I found this little fellow by our clothesline this afternoon. Going by his sluggishness, he was probably feeling the cold, making it easier to get up close and personal.
Speaking of grasshoppers ... which to my mind isn't totally a non sequiter ... a plug for our son S's blog from Kyoto It is great to see him back blogging again. I know as his mother I am biased, but he does write interesting posts. Drop in and pay him a visit.
***A fine Good Friday. Good enough reason for a fine picnic at a fine spot. We chose Truby King Park at Seacliff.
If you have read New Zealand writer Janet Frame's autobiography 'Angels at My Table', you may know Seacliff was where (in the 1940s, I believe) a young Frame spent some time in a large (and going by historical pictures of the place) a rather ugly and imposing hospital for mental patients. She had been misdiagnosed, and narrowly escaped being lobotomised due largely to the discovery by medical staff that she was an emerging writer.
Today there is no trace of the notorious hospital and Seacliff appears now to be a peaceful, secluded settlement. The road snakes around the railway line (I think we crossed it about four times) and houses are tucked away in the bush up steep driveways. Seacliff is named for the steep cliffs it is perched above and the ocean is a distant smudge.
We picnicked at a spot near the remains of a house's foundations. For a couple of lazy minutes, I tried to imagine the house as it must have been. Robert vaguely paced out what would have been the front door, porch etc. It appeared that we were probably sitting on what was once the front lawn. For an instant I tried to place back the layers that time had peeled away, but found it too slippery and hazy a task. I'm no ghost buster.
Besides, the realities of hearty picnic fare was a far more tantalising prospect. 'McDinzie's Tomato Relish' was put to good use with the bread and cheese. A good Ploughman's Lunch. (Eat your heart out Thomas Gray et al.)