Slipping into silver

Winter draws me back behind its veil. I've been tripping about, exclaiming at signs of spring, but not today. One step forward, one step back is the transition dance right now. I draw back from driving through the traffic to yoga, and instead wander down to the jetty to sit.  It's late afternoon. I can feel the day dropping away. Gently, the incoming tide laps against the rocks.
The scene is luminous, yet without colour, and my mind slips into stillness, into liquid silver. One definition of yoga is the stilling of the mind. Here as I sit, I am in yoga.

Elegance

Walking in the rain again, having told myself before I set out that I'll be glad I made the effort. It's late afternoon and the grey day has begun to bite. But I'm looking for signs of spring these days, and what should I find but a glorious magnolia tree! Its blossoms are sumptuous and elegant, reaching up into the grey sky from bare branches. I feel I'm looking into a Japanese painting.
Blossoms without leaves, that's what my new visions are like. I'm full of buds of promise, but the energy is not yet sufficient for growth. 'Be patient,' I tell myself. I find I'm starting sentences with 'when spring comes'. Meanwhile, the magnolia makes me glad.

Green candles

Kawakawa is coming into flower, putting up its little green candles. Underneath, jonquils stand tall, breathing out heavenly fragrance. Snowdrops are displaying their little white skirts.
I perk up. I am starting to believe in spring.

Shimmer

Even on a grey wintry day, subtle shimmers of light break through the clouds. I drove to the dentist, feeling a little wan, and who should I discover in the waiting room but an old friend. I had just connected with her on 'Linked In' the day before! After a warm hug, I felt that the sun had come out.
On the way home I stopped to admire Rangitoto in the winter light, over a stretch of glimmering water. Beauty is everywhere, even when we least expect it.

Faces in the flames

The wood fire brings such good cheer to the bach as heavy rain drums on the roof. The walls warm up and the whole room turns toasty. When I tried photographing the flames, to my surprise, many of the photos displayed faces. I remember as a child seeing faces and dancing figures in our old open fire in Taranaki. The first story I ever published (in the school journal) was about an old woman gazing into a fire and seeing her whole life playing out there. Now I am gradually becoming the old woman, and the faces have appeared.

Undaunted

Serious rain began to fall as I left town, but sometimes it’s best to confront the weather and not hide from it. Out at the bach, I stepped out undaunted under my big umbrella, into the rain. After about ten minutes, a sudden sun break delivered sparkling beauty and wonder: the catch of blue from the wings of a heron as it flapped wetly upstream; the contrast of silver marram and deep gold pingao against the black sand; a blue-headed chaffinch flashing a red breast; and through it all the thin winter light that sheds magic over a well-known landscape.

Sharing the sun

As I walked down the road towards home, I stopped in front of an old house. There on the street someone had placed a box of grapefruit fresh from the tree - free for the taking. I took one and put it in my pocket, feeling I was carrying the sun.
What a bright winter gift! When I returned to take a photo, an old man was kneeling in front of a bucket of mandarins, writing another sign. He's been living in the neighbourhood for 45 years, and apologised that this year the mandarins are a little small.
Sharing our bounty: it's a co-operative impulse that warms the bonds between neighbours and citizens. As the Japanese proverb says, 'One kind word can warm three winter months.'