The flowers

Our first accommodation with the bride's family in Sanur was a large Balinese style villa that easily slept 12 of us.  It sat in spacious grounds with lush, colourful trees and shrubs, a long way back from a service alley that was always busy with cars and bikes - and friendly foot traffic. 

 

The service alley

 

 

There was a small pond to be negotiated which proved something of a challenge for me as I've had a bit of vertigo lately and looking down can send me into a spin.  But I found if I stood still for a few minutes then looked down and waited a tic or two before looking up again I was fine. (I'm not too old to learn new tricks!)

 

The lady of the pond

Bali

A hint of winter crept into the air here at home while I was away in Bali and, oh, how I would have appreciated just a touch of it while I was there.  

Along with learning a lot about growing rice, I learned that humidity changes the perceived heat, that air loaded with water prevents our body's sweat from functioning and it clogs the pores of our skin.  The more humidity increases, the less our body sweats.   When there is no sweating, there is simply no cooling system for our body to rely on, so we quickly overheat.  I didn't know that.  I do know I often felt overheated and I started to suspect that they measured temperature differently to us here in NZ.  31°C (87°F) felt more like 41°C (105°F).

I wonder if the humidity has anything to do with the way all the trees and flowers I recognised grew taller but sparser than here at home.  Like these Bird of Paradise which would have been 8 feet high but allowed light in amongst the leaves.

I will post more in the coming days.  For now, I am recovering from a severe dose of Bali Belly.  I have no idea how I got it, I was super careful around what I ate and drank.  I avoided ice in all drinks until the night before I came home when a cocktail in a very popular restaurant came with a large ball of ice. I was told Indonesia now has a national standard for edible ice, and food sanitation guidance requires ice used with food and drinks to be made from water that meets drinking water standards. There is also a formal hygiene sanitation framework for restaurants.  

I was in Bali for my grandson's wedding and we stayed the first few days with the bride's family in Sanur.  It was a lovely time of two families coming together.  One of the bride's sisters had been in Bali for a week and was recovering from the same thing.  It must be hard to avoid for those of us who come from countries with high sanitation standards and few opportunities to develop resistance to those bugs.

 The groom relaxing with two sleeps to go before the big day.

A funeral and football

It's not every day I get to attend a funeral and watch a game of rugby on the same day.

Once upon a time I rarely saw children at a funeral but I will remember this funeral for a long time because of the children who were there.  They were the grandchildren and children of the nieces and nephews of Liz who was being farewelled.  Honestly, I can't remember ever seeing so many beautiful children in the one place.  Ever!  All  beautifully dressed and extremely well behaved.  I couldn't take my eyes off them.  It was just as well I'd left my phone at home or I may not have been able to resist taking photos of them.  I think that would have been quite bad form.

The rugby game was the first of this season and also the wedding day of last season's team captain.  One of those "best laid plans for men and mice" situations.  The day had been chosen to fit in with the farming calendar and the rugby calendar.  Normally the rugby season starts a little later in the year but for some unknown reason, I think it may be because this year there are a couple more teams in the comp than usual, starting date was brought forward. So the team was short of eight of their usual players (guests at the wedding) and included six young men having their first game of senior rugby.  My son coaches the team and he was also very involved with the wedding as the groom and his partner are sharemilkers on his farm.  Heather, his wife was also catering for the wedding.

I only knew one of the young men making their seniors debut but felt immensely proud of them all.  They had a good win.  I have just seen the team for this weekend's game and was thrilled to note at least three of them are included again this week.   Maybe one or two more as there are a couple of names I don't recognise.  I really enjoy the start of the season, learning who the new players are. And remembering the older hands.  It's a bit alarming how quickly I can forget a player's name if they aren't around for a while.

 I'd never make a sports photographer.  I tend to get totally engrossed in what's happening in front of me and put the camera down to have a good look.

I am now totally settled in my new abode.  During the week the last of my "must dos" happened.  There was an overgrown and messy bird of paradise plant right outside my front door which blocked my view of the front lawn and trees.  One of the village residents came with his trusty tractor, dug it out and took it away.

 

I'll get a photo of the view without it when it's not quite as bleak as it is today.  Winter must be on its way.

 It's been a long time since I posted any photos from the farm.  I am perfectly happy living here in the village but I sure do miss the farm and the forest.  I'm sure C and C won't mind me sharing a couple of photos from their wedding.  I was so happy when I heard they were getting married on the farm.  It's like a second home to the groom who first came to work on the farm when he was 16, I think he must be around 30 now.  He's been like one of the family.  They chose a paddock between the lake and the creek.

 

After the storm

It wasn't much of a storm here although there was a bit of local flooding but we were the lucky ones .  Those who live further north really felt it.  

However, we did have a lot of wind and rain.  Enough to deepen my appreciation for the sunshine today.  I thought it would be nice to have my morning coffee sitting on my seat under the trees but the seat is still too wet so I sat my coffee on it while I wandered around enjoying the sunshine peeking through the trees.

  

 

Trees again

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

These are two lines from the poem I shared a few days ago and below are photos of "my" trees lifting their leafy arms to the sky.  I'm calling them my trees because to just call them "the" trees doesn't do them justice.  I honestly believe no-one can own a native tree that has chosen to grow in its natural environment.  And I give thanks to the trustees of this village who made the decision to retain this area of native bush when they were developing the area.   

I've been waiting for that blue sky.

  

The trees dwarf my little car and the village van.  

This tree is my nearest neighbour.  When I first see it in the morning, the trunk is bathed in sunlight,  it wears dappled light during the day until finally it is in full shade.  Even when the sun isn't shining it is beautiful, it has lovely patterned bark.  I think it's a Taraire but am not sure.  My plant ID app doesn't recognise it.

Trees

I remember back in my schooldays the advise given about writing an essay was to, "Just start.  You can come back later to write the introduction."  So, rather than sit here and stare at a blank screen, I'll just start.

I've been reminiscing about the importance of trees in my life.  I suppose my love for them started with one of my earliest memories, going along the banks of a creek, carried on my grandfather's shoulders so I could reach up to touch the leaves of the trees.  Learning the names of the trees and the birds that made their homes in them.

Every now and then a line or two of a poem we were taught at school will come back to me, on rare occasions a whole poem.  One I think of often is Trees by Alfred Joyce Kilmer.

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

My thoughts are a bit scrambled.  In a round about way I'm trying to explain why at the tender age of 81 I made the decision to move from a lovely little unit to another in the village, not as desirable in many ways, but which looks out at trees.  A move of 100 metres takes as much packing and unpacking as a move across the ocean.  I had a great team of helpers, couldn't ask for better, but I was aware that we are all senior citizens (except my son and daughter who did the heavy lifting) and old bodies don't take too kindly to heavy work,  The move was made a week ago and my body has nearly recovered but even on the days when every muscle ached, I looked out at those trees and couldn't (and still can't) get the smile off my face.

I feel a contentment I haven't felt since leaving the farm and our neighbour the Tangihua Forest.

It's rained every day since moving day but this morning there was a short burst of sunshine and I shot off a few photos of the native bush area where I have placed my old wooden bench seat. 

  

I'll wait for the sunshine to return to try to capture just some of the beauty of my new surroundings.  Meanwhile I still have some unpacking to do. 

Tractors and bikes

One tree Point, where both my oldest son and oldest daughter live as near neighbours to each other, is more known for its boats than its tractors or motorbikes. It's a coastal community located on the South Head of the Whangarei Harbour.    My son's wife and daughter operate a local cafe/restaurant.

This weekend there was an annual tractor drive, I don't know where they came from or where they went to but the drivers parked up for coffee at the family cafe.

       

 

They knew how to park for the best effect. 

  

 

Motor bike riders park neatly, too. 

One handed post

 Time is just whizzing by.  It's been over two weeks since my son and his little family returned to Brasil.

I've recovered from the sadness I always feel when they go, try to focus on the happy times we had together.  

 

                            Bernie introducing Emilia to a herd of dairy cows.

In the past couple of weeks I've had another birthday and developed a hand injury, so I am learning quickly how to use my left hand more often.  I was half way through making cucumber pickles one day when I discovered I couldn't take the top off the vinegar bottle.  Thank heavens my neighbour had to try a few times before he succeeded, so I didn't feel too foolish in asking for help.  I even had to ask someone else to open a bottle of wine for me.  Things must be serious!

I had a lovely birthday dinner celebration with one son, one daughter, one dil, 3 grand-daughters and the boyfriend of one of them, and one great-granddaughter.  Males are in short supply in my family.

At the moment we are enjoying a few fine days, a nice change after so many wet days.  Lots of rain and warm weather make for prolific vegetable gardens, lush lawns and an abundance of flowers.

At this time of year I enjoy the view from my lounge room.  I enjoy it all year round actually but the hydrangea hedge adds to my pleasure.  It's past it's best but not ready for pruning just yet.  

 My pot of colour just outside the door gives me a lift every time I see it.

 

Pouto

 

It's been 6 years since my most recent visit to Pouto and 17 years since I went with a group of younger family members.  There were a couple of visits between those two.  My visits are infrequent enough for me to forget between visits how beautiful the place is.  Then it smacks me in the face all over again.  I doubt I will ever go there and not be stunned and captivated by its charm. 

The Pouto Peninsula is itself a huge mound of sand. Features include huge dunes, fresh water lakes and valleys. The scenery changes regularly as the wind reshapes the dunes.

This time there were 9 adults including 2 grandchildren and 3 little girls, aged 5, 7 and 9.  We stayed in a relative's farm house, distant in lineage but close in bonds.  (The cousin, that is.)  While there we enjoyed long relaxed gatherings with other local family members.  

We spent our days at the beach or inner harbour bays and, of course, had an adventure going along the beach to see the lighthouse.  It's always an adventure, as soon as you turn the corner at the end of the road, onto the beach the landscape is other worldly with the massive dunes on one side and the Tasman Sea on the other.  A remote wilderness of sand, sea and sky.  

The beach can be accessed, with care, at low tide by four wheel drive vehicles.  I was spoilt to be whizzed along the beach (at great speed I might add) by cousin Simon in what I can only describe as a dune buggy.  Goodness knows what it's really called.  I had to be helped into and out of it but in between I felt like a young free spirit.  I would not have been capable of the climb up the dune to the lighthouse.  

 

This three story wooden lighthouse was built in 1884, as a navigational beacon for ships entering the Kaipara Harbour. Not only is the Kaipara New Zealand’s largest, it's the most difficult to sail into. The entrance is guarded by a treacherous sand bar. The flashing lamp was visible for 18 nautical miles. Ships stopped using this harbour in the 1950s and the structure fell into disrepair, but it has now been restored by Heritage New Zealand as an historic landmark. 

This next photo is from 17 years ago.  That same sand dune is now covered in t tree.  Mother Nature  is in charge out here.  

After this trip I have decided I definitely must have a new camera or a new phone with a good camera.  I've fallen out of love with my current camera, it's not the camera's fault, I just can't read any of the settings.  And I do need a new phone.  I so wish I could share this image with you so you could see what I saw.  We were sitting on top of a sand dune with a sea of t tree below us, then more dunes, a lake, Simon's farmland and then the harbour in the background.

 

In another direction the South Head of the harbour is clearly visible about 6 kms across the harbour.  It looked quite different from my last visit, much more sand.

Can't blame the camera for no photos of the quiet waters of a little bay accessed through Simon's land, where we took the little girls for a safe swim away from the beach waves.  I  became engrossed in what looked like driftwood - which has not yet drifted anywhere.  It's t tree that grows along the shore that has succumbed to old age and the battering of many storms.

The Parrot Place

When I first heard of the Parrot Place I thought that was just a description of where we were going to visit with friends to celebrate our young friend, Layla's 7th birthday. I like it when the place name says it all.  

The Parrot Place is a bird display and breeding centre in Kerikeri, about a 1.5 hour drive from here. There are approx 300 birds from all over the world.  Some birds are in cages with little plaques telling the visitors all about that particular bird, others are flying free, quite tame and will sit on visitors heads or shoulders and like to be hand-fed. Staff are on hand to warn you about the birds who like to peck at ear-rings. The whole place is spotlessly clean. Little doves wandering around on the ground take care of any dropped seeds, nuts, etc. 

 Emilia was a little reluctant at first but soon got the knack of feeding the quieter birds.

I took a liking to this pair, who were hiding around a corner out of sight of most of the visitors. I thought they looked all "peopled" out.  One reluctantly hopped onto my outstretched hand for a few seconds before returning to its mate in the corner.

                                        The cages are set amongst lovely subtropical gardens.