Monday, March 31, 2014
Monday, March 24, 2014
Friday, March 21, 2014
Here, summer is gently washing away as autumn drops in quietly with the falling leaves.
The sea is calm, the day is serene.
We give thanks for the harvest of the heart's work;
Seeds of faith planted with faith;
Love nurtured by love;
Courage strengthened by courage.
We give thanks for the fruits of the struggling soul,
the bitter and the sweet;
For that which has grown in adversity
And for that which has flourished in warmth and grace;
For the radiance of the spirit in autumn
And for that which must now fade and die.
We are blessed and give thanks.
Monday, March 17, 2014
From the lower slopes of Owairaka we could see the Waitemata harbour to the north.
But in the 1890s NZ Railways ran a line to the base of the mountain. They built a tramway up the slopes and began to quarry away the scoria from the top. Did Wairaka, the ancestor, turn in her grave? Did she curse and cry?
If she did, it made no difference. 15 metres (nearly 50 feet) were carved off the top of the mountain, and the result is a sad flatness. The scoria was used to construct railways and roads, including the north-western motorway along which I drive to the bach. Eventually, after decades of protest, the quarrying was stopped.
And so I sit, musing on the free-draining scoria that makes my drive to the bach smooth under the tarseal of the motorway; musing on the lost cone.
Musing on the tension between the demands of modern transport needs, and the need to conserve our precious heritage.
And musing on Wairaka, whose heroic action has been forever remembered by her descendants and by those who visit Owairaka.
Monday, March 3, 2014
I felt sad to know that the ingredients for my favourite summer dish were at an and.
I love feijoas and can devour them very quickly. Despite my reluctance to acknowledge that cooler days must be here, together with the feijoas, I carried the bag to the bach with my mouth watering. (But dear reader, no gratification yet, because they need to ripen a little).