West coast flowering

I've just had a weekend at the wild west coast, where the weather changed from howling wind to soft rain and then intense heat. The kanuka trees were shaking their heads in the wind, as the wind wound around the high-up bach where eight women gathered to celebrate 25 years of seasonal rituals together.

It seemed that all the blossom would shake away, but it held. And down in the valley below, a pohutukawa was flowering in the warm shelter of the river flat.

Welcome summer

It happened so quickly. Suddenly the cool weather was over and I was peeling layers off my bed and stowing away my winter clothes. With the sun's return, I feel surrounded with benevolence. This is a gentle time, with the sun not too fierce, just warm and easy.
Here is my homage to early summer; a sun circle made from the leaves of the jade plants on my balcony. I enjoy the way that some leaves take on a red hue, while others are quite green, depending on how much sun and rain they receive. Other leaves are marked like butterfly wings or little gems.
I had fun selecting leaves and finding the best way to arrange them. This image took two days of attempts before I was satisfied. I've made it into a summer solstice card and am sending it out to friends. Here I offer it for all to enjoy.

Pohutukawa

The first pohutukawa started flowering around the city a couple of weeks ago. Along the coast, they are a little slower, and out on the west coast, are still forming buds.
My heart sings when I gaze into these blossoms. They are so generous, such a happy, soft spiky presence! And each stamen is dotted with bright yellow pollen, just waiting for the bees to come and dust themselves as they gather the nectar.
If I were a bee, I'd spend all afternoon rolling around in these welcoming flowers.

The leafiness of trees

Do trees take a rest after all that hard work of spring: putting out buds, pushing them into leaves, then more leaves, pushing out through that winter-hard bark, and finally producing a full canopy? Do they breath a big sigh and settle into receiving full-on energy from the sun, pumping through the veins of every leaf as photosynthesis takes place?
I've just reviewed all the hard work I did this spring. I'd like to think of myself as a leafy tree right now, and rest in the satisfaction of a full canopy.

Why are there trees I never walk under but large and 
melodious thoughts descend upon me?
-  Walt Whitman

Summer beach play

The day began with the morning light making magical patterns on my bedroom wall. The afternoon ended on the beach with Mira. I made a sandcastle while she dug in the sand with a garden trowel I brought along (though later she decided a teaspoon was more fun). As I gathered weed and shells to decorate the sandcastle I was carried back to one I made as a child. I won the prize for the best sandcastle at the Sunday School picnic, and was thrilled. As I watched Mira's intense absorption in digging and gathering I felt there was little difference between us. As soon as I'm playing with sand, I'm a little child once more, lost in time. How strange it is, ageing on the outside yet remaining fresh on the inside.

Heart circle

I journeyed to Waiheke today, to check out a venue for my summer retreat. There's something about crossing water that invites reflection, and carries me into another zone. On Waiheke I felt I'd left all cares behind and was on holiday — except for one thing, and that is my thoughts of the miners and their families from the Pike River Mine. Wherever I stop, I think of them. 

On Palm Beach I made another small memorial, using black seaweed and charcoal. Both made me think of coal. And so here are 29 coal-black shapes, held within a shining heart of shells.

When I had finished, this sea gull stood as if in vigil.

Beach Play

This afternoon at the local beach I played with what I found on the sand. It's so long since I did this, and I enjoyed warming up to what could be a season of beach play.

I worked quite unconsciously, not sure what I was doing, yet feeling it was about something.

Now when I look at the pieces, I think of the 29 miners who lost their lives last week in the South Island.

These pieces are my memorial to them.