existing's tricky:but to live's a gift
I started writing this post towards the end of October, as I began to stir and emerge from the blur of the first few weeks. I remember turning the page of my calendar and realising with a physical shock that the month was almost over. I’d barely noticed it had begun.
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It’s September 1st 2022, just after 6pm. I’m writing in the grey of the gloaming. Outdoors a dogged barking, the tu-tu-tu twitter of the birds, the occasional rush of a car. The trees are still, the sky bruised.
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August – September Update I’ve spread a teatowel over the counter in order to bring my laptop close. The sounds of the kitchen embrace me: the soft burr of the timer, the hiss and sigh of the pot on the stove. Outdoors night is falling, the window to my right dark and green, grey sky…
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From Devonport Wharf through Maungauika Reserve down to Cheltenham Beach. And back again. Just hopping on here real quick with some photos from an evening walk we took yesterday, after a long day of study. Swimming in the sea is always so magical. Spent today sleeping in, spring cleaning the whole house, changing bedsheets and…
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I associate the smell of woodfire with autumn giving way to winter, dark wet cobbled streets, treacherously slippy fallen leaves, damp socks, dim bike lights, painful chapped hands. This is the season of course that heralds Christmas, the turn of the year, and thus it felt so natural to me that it took a few seconds before it jarred against the reality of warm summer air and blue skies. I could smell wood-smoke on Christmas day
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It’s early morning before work and I’m writing again in the grey of the soft light. The feeling of writing: thoughts running through my fingers, the beat of the words, the shape and sensation of them, the joy of making something tangible out of something existing only in my mind, an exacting almost topographical pleasure.…
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On the eve of my three year anniversary in New Zealand, I wanted to pause for a moment to try write the words that I would have found comforting back in 2017, before I left.
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For the last week at work I have been providing cover for a service that operates largely outside the realm of my knowledge and experience. I don’t say that with any false modesty.
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I struggle with the seasons here still, in fact it is perhaps the one thing that triggers homesickness the most. I had not realised how much I lived my life rooted in weather and landscape until those things were turned on their head, quite literally inverted.
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Mad to Live 