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Saturday 5 September 2015

Taniwha & the Daffodils

Every spring, just a half hours drive from home, (& a wee bit more) the Mabin family open their farm to the public for the season of the daffodil. 
 All through September, through every daylight hour there is, 
 people come in dribbles & droves, to pick bucket upon bucket of glorious, sunshiney daffodils.
 A turbulent month, it may be sunny or cold & windy,
 yet the magic is always the same.

 Waterways & walkways, 
 the supremely rare & unusual,
 the kind & familiar;
 tranquil & smooth
 rippling &
 peaceful

 ...but don't get in the way!
Snowflakes line pathways of grass green.
 Everywhere you turn there is more to pick
 sort & admire.


 Friends come
 & friends go
 & the beauty of the place drenches each soul,




 Always a pleasure..

  most especially the joy of the daffodils that herald spring with golden fanfare.

 They don't last a great while
 but their beauty is deeply admired, until next time & a new spring comes around once more.

Thursday 3 September 2015

Bewitched by Bluebells

Growing up in the foothills of Havelock North has left me with indelible memories of the magic of springtime. The alluring scent of the early prunus blossom trees called to me, as I made my way down past St Luke's Church & in to the village after school. I would always stop & pick a small sprig of pink frothy blossom & admire it until it wilted. The memory of the very first whiff of jasmine, daphne, grape hyacinths, freesias & jonquils come late winter/ early spring, has remained with me through the decades & befriends me just as surely now, as way back then.
 The arrival of the spring bulbs was always a delight to me & I learnt many of their names while still at primary school. I adored the riot of colour in the spraxia display & was endlessly fascinated by the strange, slim green flower & name of the ixias. The scent of hyacinths would send me in to raptures & I would sniff the little sprigs of wintersweet so long & so hard they almost disappeared up my nose. Funny thing is, I don't ever recall seeing a bluebell.
For the first four decades of my life I had no idea that Bluebell Woods in England had been enchanting walkers, wanderers & lovers for centuries.
Then...one day I found this old picture & so began my love affair with bluebells.
I will never plant enough of them or see enough of them in my lifetime.
To walk in woods carpeted with fragrant blue magic is a my unwavering aspiration.
To be immersed in blue as far as the eye can see...
leads me to romantic notions of pausing in the midst of such splendour; to drink in the beauty & fragrance of such a miracle. Seeing this scene in the movie Bright Star utterly overwhelmed my senses for days.
I do not know of any place in New Zealand where the woods or wild places are awash with blue carpets in spring, but I do know where an oak grove grows...out in the foothills in Havelock North near Keirunga Gardens. One autumn, not so long ago we discovered precociously blossoming trees,
tuis in ecstasy,
& highly premature jonquils in flower.
Yet, wander down the path & in to the valley & we found autumn quite clearly in command.
The light so beautiful..
joy sprang forth
bubbling in to awe & gratitude.
A special & significant place. A place to return to often.
A tiny seed-a dream, was unwittingly planted at this time.