For you, at Solstice

 Here at the bach, life is simple. No shops, no piped water, no through roads; and so gifts must be conjured up out of whatever nature provides.
 For solstice, I have made you a basket. Because it's summer solstice today in New Zealand, little suns dance around the rim.

 and on the inside are berries, for ripening, a feather for the flight of the imagination, and a 'rabbit's tail' to caress your cheek. In the world there have been some harsh events. And so I send you a basket of goodness,

 full of treasures chosen by Mira, little gifts to warm your heart.

 And a fish, to remind you of swimming freely. Here we are swimming or splashing daily in the stream, lagoon or sea, wriggling our legs and squealing with delight.

Finally, I have made you a ball. In the ball I have caught the sun. At solstice, the sun turns. Our peak moment is here, and from now on, the sun will be yours. I bounce this ball across the world to all of you in the northern hemisphere,

where the snow is falling and you shiver in the freezing air, I bounce the sun over to you.
Solstice blessings to you all!

The troll and the fairy

The stream runs quietly down to the sea from the bush clad hills of the Centennial Memorial Park.

 The waters are flanked by wild flowers

and under the bridge lives a troll

 who has to be appeased with feasts of fish, chocolate drink, and soup, all gathered from the edges of the stream.

 Yes, the bach fairy has come to visit, and she knows all about such things. She even makes 'berries' for the troll by tying knots in pieces of reed. Whenever a car approaches and the troll booms out 'Pass', she squeals with delight as the car rumbles overhead.

The stream itself has its own magic. 'Look granny, I can see the sand swimming.'

 We two are together in my favourite place. The mist has cleared, the sun is out, and playtime has begun.

My turn now

 The bach is wrapped around with a shawl of mist. The shawl has floated down from the cloud-filled sky and softly caressed the hill tops.
I am enveloped in sweet solitude as I recover from a life with too many details in it. Soft focus is perfect.

And what's more I am being sung to, by many hidden songsters in the kanuka trees. The tuis have been melodious all day with their 'chk, chk, chaa!', while the pipiwharauroa (shining cuckoo) sings its high soprano, 'kui, kui, kui, whiti, whiti, ora' (this is what Maori heard it say; it means 'no food, no food, no food', which was the song at the start of spring, then ends with the phrase that means there is now plenty').
Other birds twitter or sound just one or two shrill notes. Their music strikes through the misty surroundings like a ray of light.
I am relaxing, and letting go. It's warm and humid here today. I've been sitting and lying a lot, and letting the bird song sink into me. Delicious.

Songs for Franklin Rd

 Franklin Road is a very wide street in Ponsonby. Great trees arch across the road and intertwine their leafy canopies throughout the summer. There is also something else that is special about Franklin Rd.

 Little by little, over the years, the residents have adopted the practice of 'lighting up' their houses for Christmas.

 Some of them have a modest approach

 but everyone does something, and some are quite elaborate,

even providing a seat for people to be photographed on,

 and inventive, using every bit of fence and verandah as a prop for lights of all colours.

 I took these photos just as the light was fading. I was on my way to the Voice Club party, in a house on Franklin Road. There we feasted, laughed and talked, relieved that our big concert was over last week,

but we still had plenty of songs inside us. And so, as is our tradition, we stepped out on to the street and sang for the crowds of people, mostly young, who walk up and down Franklin Rd once darkness falls. The atmosphere was festive, with everyone gaping and pointing at the brightly lit houses, and then stopping to enjoy our songs.
It must take a lot of coordination for everyone to light up their houses like this, and they give so much pleasure to young and old. It's a fun place to sing, and a good way to bring a year of hard vocal work to a happy conclusion.

How we flowered!

 Everything is flowering profusely on the west coast this summer. Manuka and kanuka with their tiny white flowers give the hillsides a star-dusty look. My women's group, that celebrates seasonal festivals together, gathered for a weekend together

 in my friend's bach, which is higher up the hill than mine. From it we feel we are soaring like birds over the hidden valley in which the pohutukawa blooms, so richly this year,

and we drift out over the large inland dune that formed Lake Wainamu, hidden but always felt, in the V of the hills.

 Food, as always, was delicious and varied. This salad was made from rocket, smoked fish and hard-boiled eggs - very frisky on the palate.

Outside, the sea merged into mistiness or grew golden in the sunsets.

Here's a little glimpse of our centerpiece, which we put together each time from various symbols that we bring: a paua shell fragment in a deep blue bowl of water,

 a cloth, candle, fruit and leaves as we formed our circle and contemplated the theme of giving and receiving,

and these cosmos flowers, which burst out in my bach garden the day before. With six women (2 absent this time), who have met for 20 - 28 years for this purpose, and with summer solstice so close, it's no wonder that we felt expansive and grateful. We flowed into deep conversations, the stillness of meditation, and felt, yet again the full flowering of our love for one another and the richness of our lives.

Oh how we sang!

 We have just had our annual concert. This is the 4th year now that I've been singing with the Voice Club - 70 to 80 of us who love to sing. We are directed by the talented David Tillinghast, who does some amazing arrangements, often with zany rhythms. This year we sang to several hundred people in a big Auckland school auditorium.

 'Dress colourfully,' said David, and so we did.

 We put on our best finery, and our most brilliant colours.

And oh, how we sang! with heart and soul. Knowing we were raising money for charity, put a glow in our hearts. It's a busy time of year, but summer solstice and Christmas are both seasons for thinking of others.

This year we have been able to help a couple of schools in the poorer part of South Auckland to buy instruments, and also had enough to give to help families of young people who have cancer. At the end of the concert, we had big smiles on our faces, feeling the joy of song and the joy of giving, coming together.
PS The audience had a good time too!

Spring playfulness

 Yes, I know that spring has just officially ended. But I've been busy, as you know, with book production. And I must show you what I've been collecting over the last few weeks. First of all, leaves peeping cheekily out through a fence.

 Then there was Italian Day in Freemans Bay. The children loved playing around inside these giant bubbles. Some clever person worked out how to get them inside and then inflate the bubble all around them. They had a wonderful time, somersaulting and tumbling around.

 Some children from a local school gave a performance of folk dancing.

 Italy's colours of green, red and white looked fresh and clear. This little girl was a natural, really enjoying herself.

 And finally, as I was walking home one windy day, a balloon bounced across the road and down the footpath in front of me. Remember that movie, The Red Balloon'? Well I felt like the little boy following the balloon, only mine was yellow. It then bounced down a long drive way

 and I followed . . .

until it finally eluded me. I hope the family living in this house had a nice surprise when a yellow balloon bounced up their front steps.
And I hope that you too have some nice surprises bouncing their way towards you.