Autumn

I lay there on the soft grass and looked through the branches of a not too mighty Oak at the clear cloudless sky above. Leaves at the furthest end of the branches were just beginning to turn. Golds, reds and browns, all heralding the coming of autumn. The neighboring Pohutukawa, an evergreen, had lost all of its summer blossoms and was now a tight mat of succulent dark green leaves, like an animal taking on body mass to nourish it over the coming winter months.

During the past seven years, the sharp contrasts of the Northern hemisphere seasons have become, for me, a calendar. Four distinct twelve week cycles that, despite global warming are a constant reminder that we are part of a greater mystery. and I shall miss them.

Unaware of my reminiscences, baby sat there in the pram, gooing and enjoying the late afternoon warmth. Children are so uncomplicated.

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A sign of the times?

It hung there,far above my head. A thin brush stroke of white extending unbroken in the still Wellington sky from as far as the eye could see in either direction. It was only the vapor stream of a commercial jet, but it's such a rare sight here in Wellington as thick moving cloud and blustery winds (the normal default setting for a NZ sky) usually disburse them the instant they form. It was a rare sight, and I watched it hang there, seemingly forever.
Friends who are obviously more attentive than I told me that they too had noticed the phenomena regularly over the last 6-8 weeks of clear breathless weather we have been enjoying thanks to Global Warming: and I remembered the unseasonably cold rainy days of our summer Christmas a mere 12 weeks ago. Writing from Macedonia today, missionary friends there told of their first ever snow-less winter which has seen the level of beautiful lake Ohrid drop by more than a meter, cutting drastically that countries hydro power generation capabilities. Another of natures calling card condemning George W's (and Australia's) refusal to ratify the Kyoto Protocol. At one level I must say I am enjoying our extraordinarily late summer, but at the same time I despair at the legacy we are leaving to Sujin and her generation.

To borrow a line from a Dylan song,"when will the ever learn. . . .when will they e-ver learn?"

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Morning came, the second day

And on the second day, man toiled in the garden. . . .again!
Another extraordinary autumn day. Clear skies, no wind and remarkable warm so the day began with a homage to the water blaster and a fierce attack on the fences (covered in mold), under the eves and all the exterior walls of the house. North, south, east and west, which ever way you look,the house is pristine and I'm ahead of my target to be free of all outdoor jobs by the end of the week. There is still the 'monster' rose to thrash into shape and some pruning and transplanting in the front garden, but all that can wait till winter and a long weekend.
Exhausted but board, I treated my self to another dose of Hugh Grant in Music & Lyrics. It wasn't the same as seeing it with the Pixie - but I enjoyed it. As did the other three people in the theater!

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In the begining

God might very well have created the world, and all that dwelt there in, in a mere seven days but simply getting the house in shape convinces me that He and I are not in the same league!
Since Anthea left just under a month ago I've spent most of most of my days on the wrong end of a paint brush. However, the decking is now mould free, dirt free and stained with a preservative oil. The windows have been thoroughly sanded, scraped primed, under and top coated and everything is in order for the winter. Next week I begin my one on one training as 'Supa Gran'caring for Su-Jin in tandum with Ciara before my solo debut when she returns to work on Monday 2nd April.
I'm happy (though feeling very dis connected with Anthea so far away) and enjoying the extraordinary bout of good (fine and calm) weather we have had for the last 7 weeks. Perhaps climate change is not all bad!

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