Saturday, 18 June 2016
protea; represents change and hope
posing tree still in its autumn skirt
we need more rain
cute urban nature sign about seagulls
cute urban nature sign about spring tides
solid, practical sign showing the way to the albatross and penguins and seals - among other attractions
one of my favourite trees and the best thing about it, is that it's all ours
The '30 Days Wild' (#30DaysWild) challenge runs until the end of the month. It's a UK challenge that I have butted in on. It requires keeping eyes and *ears out to note nature. Participants are also invited to do various things that require interacting in fun ways with nature. Because going on a picnic doesn't really appeal in the middle of winter (cold grass = cold arse!) I'm opting for the easy road and just keeping my eyes open for the little things I come across in my normal run of the mill activities.
*the quality and degree to which I can hear nature, depending of course upon whether or not I'm wearing a woolly, winter hat. Luckily this year (so far) winter is being kind and I've hardly had to wear a hat on my outings
Apparently the lunar cycle we are in at present, has a full moon at solstice - the first time for seventy years. Seventy years ago my mother was a fifteen year old high-school student, my father a 26-year old flanker for the Orepuki rugby team, and I was seven years away from existence. As a consequence, this is my first full-moon-winter-solstice (if the facts about the full moon are correct, that is. It gets a mite complicated when half the world is experiencing a different kind of solstice to the other half. Maybe it's only half of seventy years ago? I'll stop. I'm only confusing myself).
One thing I am sure about: it's Dunedin's mid-winter carnival tonight - food stalls and a lantern parade, followed by fireworks. My son and his family are taking part in the lantern parade, so we will be there on the sidelines to watch the display - which is always beautiful.
Writing for me at the moment consists of poetry and book reviews. 'Craggan Dhu: (Part One's) ' first draft is slowly becoming a second draft, but still with a ways to go. Like me seventy years ago, maybe - except the novel is far more substantial than just a twinkle in my father's eye!
Really hanging out for that week away in a cottage with no interruptions, appointments, duties or distractions of any kind. Just a grindstone with my nose attached.
Sunday, 12 June 2016
seagulls and black-backed gulls
gulls over Andersons Bay inlet
Another walk to the inlet to see what I could come up with for the #30DaysWild challenge.
At present here, low tide is around 4.00 - 5.00 pm. Despite the inlet not being as attractive as it is at high tide, an ebbing tide does expose the interesting workings of the inlet's underbelly, and never fails to provide entertainment of the avian variety.
Yesterday at dusk, the gulls were indulging in a feeding frenzy. Possibly the result of a glut of mackerel. The inlet can resemble a simmering pot when the mackerel are in and jumping.
My favourite birds to watch diving for food, are the terns. There were no terns to be seen today. Black-backed gulls do throw their weight around, so it's reasonable to assume that the more slightly-built terns are wary.
As I watched the aerial waltz-moves of the gulls, the *music playing through my headphones provided an apt theme tune for the visuals. It was a sweet moment.
* 'Paris, Texas', Ry Cooder followed by 'All Alright', Sigur Ros
Closer to home, the leaves of a tree at the bottom of our driveway caught my eye. The green leaves on the tree seem to indicate a tree reluctant to admit that it is mid-winter. However, today's fall in temperature may hasten the tree to take a reality check. There is snow in the air, I can smell it. Enough to turn any green leaf yellow.
Thursday, 9 June 2016
the skin-like tones on the bole of eucalyptus tree
dusk over Andersons Bay inlet
sun sinks behind Dunedin city
two ducks on a sunset-stained inlet
As part of the 30 Days Wild (a UK nature challenge I'm taking part in from way over on the other side of the world) I took the camera to the inlet just down the road and snapped some shots of a winter early-evening (or late-afternoon, depends whether you are a glass half full or glass half empty kind of person, I guess).
Alert to any sign of wildness in the city, I noted leaves plastered to the footpath. They looked like fallen stars. From their shape, I identified one lot as maple. Another group reminded me of ginkgo leaves I'd seen in Japan. They're easy to identify because they look so much like fans. ... I wondered if I was correct in my identification. I wanted to take photos of the leaves, but there was a woman washing her car at the maples and a group of young people playing basketball close to the ginkgo leaves. I feel far too self-conscious to take photos when there are people about. I just know that they'd wonder what the weird woman was doing.
I saw a flock of birds suddenly fly off, looking like the pieces of an exploded umbrella.
A smudgy-faced ginger cat; no doubt waiting for its owners imminent return home from work; greeted me with a single, plaintive mew.
I heard ululating black-backed gulls. Smelt the mud from an inlet laid bare by the low tide. I saw to the right, a pale new moon in a blue patch of sky, and to the left, the sun fast losing its grip on the southern hemisphere.
I stopped to watch two ducks, trailing placid, silver, v-shaped lines in their wake. Such peaceful birds. I stood there a while, gathering in the calm that often falls at day's ebb. (Just writing that last sentence, makes me feel like an 18th century poet. At that moment I wanted to be an 18th century poet. For one second, I was an 18th century poet).
Then, back to being just an ordinary, 21st century, older-middle-aged woman (just how do you describe someone aged somewhere between middle-aged and elderly anyway? Old? Somehow I'm just not ready to describe myself thus. Not yet.) I set off again, along the gravel track which today was full of glinting, moon-shaped puddles. Every so often I had to duck off to the side to let a homeward-bound cyclist go past. It's a popular area for dog owners as well and I passed a few dogs taking their owners for walks.
I'm sure that having the '30 Days Wild' on my mind meant I saw things I wouldn't have noticed otherwise. The old birds-nest in a bare-branched tree, for example, and the roses leaning against a garage wall, pink and staunch and still going strong, despite it being June. And then there was the five native trees along the boundary line below our driveway; splendidly pulling off their cool, winter looks.
Just as I reached home, my friend and neighbour, N. called out. She asked me if I was going to the Regent Book Sale (a regular, iconic Dunedin event) and would I like to go with her tomorrow? At first I said no, as I am going to go in on Saturday morning. Afterwards, I changed my mind, thinking, why not? Surely both the event and myself can handle two visits?
Going wild at a 24-hour Book Sale, sounds just like my cup of tea.
Saturday, 4 June 2016
Wind-fish; a gift from a Japanese student (Yuki) who stayed with us in 1998. A little worse for wear now. It used to chime when it was windy, but we found the sound a mite annoying, so one wild, windy night, it was cut free of its metal tongue.
It was lost in our garden for many years, until our daughter-in-law (also from Japan as it turns out) found it this year, when it was re-instated to something akin to its former glory; hanging from a branch and once more (except this time, silently) reminding us of greetings from Japan.
prism & rainbow
From the other side of the world, I am taking part in this - a UK challenge to a 30-day focus on nature through the month of June.
This is their description:
30 Days Wild is a campaign which challenges you to do something wild every day in June. That’s 30 days and 30 random acts of wildness!
Harder to complete in winter, I daresay, but the idea appealed to me. Any blog posts this month will reflect this '30-days Wild' theme.
One of the ideas is to leave part of your garden to grow wild. In my case that is not going to be difficult. In fact you could say, it has already been well and truly achieved.
Wednesday, 1 June 2016
bedroom mirror and reflections
bedroom mirror in black and white
twin beds & candlewick bedspreads
lamp-stand with fringed lightshade
coffee cups on holder
coffee mugs on wooden hooks
reflected in a teapot
salt & pepper shakers
mantle clock and two scotties
After my mother died, two years ago now, we had to clear her home of her possessions; a sad task. Part of the sadness involved the necessary and permanent disassembling of a home's personality and heart.
This reminder of impermanence may have been on my mind last weekend when I stayed with my aunty (my mother's sister) and the reason why I took the photos shown above, of some of the things that to me seemed to reflect her home's particular personality.
The personalities of homes interest me; but not the House and Garden variety of home so much as homes that by their very nature, show a devotion to the personality of their owners.
Like people, there are no two homes alike.
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