Singing of green

 In the northern hemisphere, you are on the threshold of Halloween, and on the east coast of America, you are being lashed with fierce storms. Here it is Beltane, the season of peak green, the spring festival. The sun is shining and the leaves are frothing from the trees,

 blossom abounds, sprouting from the barest of stumps,

 and then there are the delicate leaves,

 that cast shadows as if they were Japanese ink drawings.

The season of hope has arrived,

and the ti, or cabbage trees are blooming profusely, a sign, according to Maori, of a warm summer to come.

Blessings and prayers to all whose shelter is threatened by the fierce storms of the east coast of America.

Beans & candles

I got them in just in time. Six bean plants for the coming summer.

 and just for fun I popped nasturtium flowers on the ground between them, not exactly companion planting perhaps, more like companionable planting, to cheer up the beans. Because the weather was changing. At exactly 11.30 am that day, the storm hit the bach with a great wham! Water cascaded down the walls, and when I opened the door, a waterfall rushed inside. I shut it fast. The wind picked up the bach in its giant hand and shook it hard. It tore leaves from the trees, then twigs, then branches. Then it turned to the power lines.

 And just on 6 pm, as I was preparing to cook dinner, the lights went out. And stayed out all night, and all of the next day. At times like this the wood fire is my favourite thing in all the world. The gleam you can see in the top of the picture is the kettle, which eventually warmed up enough for a hot water bottle, and on the right is a small pan in which I was able to - well not exactly heat, but let's say, take the chill off some leftovers from the fridge.

With candles lit everywhere, and the fire radiating its warmth, I was cosy. I'd come out to the bach, fleeing modern technology with all of its problems, seeking a world that drifts back in time, and that's exactly what I got. With candles, and a torch, I was able to continue my absorption in 'The Hare with Amber Eyes'. No music except the sound of the wind. No company except the rain drumming on the roof. No phone, because the line went down an hour later. Life was basic, and simple again. I slept deeply and peacefully. I found what I was looking for.

'Better to light a single candle than to curse the darkness.' (old saying)

Time to go

 The waders were enjoying the golden day too

 but then, all together, they decided something

 Yes, it's time to go.

 Come on, there's a change in the air, and we've got to get back

Quickly now, let's go.

They were right, and in my next post I'll tell you about it.

A golden day

 I'm back at last, and I've missed you all. After two weeks of I.T. challenges, including the loss of all my photos, I am (almost back on track). A couple of hours ago my photos were restored (however now I can't send emails!) But enough of that, because I want to tell you about the golden day, when I ran away to the beach, into a world that dances to a more leisurely tune. The sun shone and the lupins were alight, like candles.

 the stream was serene and soothing,

 and the beach as calm as a summer's day. It was so warm that I peeled off many layers.

 I walked, I drifted like the tides, and towards the end of the afternoon wandered back, having lost all sense of time.

 and what should I see, to crown this perfect day, but a figure in white down by the lagoon.

A spring wedding is a risky business, but this bride had the best of luck, getting married on a golden day between the gusts and the rain, and edging her way down to the water for a beautiful set of photos.

It does me good to drift back to this day of blessings, remembering the restorative power of nature, which never fails.

The waves are waiting

The ocean is waiting.

I'm off to the coast tomorrow, to watch the waves, breathe the fresh air, and let go of trying to do the impossible.
My computer is going to hospital over the weekend, for a transplant that will end up making it just like new (so I'm told).
And so I'm going off line, to a zone before the age of the compulsive screens, to a zone where the lazy horizon seems to stretch forever.
I'm taking with me a very solid book, The Hare with Amber Eyes, a book about former times, and I'll walk, and plant and read.

And drift with the tides.

Into another time zone. 

Until Monday, when I welcome back the invalid, and together we will find our way back into the modern age.

See you later.

Feasting on flowers

 I promised myself I would resist blogging this week. I need to focus, I said, on the task of processing the editorial changes for my new book. This is a complex stage of book production, and I wanted to make good progress on it.

But hidden among the leaves, great fragrance is wafting out.

 Total focus on the file, I told myself. But Nature had other plans. Alas, by p. 40 it was apparent that the file had become corrupted. The editor is on holiday and could not be contacted. And my computer was becoming sick and slow, a separate problem and just as serious.

Meanwhile, spring flowers are dripping down from the vines

 I knew what must be done, and left messages for my trusty Mac man. But alas, when I tried his cellphone, having received no answers, his sad wife answered to say that he died last week.  They have a young child. Andrei was kind, methodical, and always there to help me out from a tight computer spot.

He has been taken in the springtime of his life.

 There must be so many of us who will miss him.

We are weeping blue tears amidst the greening of spring.

 It's time to call it a day. Whatever my plans were of getting through masses of editing this week, clicking the tracking boxes off with glee and ending up with a sense of achievement, it is not to be.

The kowhai are dripping from the trees, full of sweet nectar

Tomorrow I will try Geeks on Wheels. They are more expensive and weren't able to finish the job last time they called. The corrupted file cannot be touched. I have to work around it, and do what I can on paper.

And a single rose blooms amongst the hips of last autumn. 

Andrei, this one is for you.

Rest in peace.

Fine ladies want to play

 It's spring and I have my finery on. Don't I look gorgeous?

 My friend is still shedding a bit of winter bad-hair, but I still think she looks a treat. And we want to play! But the weather teases us, with a flash of sun, followed by cloud, wind and rain.

Come on girls, maybe we'll set out together. Let's get out on the town and show them what birds of paradise can do. After all, it's spring and if we wait any longer our finery will fade. Let's go!

Lost among the leaves

I've been lost for days, among leaves of a certain kind, leafing through four previous books and comparing the words with those on screen. Attending to the weighty task of Digital Conversion (which means turning printed books to e-books), and feeling the pinch, the loss of the sensuous experience, colour, good design and the reliable formatting of poems.

Aah; it was time to break out, to seek leaves of a different kind.

I went for a walk, and spring was singing through the air,

 with an upward thrust of greening, filling out the empty spaces,

 shining waxen with newness,

 or delicate, yet emphatically tracing patterns on the sky,

 bursting into unexpected colour

 and frothing like candy floss,

 and my spirits lifted with the bursting twigs, 

the leaves of spring, in all their myriad forms. 

Lost amongst the green, lost in the leaf-filled sky, lost in the joy of the season.