingly thrilling thing to look down in the deep, dark depths and wonder what would happen if you fell in. Dad would always say that if we fell in, he would just close the lid and leave us there. We all knew he was joking but we would still squeal and run away in protest.

The springs and summers were a refreshing reprieve from the chill of winter and the valley was filled with every colour imaginable. Wattles trees would burst with fluffy, yellow balls of pollen. Gardens and trees would be rampant with ripe vegetables and flowers. Blackberries would grow in the hundreds along the windy wire fence down near the back paddock. We could never walk past without picking at least a few of the plump juicy fruits.

In fact, we would spend hours getting our hands and arms mercilessly scratched by the thorny bushes and filling all the empty yoghurt buckets Mum would give us. We would take them back to the house and have a cooking fest – cobblers, pies, jams. Anything and everything was on the menu. We would make smoothies and juices and even freeze them in our little home-made icy-pole moulds. They were the best treats during the summer heat.

Autumn was another story. That's when all the apple orchards were bursting to the fill with huge, bright red, delicious looking apples and all the packing sheds were brimming with crates and boxes. Tassie isn't nicknamed "The Apple Isle" for nothing. We had only lived there a few years before a tiny café was built right in the middle of the orchards. They sold the freshest, yummiest apple pies I have ever tasted. The middle aged lady who owned the café would give us buckets and let us go pick the apples from the back orchard. "We grow more apples than we know what to do with!" she would exclaim.

And it was true. By the end of the apple season when we drove past the orchards, we would see hundreds of rotting apples that didn't get picked littering the ground. While it was sad to see the waste, it was good to know that many, many more were being sold in the shops and the little street cafes or settling deliciously in my stomach.

The Café Lady wasn't the only lady we kids were friends with. There was also the Post Office Lady. She was quite a bit older than the Café Lady, but she wasn't any less friendly. She and her husband ran the post office right down the end of the road. I remember the first time I walked in, very timidly, and asked her for some stamps – I liked writing letters to my pen pals in Perth which is on the Mainland's West Coast. She leaned over the counter - it towered over my head and was covered with stacks of envelopes and packages. She pushed up the tiny pair of glasses that were perched on the end of her nose and smiled. Then, she took me around behind the desk and showed me how to give out and count the stamps.

From that day on, we were friends. Every time we came into the post office she would always be there to greet us and give us lolly snakes. She would talk to us all about her life as a child and she even introduced us to her son who helped her run the post office and was very grown up in our opinions. She lived right next to the post office and she would often give us boxes of fresh vegetables and fruits from her garden – tomatoes, rhubarb, lettuces, carrots, strawberries – anything that thrived in the cool environment.

Now, when I say 'us' I mean myself and my brother. You see, I had three other siblings at the time. There was me, the oldest and very mature at the ripe age of 8, then there was my brother, Brodie, who was 6 and very fun to play with, there was our sister, Beth, who was 4 and way too young and annoying to hang out with us big children, then, lastly, there was our tiny sister, Jasmine, or Min, as we all called her. She was only 2 but had the chubbiest, reddest cheeks and the cutest little tufts of hair that would spring up to the ceiling when it was put into pony-tails. Mum had a big belly again so we all knew that any day now we would have a new sibling.

Jo was Mum's midwife. She would come around all the time to check on how the baby was doing. She would bring her stethoscope which she would hang around her neck and her medical bag filled with all sorts of funky looking tools.

Mum preferred to stay inside as she didn't really like the cold Tassie air. But she would always play games with us and help us spell out letters in our schoolbooks. She would always tuck us into our beds at night and read us stories. My favourite was the "Seven Little Australians." Pip and Judy were my favourite characters. They reminded me of myself and Brodie and how much mischief we got up too together.

Although, Brodie didn't agree. He liked the younger brother Bunty a lot better because he liked eating food. I thought it silly that if I were to pretend to be Judy that I would be good friends with Bunty because he was way too small. Brodie had to be Pip - it was the only way it could work.

A bit of an argument happened after that and even though I don't remember who won, it was probably me as I was always the best at it - even if I was wrong. Mum would always say I was "feisty" and you know what? I didn't actually mind. I embraced it with pride.

I probably got some of my feistiness from Dad. He wasn't around much. He was always working. Sometimes, he would muck around with us and fake wrestle with us. Most of the time he didn't want to play with us though. He would sit in his room on his computer, play his guitar, or chop kindling for the fire we had to keep going through winter.

He shouted more than Mum did but it always seemed to make us the more inclined to be naughty. We didn't really take his threats too seriously - he would forget about them five minutes later. He liked to drink beer too - lots of it. I didn't understand why. I smelt it once and gagged. It was rank.

Anyway, like I said, he wasn't around too much and we always had more fun when he wasn't there to tell us off. And oh, the fun that we had.

So that was us, the Hillbillies - who lived right up in the back-end of nowhere on Misty Hill Mountain in The Valley. And it was here that many of our childhood adventures took place.

• AUTHOR'S NOTE •
And I'm back! Yay! It's been a while hehe. I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of The Hillbillies. Another is on its way.
I just thought I'd let you all in on a fun fact: the picture at the top of the chapter was where I grew up. I woke up to that amazing view every day for 10 years. It was very special.
Also, this book is loosely based on my own life and adventures as a child. This is important to note: every single person I'm writing about has a different name and a different personality to their real-life counterparts (some characters are even made up). It's in no way meant to defame anyone. Please don't take the characters too seriously.
Anyways, I hope you all liked it! It's good to be back!

Let me all know what you think of the story so far. Constructive feedback is welcomed and appreciated!

• QUESTION OF THE DAY •
Where would you prefer to live: England or Greece?