I tick a few nagging tasks off my to do list
I feel lighter
freer
energised:
ready for February

honesty

'PLUMS $2 a bag (in letter box thanks)'
handwritten in black on a brown cardboard sign:
a wooden ledge displaying 6 bags of freshly picked plums
invites roadside shoppers

cyclone wilma whips around the house as I drift off to sleep
my dreams are vivid and confusing
faces not seen for years appear in places that seem strangely familiar
I am woken early by a hungry miaow

when you're covered in a warm white coat of birman fluff
the only place to curl up on a humid summer evening
is in the cool steel of the laundry sink

back in the river

We're back from our holiday up north! After a very VERY wet and stormy start the weather brightened and we had some beautiful sunny beachy days, swimming, boogie boarding, exploring rock pools, collecting shells and walking along bush trails and sandy beaches. We had no internet, virtually no cell phone coverage and no tv. Perfect!
Here is a pocketful of stones collected while I was away :

torrential rain eases to a steady downpour

I take another sip of sauvignon blanc and buy Pall Mall (Monopoly)

----

the sea is a furious cauldrom of creamy foam

a blanket of grey hangs gloomily over the pot

not quite the tranquil postcard scenes we anticipated

but no less beautiful

----

after the storm, the beach is a treasure trove of flotsam from the sea:
seed pods, sea weed, drift wood, pebbles and shells
strewn in a tidal trail across the sand
a peace offering
----
we scramble up the side of the hill to catch a glimpse of the blue bay and rocky coastline on the other side
----
a large kereru bird emerges from the depths of the puriri tree,
sated with juicy red berries -
and launches himself into the evening air
----
sometimes a memory is rose tinted and returning to the place it was made disappoints
but then there are times when returning only reinforces and expands one's stockpile of joy
----

the phone rings
I answer
it's my canadian cousin
calling me from yesterday

funeral

cars line the streets around our local church
people spill out of the back of the hall, standing in the midday heat
a hearse is parked across the entrance
I wonder who died:
young or old, man or woman?
someone deeply loved
will be sorely missed

friendly ferns reach their verdant fronds across the muddy path
tickling our legs as we pass

hot sticky mugginess wraps around my body
as we await the storm

Talya (my animal lover): 'Did you see that Mommy? They even said it on the tv - a dog is man's best friend!'

it seems like only yesterday that I landed in this land of the long white cloud
changing country
changing life
changing self
it's ten years and I wonder if I will ever find my way back home
to me

we can't find the gingerbread man cutter in the drawer so we make stars instead
bursting with honey and spices
deliciousness fills the house as they bake

I dash down the dune towards the sea
black ironsand scorching the soles of my feet
it's like running over hot coals

it's funny how refreshing a warm cup of tea can be on a hot summer's afternoon
I feel cooler and calmer with each sip

the subtle change in light as I step outside at 6am
reminds me that summer won't last forever

Anika: 'Daddy knows all about those cars 'cause he was alive in the olden days'
I smile.
Talya: 'But Mommy was alive then too!'
I laugh.

dawn

dull grey becomes vibrant salmon pink
as the sun casts its early rays across the morning clouds

vineyard

I am lost in thought and
almost miss
the perfect symmetry of vines
brown gnarled trunks securing them to fertile soil
fresh green shoots reaching upwards
promising fine wine

sinking my teeth into a slice of fruit-bursting spice-infused brandy-soaked Christmas cake,
I resolve to walk an extra half hour
tomorrow

holiday reading

Mister Pip's last page comes too soon and I return to my world with a thud
the only thing to do is dive headfirst into another book