Wednesday, 7 August 2019
Here in Aotearoa, spring is in a hurry and winter is growling about that. As result of winter's displeasure (pardon blatant 'seasonal anthropomorphism') we've lately been treated to bitter weather blowing in from Antarctica.
However, the signs of spring persist.
It's a time to celebrate what is left of winter and get ready to welcome in the new season.
In our glasshouse, grape leaves are dying in resplendent umber.
Glasshouse guddle waits to be used.
The rhubarb sprouts.
Tulips and daffs share the one pot. Ready to bloom. Soon.
The celery has bravely forged on through the winter. Its bright green, able to be seen from our kitchen window, a tonic for the eyes.
The neighbour's wilderness of a backyard allows wattle to creep through our fence. This will be chopped back. But in the meantime, I'll enjoy its colour and perfume.
No doubt there are some real variety hibernating hedgehogs sleeping under leaves around here and will emerge once spring truly arrives.
After spring comes summer, and beach days. Shell gathering. Ah, but I mustn't rush things. The days are going fast enough as it is.
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...