Bluebells

At least I think they are bluebells.

Last time Leone was here weeding my garden we wondered what some little shoots were, thought about pulling them out thinking they were weeds but decided to wait and see.

This is my third spring here and I haven't had them before so they have made their own way into my garden to brighten my days.  Thank you, whichever neighbour planted them in the first place.  I hope they are flourishing in your garden, too.

 A comment yesterday by Margaret reminded me about the legend of Mt Taranaki.

In Māori legend, Taranaki is a mountain being that lived peacefully for many centuries in the centre of New Zealand's North Island with three other mountains, Tongariro, Ngauruhoe and Ruapehu.

Nearby stood Mount Pihanga. Covered in a cloak of deep green forest she presented a stunning sight and all the mountain gods were in love with her.

Taranaki dared to make advances to Pihanga and was reproached by Tongariro and a mighty battle ensued between them. The earth shook and the sky became dark as the mountains belched forth their anger. When the battle ended the lovely Pihanga stood close by Tongariro's side. Taranaki, wild with grief and jealously, angrily wrenched his roots from the ground and left the other mountains.

Weeping, he plunged towards the setting sun, gouging out a deep wide trench. When he reached the sea he turned north and stumbled up the coast. As he slept that night the Pouakai Ranges snared and trapped Taranaki in the place he now rests.

The next day a stream of clear water sprang from the side of Tongariro. It flowed down the deep scar Taranaki had left on his journey to the coast to form the Whanganui River.

There are those who say that Taranaki is silently brooding and will one day try to return inland again to fight Tongariro. Consequently many Māori were wary of living in the area between the mountains.

 

Love that legend and personally think little Mount Pihanga needed her head read, she should have just run off with Taranaki, he was much more handsome anyway, rather than causing all that trouble.  Then again, maybe she enjoyed the attention.

Back to some warmth

If it weren't so cold in winter, I'd like to live in or near New Plymouth in Taranaki.  I visit my daughter and her family there often and never tire of the place.

Of all Taranaki's attractive features, Mt Taranaki takes pride of place and he was out in all his glory the day I arrived for this visit.  I'm lucky to have an obliging daughter who doesn't mind stopping the car on the way to her place for me to get a photo.  Not everyone, of course, gets that view on their way home but it is one of the reasons she and her husband wanted to build their home where they did. 

New Plymouth is proud of its art galleries and picturesque parks.  I had lunch with an old work mate one day last week in Pukekura Park which covers 52ha (128 acres) right in the heart of the city. 

In 2021 New Plymouth was awarded the most liveable city (for a population between 75,000-150,000) by the International Awards for Liveable Communities, an award they also received in 2008.  I'm not a natural city person, I don't like crowds but I do love New Plymouth.

I couldn't count the number of photos I've taken of Mt Taranaki in the years my daughter has lived there. 

From my bedroom window the mountain is out of sight behind the trees on the left of the shot below but I have a clear view of the mountain ranges.  I like to draw the curtains as soon as I wake and lay in bed looking at the many moods of the ranges.  Believe me, it has many moods.  In this shot the clouds have taken possession of the hightest peaks.

 

At other times the clouds take over everything.  That's when I shiver and stay in bed a little longer.  

There was a fresh dump on snow on mountain while I was there.  I was very late getting out of bed that morning.

Right now I'm happy to be home in the north warming up a bit, enjoying the colours of spring.

Piano practise

I wonder ...

What will today's seven year olds remember of this historic day?  This morning my eleven year old grandson, a very bright boy, looked a little lost when he heard his father and I talking about the death of the queen.  We elaborated the Queen of England had died.  He didn't look any the wiser.  A reminder of how much times have changed.  I'm looking forward to hearing from him what impact that news had on today's lessons. 

This aged person (I nearly called myself an aged queen but resisted) recalls so clearly walking to school and hearing the girl next door playing God Save the King, slowly and solemnly on the piano.  Usually Angela would be practising the piano when I walked past their house, so I was accustomed to hearing music.  But this was so unusual, such a change from the usual tunes, and we had been drilled to stand to attention when we heard what was then our national anthem, that I stopped and stood tall, listening, staring towards the open window of the Carroll home.  The piano stood beside a window on the front of the house.  Someone came out the front door and told me the King had died.  

I can't remember who it was that gave me the news.  Probably Mary who was my age, heading off to school as I was.  But I can remember being confused, not knowing what I should do, what was the appropriate behaviour.

No doubt in the future I will remember just as clearly listening to the midnight news in bed last night, hearing that the royal family was gathering at Balmoral and then hearing the sad news in bed this morning.  That makes it easy, doesn't it?  If anyone asks, in the future, where were you when ... my explanation will be simple...

It's just dawned on me that when the deaths of the great/famous have interrupted my mundane life I've heard the news in different places.  Never twice in the same place.  John F Kennedy - on holiday in Maroochydore, a boyfriend who had walked the shops to pick up some milk came back with the news (The boyfriend is long forgotten - Ivan someone), in Mt Isa, North West Queensland on the radio while preparing dinner (Martin Luther King), I was breastfeeding the daughter I am now visiting when I saw on the TV News that Elvis Presley had died, doing the ironing on a Sunday afternoon in Proserpine, North Queensland (Princess Diana) and now in bed in Taranaki.

RIP Queen Elizabeth