Sempiterna Me.....

2012-02-09T17:00:00.000+13:00

If I met
a green and handsome
frog
I'd know immediately what to do
but
there are no frogs in my life
just now
just pesky pop up
messages
and
I
haven't a clue
what to do
about
THEM!

2012-02-03T10:23:00.000+13:00

Hello my blog friends.
So long I know.
First Blogspot is still being difficult and will not let
me write where I wish.
Then I succumbed to a chest infection that has laid me low
for over three weeks.
I am on another course of antibiotics
and hoping it will soon be over.
All in all
I just gave up on the computer.
It is summer here in Aotearoa/New Zealand.
I have enjoyed the coolness of summer rains
and the greeness all around me.
I love this painting by Jo Gallagher.
These are the hills I know so well
and the summer grasses that now grow on the roadsides.
A spell of sickness can be a blessing,
with quiet time for reading
and listening to Leonard Cohen's latest song gift..
"Old Ideas"
Such a poet and mystic

Josie and me in London... 2011

2012-01-13T19:27:00.000+13:00

Josie and I wandered in the beautiful Kensington Gardens.
We had both been her before and knew what to expect.

What on earth though,
is this large black construction, like a huge box,
with a simple opening in its north and south walls?
Of course we have to find out more.

What a surprise inside.
An enclosed garden
and a place to sit and contemplate,
or chat to friends at the small tables under the inner roof
around the perimeter.

There is something so enchanting about this surprising inner garden,
open to the rain and sun.

2012-01-05T22:00:00.000+13:00

The Twelth Day of Christmas..
so I removed the baubles
and took my wee tree back upstairs..

The birds will remain.
They represent wishes for
my family and friends.

May 2012
be extra specially significant for you..

2012-01-02T22:20:00.002+13:00

I've been having issues with postings on my blog. I became so frustrated I decided to have a break, and went off in a huff!

I plan to come back one day. This is to say hi to Blogging friends and to say I'mm keeping an eye on you! I hope you've had a wonderful Christmas and wish you every blessing for the New Year.

I've been re-listening to a radio panel with two of my favourite New Zealand writers, Dr Glenn Colquhoun and Kate de Goldi. I thought I would share it with you as a New Year gift from NZ.

Catch you soon. xoxo

2011-12-22T05:57:00.000+13:00

I love the way nature in all its surprises
sometimes
makes me feel breathless and expanded in soul.

Two nights ago
was a such a night..
I went upstairs to relax in front of the television
but never got to turn it on.
Instead I sat on my little deck and watched the sky..

Summer Rains..

2011-12-18T13:15:00.004+13:00

Summer rains..

and the plants are loving it.

All things green

seem extra perky

and growing fast.

The elfin hats of the agapanthus are bursting

and the strawberries
are ripe and lush

like fat, red velvet cushions
studded with gold
and full of juice
that is surely the nectar of the gods.

I bite in and the licky red juice dribbles on my lips..

as I listen
to the velvety plip plop
of the magic brew
on the stove..

Strawberry, Mint and Pepper Jam
for some future time

when remembering
Summer
is
is a cheering thing to do.

The rains have been kind to us.
I am so sorry for Nelson and Collingwood
and any place where the rains have been far too much!

St Peter's. Rome.

2011-12-16T10:02:00.015+13:00

Josie and I find ourselves outside St Peter's
when we wander from the Vatican Museum and the Sistine Chapel.

As if we haven't seen enough marvels for one day,
we move into this huge basilica..
Basilica Papale di an Pietro in Vatican.

There is the Holy Door
and straight away my catholic upbringing is before me.
I know this door from my childhood!
My mother had an old 78 record with the Opening Ritual of The Holy Door.
How she came by it I have no idea.
This door is bricked over on the inside, and during a Jubilee Year
the Holy Father knocks on the door, three times..and in my childish belief,
the bricks come tumbling down.

I stand there looking at it and feel such a connection with this place.

This church is enormous.
I think of that 18 year old girl who became a nun,
and think how she would have responded to this place.
At 68 I am a bit like St Peter's itself.
The years have added layer upon layer of architectural style to this church,
and I have layer upon layer of learning and understanding
that my belief is quite different from that 18 year old...
(my own physical 'architectural style' has not endured as magnificently I might add!)

but however I express my belief..
my Catholic self is always there.

To grasp the size of this place I notice the people in the distance are so small.
Note the size of the person standing far away to the left below the statue
compared to those standing near.

Bernini's baldochino (canopy) over the altar is thirty metres tall
and yet looks dwarfed by the church.

Michelangelo's Pieta is another familiar icon from my past.
Had I visited at 18 I would surely have kissed the Christ's foot,
worn smooth by the kisses of Pilgrims.
It is behind glass now, since it was attacked and damaged by some mad person.

Bernini's baldochino, that stands over the altar, is like a processional canopy
with a beautiful fabric fringe around the top, but all in bronze.
There are vines and bees on the twisting pillars
and I wonder at their symbolism.
I've read later, they are the symbols of the Pope of the time.
I prefer my own interpretation.

Above the canopy is the enormous dome.

Again, the size is hard to take in
and it's beauty is astonishing.
I can only marvel at its creation.

Behind the altar is the Chair of Peter, and the stunning
sculpture that represents the heart of this place.
To me it always looked like
a monstrance that holds the simplest thing..
bread
...Jesus held up the bread and said.. This is my body..

and the beautiful symbol of
The Holy Spirit..

Beneath the altar lies the Tomb of St Peter.
Tradition has it that Peter was martyred during the reign of Nero
and buried on this site.

The statue of St Peter also has a foot worn smooth from
the kisses of pilgrims.
I join the queue for the 18 year old me,
and reverently kiss Peter's foot.

I am more astonished to come across another tomb.
Here lies the body of Pope John XXIII.
Bodies on show seems to me an Italian thing.
It was to me a complete surprise.
I feel quite overcome.
This is the pope we all loved.
The pope who said we must 'throw open the windows
and let in some fresh air ..'
into the ancient church,
to bring it into the 20Th century.
He called the Vatican Council in 1962,
the year that 18 year old entered the Sisters of Mercy.

It was a time of huge change.
The 18 year old changed too.
The thirteen years I lived at the heart of the church
in religious life,
were wonderful, growing, learning years.

Today I do not find the church as open to change as I expected it to be.

I look at the young student priests and wonder
at their response to this place today.

To visit St Peter's
has been an extraordinary experience.
I am so grateful for the amazing heritage that enriches my life.

This is a homecoming indeed,
like visiting one's birthplace
and realizing how
attached and unattached one can be at the same time.

Outside we are enchanted by the Swiss Guards
and think back to the Sad Lion monument in
Lucerne.

St Peter's.

You will always be a part of me,
no matter what I believe,
or how I express my belief.
That 18 year old
is still me.

2011-12-13T21:56:00.009+13:00

A little bit of doodle madness..

One thing I have learnt
is to keep on.

If at first a book does not please or is hard to understand,
I keep reading and often they become the most memorable.

Some of my greatest adventures have been well
outside my comfort zone.

So too with doodling.
Keep on with a drawing that appears a failure
and something always comes of it..
however crazy.

A walk through The Vatican, Rome.

2011-12-12T21:10:00.012+13:00

We are in Rome. St Peter's, The Vatican.
The familiar holy saints, each with a bird atop.

Here is the entrance to the Vatican Museum

and there is the familiar dome of St Peter's.

The work of art in the Vatican garden is
like the mystery of our world and our existence.
It both reflects and distorts what is around us
and wakens us to see differently.

I wonder how to see
in this place...

the grand stairways

and the rich treasures from antiquity.

I am fascinated by the overly bosomed goddess
among the ancient treasures.

She is Diana (Roman) or Artemis (Greek). 'She is the Earth herself,

whose mountains are breasts and her body is a dwelling place for all living creatures.'

I am intrigued with the concept of Goddess/Virgin that we meet everywhere.

I remember back to the Buddhist Monastery in Hongkong where we came across

A Goddess of Mercy.

To me there is an awe inspiring diversity of belief in the world.
Everything I look at is an attempt to explain the in-explicable..

I gaze at the beautiful marble floors

and the painted ceilings,

ornate and gilded.

Everything so rich in symbols

or, like the fabulous tapestries, telling historical

and biblical stories.

There are fascinating ancient maps of the old world
that remind me we live with a different vision of the universe today.
We no longer fear dropping off the edge of the world,
nor do we believe the sun travels around the earth.

Ah..
The Vatican Museum

leaves me gasping at the splendour
of the architecture and art.

I did not take photographs in the Sistine Chapel.
I was happy the visitors were quiet and thoughtful there
and I was content to sit and gaze in silence at Michelangelo's masterpiece.

I pondered on the meaning of it all
and all I can think is how little we know
and I feel humble when I see our human attempts at explaining the meaning of life
and the universe.

Maybe we get lost in our explanations
until the explanations become more important than
the mystery
they attempt to explain.

Control and power seem ever present in our world...

Orvieto: Umbria, Italy.

2011-12-09T21:54:00.005+13:00

The Umbrian town of Orvieto is perched atop a volcanic plug.

A quaint town dominated by the large 14th century cathedral.

Josie and I found ourselves a lunch in the Square before setting off to
explore the cathedral.
The freshest, most delicious bread.

The striped cathedral is eye catching, but the Gothic facade is amazingly beautiful

with bas-reliefs telling stories from the Old and New Testaments,

statues and fabulous glittering mosaics.

Inside the cathedral there was much to see.
The chapel with the Corporal of Bolsena,

and the beautiful frescoes.
Fra Angelico was one of the famous artists.
Growing up a Catholic child in far away New Zealand
we always had a Columban Calendar in our home, with reproductions of religious art.
I am often astonished at how familiar the religious art in Europe is to me.
I get a sense of coming home,
that this is part of my heritage.
It is truly astonishing.

How astonishing these huge cathedrals
must have appeared to the simple peasants of the 14th century.

I especially loved this Madonna.
She is the Madonna dei Raccomandati..
Madonna of the Recommended?
I recommended myself to her, and all those dear to me.
I liked the idea of being sheltered in her cloak.

How I could forget Orvieto I do not know.
As I study my photos
I remember.

I remember how I sent a wish and a prayer home
for all my horse loving nieces in New Zealand,
as I gazed at the unicorn standing guard outside the Cathedral of Orvieto.

Now that I have recorded my memories here.. I promise I will never forget you again
Orvieto!

A Stripey Puzzle..

2011-12-09T07:24:00.003+13:00

I woke early this morning
and lay staring at my window..

stripes
of sunlight

around my room

the gift of rising sun

stripes
in my early morning doodle

stripes
on my mind

a cathedral of stripes

stripes
on the outside

and stripes
on the inside...

I had a problem.
I could not remember
where Josie and I had visited this cathedral.
That's what comes of visiting many cathedrals.

Google to the rescue!
Of course..
it is the Cathedral of Orvieto.

A thirteenth century wonder.
Umbria.
Problem solved.
I'll share more later!

2011-12-06T16:34:00.000+13:00

I'm back Blogging friends.

Our Canadian Kiwis have flown back to the north.

But I have been having trouble getting my pics to stick.
Here's hoping this works!

Rome..The Trevi Fountain..

2011-11-21T22:41:00.009+13:00

I was ten when this movie was made, and I actually went to see it. We had a movie in our local War Memorial Hall at Matakawau every Monday evening. Or was it one Monday a month? But I remember well the coins being tossed into the fountain.
This is my second time to Rome... so wishes do come true.
I just wish it was now as it is in the movie.. a handful of people and a beautiful fountain. So many tourists now it rather kills the romance!

2011-11-21T21:57:00.010+13:00

it always begins with a dream

an idea

it always begins with a small
seed of notion

a small inspiration

that grows
into plans upon paper
an itinerary
of dreams
until

there
i am
throwing coins
and wishes
into
a fountain

one for a secret
and two ..

already
wishing
to return

To Pisa..

2011-11-18T08:03:00.013+13:00

Travelling from Florence to Pisa on a blue-hazy day

I felt I was in Tuscany topiary heaven.

Miles of clipped greenery destined
for beautiful Italian gardens.

We passed corn fields and vineyards

and fields of sunflowers.
Unfortunately the flowers were past their best,
their seeds ripening in the sunshine.
A lovely road trip to Pisa..

and there it was, in all its glory..

that so familiar leaning bell tower of the Cathedral of Pisa.
Look too long and vertigo sets in!

Josie and I agreed it is indeed a stunning tower.
The pale stone and a filigree look reminds me of a wedding cake.

and the cathedral too is beautiful.

An awesome place is Pisa, like Florence, on the banks
of the River Arno.
Both Florence and Pisa have a proud history of merchant shipping on the Arno.
Old battles between the two cities still live in the hearts of the people of Pisa.
"Do not drink from the River Arno" said a Pisa Guide rolling his r's
with angry tones and gestures of disgust..
"Its waters come through dirty Florence!"

Italian has to be one of the worlds most beautiful languages.
So expressive and musical and passionate.
We can thank Dante, the power of Florence and the Medici, and of course the Renaissance,
for the Florentine Italian becoming the standard throughout Italy.

I remember my first time at Auckland University being entranced by the signs
showing the way to the School of Romantic Languages.
Knowing what I know now..
I wish I'd studied there myself!

Oh to speak Italiano!
I say.. with grand inflections and waving my arms in the air!

a little doodle of wondering

2011-11-17T16:49:00.004+13:00

connected to you
by some
ethereal angel of the
bloggosphere

i
sit in my
homely hobbit hole
and
wonder
how
?

Tuscany.. the City of Florence..the next instalment!

2011-11-15T22:16:00.112+13:00

When I think of Florence
I think of David.

There he is..David, standing on the hill overlooking this city.
Standing with his slingshot
looking for a Florentine Goliath.

He stands too, in a city square..
and in a city gallery
the original Michelangelo's
David
waits to astonish the visitor.

Florence was originally a Roman city built by Sulla for his pensioned soldiers.
(I came to know Sulla in Colleen McCullough's Rome books I read before the trip)
This is an ancient place..
but today we think of it as the city where the
Renaissance was born.

There is evidence of this in the buildings and the piazzas

where renaissance statues and fountains abound.

In the Piazza del Duomo the beautiful cathedral

of white, green and pink marble is stunning..

with the ornate windows

carvings and mosaics

and the fabulous golden door.

The Town Hall with its tall crenelated tower
was once the Palazzo Vecchio.

In the Piazza Della Signoria,
outside the Town Hall,
we come across the fountain of Neptune.

His face is the face of Cosimo Medici..so it is all about power and supremacy really.

Here too is Perseus with the head of the slain monster, the Gorgon Medusa,
from Greek legend,

and the stunning sculpture of the Rape of the Sabine Women
from the legendary history of Rome.
It is said the men of early Rome in need of wives
abducted the women of the neighbouring Sabines.
These statues are copies of the originals now housed in museums and galleries.

After all those naked statues, it was nice to see Pinocchio
was wearing the clothes made for him by Geppetto.
There are Pinocchios everywhere in the markets and stores of Florence.
This city is his home.
The home of his creator, Carlo Collodi.

Beautiful Florence.. Ferenzia

with the Arno River running through.
We loved you....
and your gelato was fabulous too!

2011-11-14T19:53:00.000+13:00

dandelions
and daisies
and wild
shivery grass
picked by a seven year old..

a gift beyond price!

2011-11-14T08:20:00.003+13:00

Buttercup days

are happy days;

when the sun makes diamonds
down at the lake;

water lilies shine;

and everyone seems happy.

Just the day for
making bubbles.

Little Two Years
is mastering the art

and big sister makes her laugh.

Happy buttercup days!

San Gimignano..

2011-11-12T16:55:00.001+13:00

We walked through the old city gate

into the dreamy and oh so picturesque walled hilltop town of

San Gimignano.

We wandered about the narrow cobbled streets

just drinking in the ambiance,

feeling in awe of its history and age.

We found ourselves a table at a busy cafe
and ordered ourselves a drink.
Having had a limoncello the night before
we fancied trying this delightful beverage again.

Alas. Our Italian is sadly wanting,
and me mentioning the words cool and fresh
was not clever!

It looked great!
BUT
it was pure
freshly squeezed
lemon juice!!

How we laughed at ourselves!

We added some sugar and decided it was just right!!

We were successful ordering the rest of our lunch
and I can still taste this
simple and very fresh food.

The gelato we had later, sitting on the steps of the Duomo / church
was mm..mmm perfecto!

So too was the Duomo itself. This is both a church and a treasure trove of art

with its beautiful chapels, altars, paintings, freizes and frescoes.

This was a taste of things Tuscan.

Oh to return and stay longer!

Tuscany..

2011-11-10T21:17:00.002+13:00

We leave Venice and head for the hills;

the hills of Tuscany..

hilltop towns
and vineyards and olive groves
and a warm
laidback feeling ..

sometimes it truly feels we are
alive in a postcard world.

A strange land but so familiar.
More to follow!

La Serenissima...

2011-11-10T20:05:00.000+13:00

Arriverderci Venezia!

Four times I have said goodbye to Venice.
Always I think..
will I return one day?

Was this my final arriverderci?

My dream would be, like Miss Garnet,
to live in Venice for ..
maybe six months.

Like Miss Garnet I would explore and dream.

For now
it is arrivaderci

La Serenissima.

'Open my heart and you will see,
graven inside it,
Italy'
Robert Browning

Miss Garnet's Angel by Susan Vickers

Memories of Venice..

2011-11-06T19:47:00.004+13:00

Walking in Venice after dark is one of the loveliest things to do.
Many of the tourists have gone back to the mainland.
It is quiet
and the moon is reflected in the water of the canals.

One such evening we were wandering along
when we heard the most amazing singing..
rich male voices
singing the beautiful and plaintive songs of the Jewish people.
The men were gathered in a small cafe.
It was Friday
and they were welcoming in the Sabbath.
We sat by the edge of the canal
and felt such blessings in this beautiful place
as we quietly listened.

We discovered the next day the cafe was part of the Jewish Ghetto,
an ancient part of Venice.

A visit to the Cathedral in St Marks Square is very special.
The exquisite mosaics, the four bronze horses..

During the day the crowds of tourists are overwhelming.

I rose early in the morning, as the big bells were ringing
and crossed the almost empty square and let myself into the Cathedral by
a door on the side wall to the left.
In the company of five nuns and a handful of people I attended early morning mass.
This was such a special and meditative way to visit the cathedral
and an experience that I will treasure forever.

Painting.. Procession in St Marks Square. Bellini 1496
from'Venice Revisited' S Harris.

Memories of Venice.. Vivaldi..

2011-11-06T13:29:00.003+13:00

..and then of course..there is Burano..

2011-11-04T12:36:00.006+13:00

There is something about Venice
that causes me to remember it as if it was all
a beautiful dream.

The Island of Burano is like that.
With its leaning tower

and coloured houses.
It is the island of the Venetian fishermen and lace makers.

Quiet

and peaceful
and oh so charming.

We ate our lunch at this cafe

and I put down my fork to photograph our entree..
not that I would have forgotten it.

So light and delicate this dish of creamy rice and tiny shrimps.
We ate it slowly
and mindfully..

and wondered
was it the sea air and the place
that made this simple dish so divine.

Another day in Venice..

2011-11-03T07:14:00.006+13:00

we glided down the Grand Canal

in the midst of festivity.

Lots of shouting and bravado

because it was boat racing day,
and we were gondoleered (is that a word?) down the canal
between races.

Gondolas and boats of every size and shape,

with competitors in the colours of their teams

waiting their turn

to speed down the grandest canal of all.

Happy groups of supporters and tourists like us

enjoying the feeling of excitement of festivity.

We came under the beautiful Rialto Bridge
to St Marks Square

and all the while

the old palaces

looked down on the proceedings

as they have done for hundreds of years.

In olden days the boats could have been ships carrying
envoys or treasures from far away exotic lands
or even Marco Polo himself!
Beautiful, crazy Venice.

A doodle poem..

2011-11-02T20:33:00.001+13:00

there is always
a bird
in my dreams

and a tree

and a nest

loves
longings
lost

Take care of the earth..

2011-11-01T19:10:00.000+13:00

Beautiful New Zealand.

Just found this on niece Hannah's FB
and thought how beautiful this is.
This is Mount Maunganui
and the entrance to Tauranga Harbour.

Just out to the right is where the container ship, the Rena is stuck on a reef.
Oil from the Rena has been polluting these beautiful beaches.

Oh Venice.. City of dreams...

2011-10-30T21:17:00.002+13:00

When entering Venice
come in through the back canals

away from the crowds of the inevitable tourists
away from the noisy water taxis and buses

and glide in a gondola
in the silence of the magic

under the arches of ancient bridges

for this is the secret Venice
that enchants
and you whisper
I am here again..

what is it about your watery ways

your aged tatty self

that makes you seem a lover

that bewitches

and confuses

ah
Venice

here I am again

A doodle..thoughts on Kehlstein mountain

2011-10-28T14:08:00.001+13:00

Kehlsteinhaus . Hitler's Eerie..

2011-10-28T09:42:00.010+13:00

...from Obersalzberg, 12 miles from Salzberg,
we are taken by shuttle bus up the amazing 6.5 km road
that was built by Borman in 13 months,costing 30million ReichMarks,
as part of the 50th birthday gift for Hitler.

With five tunnels and a scary hairpin bend,
sheer drops and fabulous views.. it certainly is a thrilling ride.

Obersalzberg was Hitler's home and the second seat of the Third Reich.

To reach Kehlsteinhaus - the lodge that was the birthday gift-
we walk through a tunnel and take the lift. A marvel in itself.
The lift shaft is 407 feet bored straight up through the mountain and the lift is
made of polished brass with venetian glass mirrors and green leather.

The tunnel to the lift.
Apart from the cost of construction in RMs it also cost the
lives of 12 construction workers, so dangerous it was and relentless
in the speed of construction, to be ready for the birthday in 1939.

At the summit is the lodge.
I felt a deep sadness thinking how power can go so wrong
and the consequences so terrible.
Standing in Eva's bedroom, looking out over the mountains,
I pondered how easily I can shut out the realities of our world.

The views are stunning..

I sat on a quiet seat alone and listened to the silence
and breathed the mountain air..

I remembered the story of how the devil took Jesus up a mountain
and offered him the whole world.
Jesus said .. no thank you.

I imagined the devil taking Hitler up this mountain..

and I prayed for all the leaders in our world today..

An interesting observation .. Hitler rarely visited the house on Kehlstein Mountain..using it
mainly to impress VIP's, and staying no longer than 20 minutes.
He was afraid of heights, of lightning strikes.. and didn't trust the lift!
His girlfriend Eva loved it.

Memories of Mozart...

2011-10-26T22:58:00.001+13:00

2011-10-26T18:03:00.005+13:00

The lovely Gaby dancing outside
THE
summer house.
Gaby took us on a walking tour around the city ..

Lovely Salzburg.

2011-10-26T18:03:00.002+13:00

Salzburg, Austria....

2011-10-26T17:46:00.003+13:00

Our stay in Salzburg
was sunshine, music and Mozart.

The gardens

the baroque architecture

fountains

and statues
(of Sound of Music fame).

The castle that keeps watch over the old town and the River Salzach

and houses that witnessed the gifted Mozart during his life

and the very beginning of it.

Peaceful corners

and baroque fountains..
just the setting for young women dressed in dirndls
for a pre-wedding hen party.

A famous cafe..
( imagine a cafe founded in 1703 ! )

the cathedral..

more horses..

saints..

and bishops.

An evening stroll around the castle on the hill

rewards us with a fabulous view
of a beautiful city
never to be forgotten.

2011-10-24T18:40:00.002+13:00

'Tis a strange thing to fly to the north
and travel in lands where autumn is arriving
in tones of golds and reds and browns
and the dry leaves falling are blown about by the chill from a cold north wind..

then to fly home again to the south and
discover spring has arrived
and the blackbirds are singing songs of passion in the early mornings
and winter bare trees are once again decked in
greenery that dances in a warm north wind..

I have been dancing in that dance of the seasons
that never ends..

NZ All Blacks are Rugby World Champions!!!

2011-10-23T23:32:00.006+13:00

I have just watched the final of the Rugby World cup in NZ!
New Zealand versus France

What a fight!
NZ won by one point!

I feel a proud kiwi tonight.
As I go off to bed at midnight
I can hear the celebrations down in the city.
I'm not the only happy kiwi tonight!

As we left the airport it was such a surprise
to see black flags with the silver fern and little flags of
New Zealand flying from the cars.
It looked such a celebration.

I love you NZ, my country..
the way you pull together be it for A Rugby World Cup,
a terrible earthquake or a disasterous oil spill.
How wonderful to have this successful festival to cheer everyone!

Now I can return to my no-tv-sport zone!
Where's my book...

Innsbruk..

2011-10-23T22:11:00.002+13:00

How beautiful this city with the mountains surrounding it ..

At the end of the square there is the Golden Roof
on the balcony built for Maximilian1.

I love the national costume of Austria / Tyrol.

Beautiful colours and styles for the women

and handsome suits for the men.

Gracious and ornate architecture

and that balcony with the Gold Roof so Maximilian
can sit and watch his people in the square and feel very important.

We visit the shops and here are my feet on the Swarovski Crystal
shop glass stairs.

A most picturesque place

with awe inspiring scenery.

The Very Small but Perfectly Formed Land of Liechtenstein...

2011-10-23T14:05:00.006+13:00

I am very proud to carry my New Zealand Passport.
New Zealand seems to hold a warm place in the hearts of people around the world.
Once upon a time a passport would be stamped in each country of Europe
as one travelled through.
These days we pass from country to country and hardly ever do we receive a stamp.

When we went into Liechtenstein however,
we could have a stamp in our passport if we paid one or two euros
at the Information Centre...
and a very nice stamp it is.

A charming place is Liechtenstein.
The sun was shining brightly and in my photo
you can barely see the castle on the hill
overlooking the capital city of Vaduz.
A real prince and his family live in the castle.

Three wild horses cavort in the square outside the City Hall in Vaduz.
The work of the contemporary Swiss sculptor Nag Arnoldi.

Such a small country is Liechtenstein,
(600 square miles I believe)

that our stay was rather brief but enjoyable.

Travelling across borders from country to country without crossing oceans and skies
is very novel to those of us who live on sea-surrounded islands far from neighbouring countries.

Further pics from a day in the Swiss Countryside..

2011-10-21T10:02:00.000+13:00

A wagon ride in the Swiss countryside..

2011-10-20T07:34:00.012+13:00

This was such a lovely day

riding through a village....
clippity clop.

Surely the loveliest thing to do.

Fertiliser for Peter's garden.
Maybe we should return to horse power!

Through leafy woods

and the greenest of fields.
Autumn apples ripening in the sunshine.

"High on a hill sang a lonely goatherd..."
These farms are small with cow herds of twenty or so.
This is not big scale farming and there is something so magic about it.
Every inch of this place seems fussed over and cared for.
Neat as a pin.

this was Heidi country for sure.
I'm sure I saw Grandfather's house high up there!
Later in Canada, son Steve found Shirley Temple's Heidi movie on his computer
and Josie and I watched it with much joy.
I also found a good translation of the book 'Heidi' in one of Victoria's fine secondhand bookshops
to bring home for Victoria-Sofia, so entranced with this place was I.

Josie and I have discussions about farming. She is a pragmatist who believes in progress. OK, so I know about subsidies but I am a dreamer who wants little farms where the cows have names and cheese is made from fresh milk and the grass is sweet and full of herbs and nature's fertilisers...

Peter's wife had a lovely lunch set out for us here.

Peace and orderliness and

simple beauty.

A perfect day in Switzerland.
Ahhh...such memories to keep forever.

Thoughts for a lake..

2011-10-20T07:08:00.001+13:00

Lucerne..

2011-10-19T21:48:00.002+13:00

The sad Lion of Lucerne is a poignant sight,

a sad segue with the Palace of Versaille.

This is a memorial to the Swiss Guards who lost their lives
attempting to guard King Louis XVI, King of France.

Beautiful Lucerne.
The twin Steeples of the catherdal

and a convent on a hill.

The clouds lift on Mt Pilatus.

Blessings from Jesus and a nude sunbather.

The deep waters of Lake Lucerne.

Mountains..

2011-10-18T19:00:00.000+13:00

2011-10-18T18:56:00.003+13:00

Up above Lake Lucerne in Switzerland,
travelling on the steepest cog railway in the world
up to the summit of Mt Pilatus.
Fresh mountain air and
green mountain meadows.

How magic to hear the cow bells ring.

An amazing ride up and up, through rock tunnels and over narrow bridges.

I am enchanted by the wild flowers,
especially the little blue gentians
and wild scabiosa..

so special are these mountains.

A doodle in Paris...

2011-10-17T13:39:00.000+13:00

2011-10-17T12:26:00.004+13:00

Paris for me
is a beautiful city
of wide tree-lined streets,
cafes, art and good food.

Delicious onion soup with a crusty top of cheese,

and memorable melt in the mouth macaroons are
among my memories.
The coffee...was so so.

The Eiffel Tower
at night
all sparkle and shimmer
in this city of love.

We were on our way to Rome
and our first glimpse of things Roman was a French ruler who
obviously fancied himself an ancient hero of the Roman kind.
No Roman haircut for this King however!

We were visiting Versaille
and the sun shone bright and glorious..
apt at the palace of he who named himself
The Sun King.

This was the first of many palaces and castles and big houses
we were to see during our six weeks of travel.
Versaille the most opulent of all.

Travel memories..

2011-10-15T16:38:00.004+13:00

To travel from New zealand to anywhere is a long journey.
A stopover is always an exciting thing to do.

Josie and I stayed three nights in Hongkong
and enjoyed ourselves so much,
if we'd returned home after three days we'd have felt content.
This was however just the beginning of six weeks of travel,
just a rest in the long journey to The Uk and Europe.

So many people, so many high towers.
A night ride out on the harbour was awesome.

We also took a boat ride during the day.

red lanterns for luck.

We loved the food and Dim Sum is our big favourite.
We were the only non-chinese in this restaurant.
A sure sign of real Chinese food.
We later ate Dim Sum in Chinatown London and Chinatown Victoria, Canada.

The Night Light show was a wonderful way to end a happy time in Hongkong.
We felt refreshed after a 10 hour flight from New Zealand
and felt ready to face the 13 hour flight to London.

I'm Home!! The traveller returns.. notes for you from a 'little papery thing'...

2011-10-14T17:10:00.001+13:00

2011-08-24T20:45:00.001+12:00

There's a pale moon rising
and I have itchy feet

friend Josie and I are
heading off around the world

two more sleeps and we'll be gone!

I've finished reading
Colleen McCullough's
The First Man In Rome
and my head is full of Romans and Barbarians
and bloody battles..

so it is..
on the road to Rome for us!

Catch you in Rome old moon!

I wonder whether I'll get to a computer on my travels.
If not...
catch you on my return blogging friends!

a journey 'round my sister..

2011-08-17T22:41:00.004+12:00

when I see
the pine trees
down
Matakawau Road

past the little village
just beyond
the kauri bush

when I see the placid harbour
the sky
the rolling hills

the child in me is
coming home

again

the camber of the road
and every twist and every turn
are sheltered deep within my heart it seems

this is the very corner
where we lived
hehind those trees
much smaller then

and every inch of paddock
creek
puriri
punga fern

wraps around me like
a comforting
old coat

but the house
the garden
and the orchard
like us
the family
have gone

but wait..

I travel to the very end
of Matakawau Road
and there
in a cottage by the sea
lives
my
sister
and her man

so the journey to my heartland
is not in vain

there is love here
that enfolds me
like a handmade woollen rug

there is a blessing here
of quietness
and the salty smell of sea

and every corner
of the cottage

is
a shrine
to life and love

and
creativity
beautifully
expressed..

little shrines
of
peacefulness

and
longheld
simple faith

a sustaining
place of

of love
and family

2011-08-16T22:51:00.001+12:00

it always is the little things...

2011-08-16T21:37:00.000+12:00

it always is the little things

it always is the little things
that matter

like the little snowflakes soft as down
that fluttered and danced
and
astonished
us
in lands
where snowflakes
never fall

until today

and these delicate little dancers bewitched us
and made
the six o'clock news

it always is the
little things
that matter

Tell me...

2011-08-15T23:43:00.001+12:00

tea leaves in my tea cup
at my sisters..

Any readers of tea leaves out there?

An overseas trip?
?
?
Ha ha.. I see a shoe and is that the Eiffel Tower?
Methinks an adventure is looming!!

Road trip North..

2011-08-15T23:29:00.002+12:00

An early morning road trip
on a cold and foggy morning..

the Waikato River
in winter glory

mists
naked willows
and
swift flowing swollen waters..

a cold sleety rain
in a stinging wind
and the wild west coast breakers roar
along the peninsula

rainbows to tell that
all is well

indeed all is well
for
trips end is a cosy fire
and
homemade muffins
hot tea
and
sisterly love

..a little taste of Kiwi joy...

2011-08-09T09:06:00.003+12:00

Brigid..

2011-08-02T22:57:00.005+12:00

take the dead winter reeds from the lake.. weave a cross of Brigid...

for this is
August
the last month of winter
Brigid Day

light the candles
to celebrate the returning of light

candlemas
the season of milk
newborn calves and lambs
and wobbly legged foals

this strange warm season we've had
scarcely cold
spring flowers appearing early
daffodil gold of the sun
snowdrops white of the milk

I take milk white paper

and cut out dancing maidens

to dance beneath the winter moon

milk white maidens

to welcome the lengthening of days
and the returning of the sun

may our hearts be light
and rejoice!

2011-07-31T21:43:00.009+12:00

I've had a busy week.
No time for blogging.

Tonight
I relax alone
watching a movie.
Eat Pray Love,
to be precise.

I take scissors and paper

and snip snip snip
while I listen.

I see wishbone shapes
and curly letters
falling..

snip snip snip

birds and hearts.

I unfold
a mandala..

and I wonder

is it the end result that is important
or
the little shapes
and the
in-betweens
that
happen along the way ...

( Paper mandalas make wonderful doilies for under cakes and cookies! )

2011-07-22T18:57:00.000+12:00

The flower is a butterfly tethered to the earth..
the butterfly is a flower set free.

R Steiner.

2011-07-22T18:45:00.001+12:00

This doodle is inspired by Flora s Bowley
and a quiet time at the lake..

i want to paint colours
like flora s bowley
droplets
and chrysalis
and
echoing rings on still water

yesterday
in the silence
of a cool fresh morning
i sat at the jetty

the mirror water as still
as still
and the tall raupo reeds
scarcely moving
their dance
of bending
and swaying

when
a
flora s bowley
dragonfly
tip - tip - tipped
the glass water surface

leaving
flora s bowley
intersecting circles

then stillness
and gone..

my camera lay helpless
on my lap

lap - lap - lap
went the stillness of water

oh
flora s bowley
paint me the dragonfly
and the never ending circles
on
mirror
water

2011-07-20T08:32:00.003+12:00

I seem to have a penchant just now for stories of survival.
I have read five books about walking the 500 kms of the Camino.
I find it fascinating to read how people cope and why they choose to test themselves
when they could just as easily stay in the comfort of their home.

Last night I watched yet another episode of
'I Should Not Be Alive'
Two men stuck on a tiny ledge on the top of the French Alps in a massive storm
for days on end.
Freezing cold.
Dehydrated.
One survivor and he lost hands and feet....

I am horrified and enthralled
and all the time I am doodling away
and the doodle I create
is
summery
and light
and butterflies...

how weird is that?

When I look at my doodle later it reminds me of a Rudolph Steiner quote on a card
I was given years ago.

Kinaesthetic?
I listen better when I doodle.
In fact my hands like to be busy knitting or stitching or doodling
while I listen.
When I hear music my feet have to move.
How about you?

Perfect Winter's Day.

2011-07-19T11:48:00.000+12:00

Winter has arrived at last.
There was frost on the rooftops this morning.

I try to eat food that is locally grown or grown in NZ
and just now NZ oranges are available.
They are juicy and sweet. Mm ..mmm!
Little wonder a tree full of orange circles appeared in my doodle!

Orange globes... juicy suntraps.

A sunny winter's day
is just the day for Victoria-Sofia and me to go to the lake cafe
where it is French Toast Week!

Victoria-Sofia insisted I take a photo of her grinning
instead of smiling.
She does not believe me that seven-year-old girls
look beautiful with gaps!

Outside in the winter sunshine
the playground is full of children and parents and grandparents.
Victoria-Sofia
finds a friend
and this winter's day
seems perfect.

I sit and chat to friend Josie.
We laugh at the children

and the sun
and friendship
warms
us all.

2011-07-18T18:47:00.003+12:00

Last week it was rainy and wet and cold.
Even the pigeons in Auckland were fluffing up their feathers
to keep warm.

Today after a chilly start
the sun came out and the day was warm.

Victoria-Sofia and I went down to the lake.
She met a friend there

and they had lots of fun together
while I sat and chatted to Friend Josie.

Some very strange beings were there too,

and the gardens were looking lovely even after
the wild wet week we've just had.

Thank you Victoria-Sofia for a happy day.

Monte Cecilia Park and Pah Farm

2011-07-16T20:51:00.032+12:00

My friend Eileen came from Wellington to stay with me.
46 years ago we were student nuns
living in a house of studies in Auckland.

It was then called Monte Cecilia.
Originally it was a private home, Pah Farm.
Purchased by The Sisters of Mercy it has been a boarding school
for girls, a study house for student nuns and a refuge for homeless families

This beautiful home has been purchased by the Auckland City Council
and is today an art gallery.

Eileen and I went to visit Pah Farm
and memories flooded back as we wandered through the house and grounds.

The phoenix palm in the garden reminded us of passing time.
It is twice as tall.
The kingfishers that nested in the palm used to dive bomb on us during the spring.
Now they are so high I don't imagine they will be worried by those walking beneath.

The chapel is now a gracious space for art.
It was certainly a visit back in time for Eileen and me.

I am so grateful for the years I spent with The Sisters Of Mercy.
They were years of education and learning and spirituality that I will always treasure.

Friendships formed then are so dear
and there is a sisterhood that will
endure forever.

2011-07-16T20:51:00.031+12:00

I am happy the beautiful grounds are now named
Monte Cecilia Park.

These sweeping fields were were more overgrown
when we were living here.

During our afternoon recreation hour
this was where we walked and explored

and played games like sardines.
A form of hide-and-seek.
I remember the tree we discovered with delicious fruit that were
neither apple nor pear but had the taste of both.
We named it the Papple Tree.
Maybe it was a Nashi Pear unknown then but common now in NZ.

It was here that Petra the Donkey lived.
She was left by a travelling circus with the proviso
that one day they would return for her.
They never did.
We all loved Petra.

2011-07-16T20:51:00.009+12:00

Today there are some rather strange residents at Pah Farm.

This fellow appeared to be asleep

and these looked to need a good square meal.

"Come pensive nun, devout and pure,
sober, steadfast and demure.."

Sacred art has been replaced
with timely words,

and patron saints of a different kind.

No holy virgin in the niche beside the stained glass window
but
an oversized lego-man instead.

2011-07-16T20:51:00.008+12:00

I know I should have been looking at the art
but I love every bit of this special house.

The mellowness of carved wood.

The ornate plaster work.

The fireplaces.

The chandeliers.

The front stairs.

Thank you Pah Farm / Monte Cecilia
for the happy memories.

2011-07-15T15:25:00.005+12:00

So did the young girl who owned the book of naive poems leave her family
and run off with a young man?

No.
With somewhat romantic notions and teenage zeal
she went off to become a nun.

They were happy years of learning.
Thirteen years never to be regretted.

Strange how I dressed my Pedigree Elizabeth doll as a nun.
Living in the country, we never saw nuns.
After the death of my father when I was 16,
my mother, sister and I read aloud a book called
"The Deliverance of Sister Cecilia" about a sister who rescued Jewish children
in Europe during the war. I was very impressed with the story and was inspired to dress my doll.
The doll is long lost and this photo was given to me recently, as was the book of poems.

It was while working at the Mater Hospital later, that I met 'real' nuns,
and decided this is what I wanted to do with my life.

A long time ago now.
At age 30 I left and later married.
To this day I am blessed with wonderful friendships of the women I knew then.

2011-07-08T20:00:00.001+12:00

50 years ago
this small notebook was mine

my mother kept it
all those years

astonishingly
just recently
it was returned to me

in it I wrote such naive poems
that make me feel astonished

who is she
this girl of 17

in love with the thought of love

when belief was certain

she left the notebook
and her few possessions
and life as she knew it

left her mother
her family

a last look at her home
the sandy bay
the hilly peninsula
as if she'd never seen them before

then
without looking back
she went

never to return

life is like that
at 17
when romance will last forever

we think

2011-07-05T17:53:00.005+12:00

we are the travellers

never still

forever curving through the endless space
of our universe
of darkness

powered by
a solar engine
so bright
so light
we dare not look at

Just wondering..

2011-07-03T22:21:00.002+12:00

"Even in a world that's being shipwrecked..
remain brave and strong."

I came across this quote and was thinking about our planet.
Loss of rain forests.
Pollution.
Global warming.....

a world being shipwrecked for sure.

The quote however
is from
Hildegard of Bingen
who lived from 1098 to 1179.

So we've been shipwrecking the Earth for a long time.

For all her visions and insights, Hildegard could not, I am sure,
have imagined the life we live today, almost a millennium later.

The Earth survived.
Regardless.

2011-06-30T15:25:00.002+12:00

'Give them wings that may fly' .. with love, Crawshaw School.
The Best Little School in the West!

A place in my life that will stay with me forever.
A heartland.
A place of growing and learning.
A place of inspiration and love.
This is truly
the end of an era. Remember.. children of the sky!

2011-06-28T22:49:00.001+12:00

Goodbye to a Friend..

2011-06-28T22:29:00.006+12:00

Kevin died this morning.
Friend and supporter
in good times and bad.

I will remember you always
with thankfulness and love.

Teacher, poet and lover of music and books and words and gardens and trees....
Orange and Green will always be our colours my friend.
In-jokes about belief and who we are.

Today indeed I am a sad 'Irish Catholic',
but the richer for having known you.

Gratitude fills my heart
for precious last times together;
for having known
you and Ann.

Go in peace.
Kevin and Ann.

With love for a special friend..

2011-06-27T19:44:00.005+12:00

Maybe you'll remember about one year ago
my dear friend Ann died of cancer.
She had been a loved deputy principal of a very special school.

Ann's husband Kevin has been principal of this school for many years.
Now it is Kevin who is very ill with cancer.

There is a big sadness at the school.
Staff and children and all of us who know Kevin are feeling very sad.

Today two friends, Felicity and Jan, and I
have worked since early morning at my place,
sewing together a quilt made up of small artworks by the children and staff.
We felt honoured to be stitching this work of love together for
the children and teachers..

We worked from 8am until 5pm,
when two teachers arrived to deliver the quilt to Hospice where a very ill Kevin is tonight.
A very special quilt made with a huge love and caring for a special man.

Our love is with you dear friend.
Our love is with you.
Love to a special school with special teachers and children.
You are the best!

Sunday afternoon..

2011-06-26T21:01:00.000+12:00

my doorbell rings
and two little girls
with a gift of flowers

all short stems
and beautiful

we're bored
they say
so we brought you some flowers

I put out the paper
and the soft chalk pastels

and deck them out
in my oversize aprons

and while I sew
two quiet little girls
are lost in their art
for an hour or so

as peaceful as beautiful flowers

2011-06-22T20:28:00.006+12:00

I have just finished reading
The Madonnas of Leningrad by Debra Dean.

A young Marina works in the Hermitage Museum/Gallery
in Leningrad at the time of the German invasion.
She helps pack the precious paintings,
removed from their frames, to be taken into hiding and safety.
Marina memorises each work of art,
building in her memory a mansion, room by room full of artworks.

Years later, living in America and suffering from Alzheimer's,
Marina begins to live again the horrific
Leningrad years and we go with her into that
memory mansion in her mind and visit the paintings.

I have loved this book. How wonderful to seek
the paintings on google as I read, and to explore the Hermitage.

I enjoyed Debra's post script explaining how she came to write this novel,
without ever having been to St Petersburg,
and her reaction to her visit there after the book was written.

Alzheimer's has suddenly become especially real to me lately
as I support a very dear friend.
Debra Dean's book is one I will remember on many levels,
and a visit to St Petersburg and the State Hermitage Museum is
definitely on my Bucket List.

2011-06-21T19:33:00.002+12:00

The Longest Night of the Year
tonight.

and today was more like an autumn day,
crisp and warmly sunny.
People are still wearing light clothing.

I'm sure the blackbirds are singing spring songs,
and spring flowers are out already.

A strange season
but lovely.

My wish is to wake early and see Matariki in the sky...
the stars that welcome in the new light.
From here the days grow longer
but I think the cold is still to come.

2011-06-20T20:49:00.003+12:00

everyday is the journey

the journey
itself
is
home..

Matsuo Bashi

I am reading yet another book about The Camino.
It is becoming an obsession.

I've read..
The Year We Seized The Day. By Eli Best and Colin Bowles

I'm Off Then. By Hape Kerkeling.

The Camino. A Journey of the Spirit. By Shirley MacLaine

and now I'm reading..
Walk in a Relaxed Manner. By Joyce Rupp.

The walk is becoming very familiar.
One day...

2011-06-19T17:13:00.008+12:00

I doodle while I listen.
I was listening to the radio,
to a recording from NZ Post Readers and Writers Week.

The phone rang and someone, probably in India wanted to ask me about my power bill,
and would I like a reduction and 50 Fly Buys.
No. I didn't.

When I returned to my doodling and the radio
Mr A A Gill
UK Restaurant Critic and TravelWriter
was just saying

"I'm part of something really big.. something huge..
a big experiment that is all of us.."

2011-06-18T17:20:00.001+12:00

A bluebird of happiness?

His name is Eeyore.
It must be the rainy day.

The Bay of Plenty..

2011-06-16T21:05:00.008+12:00

I've been away on a little tiki-tour to The Bay of Plenty.
There is something special about this journey.
Travelling through the lush green of Waikato farmlands
to the steamy place of hot mud pools and geysers.. Rotorua.

This is Mokoia Island in the middle of Lake Rotorua.
The island of Hinemoa and Tutanekai.
Hinemoa swam the lake, to be withTutanekai,
following the sound of his flute.
On the island is a hot water pool where Hinemoa warmed herself after the swim in the cold lake.
A Romeo and Juliet story of forbidden love.

Swan spirits of Hinemoa and Tutanekai?

I stopped by Lake Rotoiti

and the big male swan postured and hissed to let me know he's boss.

A lovely break before driving over the Rotoma Hills.

A twisting, turning road, up and over, through the bush.

I spent two days with my lovely sister.

This morning we went out to Whakatane Heads,
before I set off for home again.
In the far distance you can see White Island,
an active volcano,

and Whale Island, peaceful and beautiful.

I travelled home along the coast to Tauranga and over the Kaimai Hills.
The sky was strangely pale and the sun was strangely ringed.

Tonight there is a ring around the moon.
It could be a sign of rain coming,
but it could be the ash cloud from the exploding volcano in Chile
that is disrupting air travel in NZ.

We seem to be so aware these days
of the dangerous and shaky planet
whose thin crust we inhabit.

2011-06-14T07:29:00.000+12:00

Papatuanuku
Earth Mother

Now look here!
Settle down!
Enough is enough.
Go back to sleep.

It seems she's just got to do
what she's just got to do.

Our thoughts are with you Christchurch,
as she turns in her bed once again!

Mirror, mirror, on the wall...

2011-06-13T14:19:00.003+12:00

Oh dear.
I dropped my hand mirror.

I quite like the new aspect.

I showed it to some of the arty female faces in my house
and I think they agree.
An interesting reflection on life..

"I love mirrors.
They let one pass through the surface of things"
Claude Chabrol

'Life is like a mirror.
We get the best results when we smile at it"
Anon.

"It is a city of mirrors,
the city of images,
at once solid and liquid,
at once air and stone."

Erica Jong

"Fantasy mirrors desire.
Imagination reshapes it."
M Cooley

2011-06-12T18:11:00.002+12:00

A Birthday Mandala
for Ann..
with love
and wishes.
A birthday celebrated in both north and south hemispheres..
family and friends around the world.

We love you Ann!

2011-06-10T23:23:00.006+12:00

The fact my car wouldn't start this morning,

and then the garage door remote refused to close the garage door,
all together, making me one hour late for sewing class..

and the way it rained and rained all day
without stopping,

making water rush down the gutters
and big inviting puddles everywhere..

.. might have caused me to feel a little "inverted" ..

but it did not stop me from having a very lovely day

or from doodling a Miro inspired doodle
while I watched
clever people dancing on ice this evening on the tv.

I do like Miro's creativity.

'I make no distinction between painting and poetry.'
said
Joan Miro.
1893-1983

I feel the same about doodling, dancing or scribbling down words.

2011-06-08T19:22:00.000+12:00

sometimes a doodle
doesn't say
anything at all..

sometimes it is just a quiet
way to end a lovely day..

2011-06-07T07:47:00.001+12:00

When I was a child, our books mostly came from somewhere else.
Somehow it felt as if life was really happening somewhere else, not in Aotearoa- New Zealand.
How different it is today.
Our children are growing up with a plethora of wonderful books written by New Zealand writers, set in our own amazing land.
Margaret Mahy is one of our amazing writers. She is most certainly a wonderful word witch of great magic.
I remember asking once, in a school staffroom, where Margaret Mahy lived and when a colleague suggested Banks Peninsula, another added "Margaret Mahy? Doesn't she live down the bottom of the garden?"

While her books are definitely rooted in our own land, she leads us into a fantasy world of fun and adventure.
You are a treasure Margaret Mahy.

2011-06-06T12:51:00.000+12:00

Today is the birthday of
Victoria-Sofia
age 7..
as bright as a button
and wise beyond her years..

I decided Margaret Mahy's
The Witch Word
is exactly right for
my little friend.

Happy birthday Victoria-Sofia!

Just another walk around the lake..

2011-06-02T17:08:00.004+12:00

A glorious morning again this morning
as I set off on my early morning walk.

By the look of the beautiful coloured sky,
rain may be on the way.

I played sleuth checking out who had been on the path before me.
Australian coots..

human joggers..

lanky-legged pukeko..

and .. oh - oh! I've seen this sign before.
I think it was on the Colosseum wall, graffiteed a couple of thousand years ago.
Nothing new under the sun.

This woman walked along by me for a while.
She carried the whole world in her kit bag.
The large plastic globe was for a project at work she told me.

The man mowing the wet lawns stopped his tractor with a cheery hello,
careful not to fling any errant stones as I walked by.
Ah the things that I see
walking around the lake.

I walk and walk and wonder for how long I could keep walking.

A friend has thrown out a challenge to do the Camino.
800 ks across Spain.
Now that is one big challenge!
That is one Big Walk!

Reflections..

2011-05-31T19:05:00.006+12:00

The last day of May
and the end of autumn.

It has been the warmest May on record
in Aotearoa - New Zealand.

Warm and wild
with tornadoes
and earthquakes and floods.

Here in Hamilton
'where hardly anything ever happens'
it was mostly sunny or a lovely big rain
and the countryside around is still lush and green
from the warmth and wet
and crazily spring flowers have bloomed.

This afternoon I walked to visit an old friend
who rang to tell me he is dying.

It was a beautiful afternoon,
balmy and warm.

We walked in his garden.
I admired his 'last broccoli' that he expects not to eat.

We sat and reminisced
and he enchanted me with stories of his young days
and his last trip.. to New York.

Still making plans,
he told me about a painting he has comissioned ..
a metaphor of his life,
and where it will hang.

Still greatly living to the end and doing this dying thing
with such elegance, everything in order.

How wonderful to talk together so easily about dying.

I walked home feeling a deep peace.
It was a visit I will hold in my heart forever.
A gift from an old friend.

The words of Gandi kept echoing in my mind..

'When I go to sleep, I die.
When I awake, I am reborn.'

How wonderful it is when the circle gently closes
in peace.

Oh what a wonderful world..

2011-05-30T21:50:00.002+12:00

How is it that the small roots from the tree

can keep pushing, pushing until the
footpath is wrecked.

How come, after a little spell of cooler weather
followed by some warm sunny days

the spring flowers begin to bloom
in autumn.

Why does green algae suddenly grow
in the lake waters,

turning the lake surface into fake Italian marble.

Who designed the shape of leaves...

The rains have gone..

2011-05-29T21:02:00.000+12:00

My early morning walk around the lake
was perfect.
The sun shone and the air after the rain
was fresh and tingly.

The grass was wet with millions of
tiny orbs of precious water..

and the ducks were decidedly content
dabbling in the puddles.

In the peace of the bush grove I made a tiny altar
for my long time friend
who has been given the diagnosis we all fear
as grow into our latter years.

I promise to be always there for you
my dear, dear friend.

?

2011-05-29T18:59:00.003+12:00

what are these flowers?

we call them Red Hot Pokers..

or Torch Flowers.
Knipholia.
Originally from South Africa I think.
Thank you for asking Teresa Evangeline.

Rain often makes me think of you Hone..

2011-05-27T06:39:00.004+12:00

I love Hone's earthy poetry. In this clip, an older Hone is being introduced to a new CD of his poems turned into songs by some of NZ's best musos. The first sounds are of the music written for his poem Rain.
Many years ago, when I was young and naive, I taught with Hone's wife Jean. I said to her once how romantic it was to be married to a poet. She looked me in the eye, then said - it isn't all it's cracked up to be - or something to that effect - in her soft and lilting Scottish accent.
It didn't change my opinion though. Her house guests included people like James K Baxter, and once she brought to school a painting given to her as a thank you for hospitality by Ralph Hotere. It was shiny and black, heavily lacquered, with a perfect, thin red circle. I can see myself in it I said. Maybe that's what it means said Jean.
Sometime later Hone went his way. I hope Jean kept her Hotere painting. A Hotere is worth a lot of money these days.

2011-05-26T23:29:00.002+12:00

HONE TUWHARE'S: RAIN

Rain

I can hear you
making small holes
in the silence
rain

If I were deaf
the pores of my skin
would open to you
and shut

And I
should know you
by the lick of you
if I were blind

the something
special smell of you
when the sun cakes
the ground

the steady
drum-roll sound
you make
when the wind drops

But if I
should not hear
smell
feel
or see you

you would still
define me
disperse me
wash over me
rain

Hone Tuwhare 1922-2008

A Rainy Day..

2011-05-26T18:29:00.006+12:00

Official winter is only days away.

It was still dark when I woke yesterday morning
and I was surprised that I had slept soundly until 7am.

That's how life is when one lives by the sun and the seasons
instead of clocks.

The sky was a startling red..

'Red sky in the morning,
shepherds take warning.'

Rain is coming.

Some good city council goblins were out and about in the pre-dawn dark
preparing for a big rain
by sweeping leaves from the gutters.

Slowly the sky lightened
and the pesky wind blew all the leaves right back into the gutters.

Today it has rained and rained and washed the leaves down to the bottom of the street,
causing a very big puddle to form.

Today I went to the Requiem Mass of a friend's husband.
A poet and academic of some standing..

and the tupuna, the ancestors, cried their rain tears for this fallen totara.
Arohanui, Mary.
Arohanui.

Ask and you'll receive...

2011-05-24T14:20:00.007+12:00

The warm, damp weather this autumn has meant lots of mushrooms and toadstools
on lawns and along the grass verges in our street.

I cannot resist taking photos of magical fungi.

I have been saying
what I really want to see is a fairy ring .

As children we often saw fairy rings
and truly believed it was where the fairies had danced in the moonlight.

This morning..
there it was
on the grass verge by my house ..

looking like the fallen leaves,
a real fairy ring of toadstools!

"Like elves and fairies in a ring"

Hecate. Shakespeare

"And nightly, meadow fairies, look, you sing;
Like to the garter's compass, in a ring;"

The Merry Wives of Windsor. Shakespeare.

Oh yes, I know about magic mycelium threads that spread below ground
and how the mushrooms grow,

but I much prefer to think of this wonderful ring that appeared overnight
as the door into the fairies' world.

Should I step inside the ring?

It is said the ring can transport people to other places
or have them appear in the same place in a different time..

so..
if I am not here beyond today

it may well be
because
I stepped within the round and made a special wish for you...

Terrifying Tornados..

2011-05-24T08:43:00.003+12:00

Love and prayers
for
Joplin and the people of the Midwestern States Of America
from New Zealand..

our thoughts are with you
that all our blogging friends are safe..
Kia kaha!