Thursday, 30 July 2009
My Nana (Bessie Butler) as a child.
Have reached two writing deadlines this past couple of weeks, so I'm very feeling smug. There are more deadlines on the horizon though, just to keep me on task. Deadlines are great ways to keep me writing. Otherwise it feels like I am writing at the bottom of an empty water tank, thrashing out at hollow, tin walls.
Our son Chris has arrived for a couple of nights as his week's snow-boarding in the South Island mountain ski fields had to be abandoned sooner than planned because of bad weather. But he got in four days worth, so he's happy. We will savour every moment he's here because soon he is going overseas for a year. First to Chile, then Portugal, then Mexico.
My Grandad (Reg Lee).
This will mean that over half of our family will be living overseas. Kiwis, although named after a flightless bird, are anything but grounded - in the sense of flight anyway. We have a reputation for being incurable travellers. Scratch any corner of the world, and you'll most likely find a kiwi. Some think this yearning to wander (like Di) is because we live so far away from anywhere else and need to get out and experience the world in order not to feel so cut off. But I think it may have something to do with the fact that we hail from migratory and / or emigrant stock. At present my sister and partner are curiously exploring Townsville, Australia and intend to go from there to the Daintree Forest, among other places in that part of the world.
Meanwhile back here in the middle of a very long winter, we will keep the home fires burning. For me, tomorrow is another writing day. I will be writing about home and family history and what I see around me. For now, happy enough to be grounded.
I have been neglecting this blog for some months. I think perhaps I should face facts and accept that it is indeed time to retire this blog...
Calling all poets -: Just a reminder about the poetry competition currently running at poems in the Waiting Room - go HERE for details. Clo...
The mild winter that we are experiencing has everyone remarking. I put out sugar water for the birds, but so far it has o...
Waipounamu (Wall Poem) Hoisting history on his back like a sugar-sack, the swagger strides along greenstone trails. All night the crib...