HEATHER SMITH
Morning Congregation

The sky split into two moods over the Twelve Apostles on Easter Sunday morning. Warm peachy tones pushing in from the left, cool teal-grey gathering on the right, and those ancient limestone stacks standing firm between them. The long exposure smoothed the Southern Ocean into silk while above, the sky did all the dramatic work.

I'd dragged myself out of bed at 5:30am to avoid the tourist madness. The car parks had been overcrowded every other time we'd driven past, people everywhere, tourist buses lined up like a convoy. But at dawn on Easter Sunday? Quiet. Empty. Just me and the Apostles having an early morning congregation.

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