It's not about the Destination

It's about the journey and the things you learn when you stop and be silent

Summer has been lovely and for the first time in many a long year I stayed in NZ and more particularly enjoyed my house and garden.
Long days with the windows and doors open and the sweet smell of jasmine perfuming the interior of the house whose internal shadows provided a delicious cool against the afternoon heat outside.
Early evenings, just before sunset, found me with a glass of wine in one hand and a hose in the other watering my garden and my crops of spinach which I am growing to give me iron and standing in the wisps of cooking smoke from the barbecue as they danced across the stones and bore themselves upwards before melting into the trees.

Also friends have been kind and plentiful and I have hardly had an evening alone. There has been good company nearly all the time. 
This year, too, the shop turns 100 years old.
How I have come to love being in my shop more than ever. The work itself provides useful occupation and enjoyment especially when mingled with lunches at Heizou and Tai Chi practice to the amusement of window shoppers who catch me at it and piano practice and visiting friends. Moreover it is a quiet haven away from the maddening crowd.                       I have so much to be grateful for.

Postcard from NZ

It is the season of change again and here is another postcard from ever changing face of nature in New Zealand.

"Spring rain has been in abundance; dark, rolling masses unfolding from the west and the cold that often comes with it..the storms of change, strong winds and battering rains but it's a time of change for all living things isn't it? 

Two blackbirds are mating in my garden now unperturbed by it all it would seem and yesterday a tired pigeon came into the shelter of my garage to die in a warm corner of its choosing but I foolishly sent it back outside before I realised what it really wanted.  It's lack of energy to escape was my clue and I didn't read it well. 
Story of my life it would seem. I don't read clues.

The pale-eyed, grey clad armies of winter huddle around now smokeless fires ushering in the triumphant, blazing reds and golds and brilliant greens of spring.  

Truly every season is wonderful and you and I are still above the ground to see them.  How lovely for us both."

Indeed, every changes brings their own loveliness.  Even the slightest shift in one mind's paradigm can bring out the brightest light from within.
More of this to come later, but now, lets thank the season of change.

Rugby World Cup (RWC) 2011 fever!!!

I'm not a huge fan of any kind of sport involving sweaty men.  This time however, I educated myself through Wiki and I was sucked right inside the RWC fever.  It's happening at home and it unites everyone more than ever.  Even when I'm far away from home, I felt the excitement as I watched the highlights of the opening ceremony & match online.

For the fans in NZ, there is "FANZONE".  Nice place to take a long Saturday morning stroll.

An education on the scrummies / WAGS here.  Anyone spotted a royal yet?  I wonder...Auckland is pretty small.

Midwinter Story

It's past midwinter here and each day the skies are full of joy and sorrow.
Sun and rain display themselves with vigour and all living things are mute in wonder at it all.

The passing displays of rage and quietude.

After work yesterday I rode up to Matakana on the bike in waning winter light.

The bike hummed in exhiliration at its new freedom and we rode together through Long shadows, darkening colours and keen, cold air.

Gradually the straight and long motorway gave way to turns and twists and as I passed by fields wet with winter rains and turned through slick corners, black and shiny with soft rains, the poetry of the ride seized me and the joy of living came as an unexpected but wonderfully welcome warmth as the keen air felt for all the chinks in my armour.

It was beautiful.

At the last, when the light was almost gone, I turned to the coast and rode to my friends' cottage facing a still and cosy bay and already aglow with the evening fire and the first glass of wine.
He is a painter and she a photographer.

Our friendship goes back before time it seems.
The kindnesses of old friends are worth more than can be said................

Auckland's Summer Rain

I used to hate the in between seasons in Auckland. Weather would be like a woman's mood (during PMS). Rain one minute, sunshine the next. Once, I took my laundry in and out of the clothing lines, three times. But read what my dear dear friend wrote to me yesterday. Made me miss home more, even it's PMS weather.

"It's raining big fat hot drops of rain here Anna Young. The garden is purring like a cat. Each flower, each plant has its face turned to heaven's kiss.

It's a wet but content world outside my walls.

The cat's on the bed asleep after I combed him and a bolognese sauce is bubbling on the stove in anticipation of my old friend Maureen who is coming to me for dinner and a massage tonight. 35 years ago I loved her madly and passionately but we were obviously supposed to be good friends instead. I often smile about this as I rub her back.

Anna Young the dead palm fronds of summer have fallen on my bowing, wind-listless bamboo forcing them to their knees.

Tomorrow I will have to go out and remove them so the Bamboo can move and whisper to me once again at night in my dreams.

It does that which is why I like it."