A Sense of Place

There's nothing like going away from home to remind me of what is important in my life.

Friends are very important to me, which is why my youngest son and I went to Melbourne for nine days to visit our best friends. I was present at Geralyn's birth 19 years ago, and Jenny was present at my son's birth 18 years ago. They moved away when G was only three, but even though we have seen each other just twice a year or less, not only have Jenny and I remained friends, so also have Jeff and Geralyn retained an amazing connection. The internet, of course, makes things much easier than when I was his age and stuck with snail mail.

The first thing I was reminded of, was how much I really do love my husband. A lot of the time I find it easy to let Mac fall into the taken-for-granted category: being away reminded me that he has become integral a part of my life.

What I had really not realised was how much my physical environment affects me.

I need personal space: I need time and space where I can sit / blob / read / dance / sing without anyone around. I need the freedom to indulge my own silly little habits and rituals.

I need to connect to the natural world.

Even just nine days in an air conditioned, 14th floor, CBD apartment in Melbourne left me jittery, twitchy and disconnected.

Home again, I am relishing each breath of natural air: the smoky tang when the fire is burning; the sweet earthiness that rises from the soil when it rains; the scent of crushed nasturtiums as I walk back from feeding the chooks that washes away the smell of the hen house; the clean starched-sheet freshness of a frosty morning.

Despite cold, I stand outside, until my neck hurts and seizes up, looking up at the sky: the magnificence of a starry night or a country birthday bonfire far exceeds that of city lights.

It was fun visiting friends, exploring a little bit of Melbourne, but it is a very foreign place to me. Call me a country bumpkin - it's what I am, and what I am glad to be.

Spider's Web

spider's web
in the morning
sparkling with due
hungry for life

Life's Slipping By

Well, the grandbaby came, and is growing fast, surrounded by love. The wedding came and went, with all the anxiety behind us now, leaving behind memories of love.

Womad was a wonderful experience once again. It amazes me that each time I go it is a totally different experience, yet always joyous. This time I went with my two middle sons and their friends, and without my husband who didn't want to go this time. I was very nervous about that, feared I would spend most of the time alone - which I don't cope with very well - but the 'kids' (aged 17 - 20) included me all the time, gave no sign of wanting rid of me. In fact, if I wandered off on my own they would text me to tell me where they were and ask me to join them. I got to spend some time one on one with each of my two boys as well, which was wonderful, especially in the case of #3 who has moved to Wellington to live.


Just four weeks later, #3 was back up for a week for his 21st birthday party - how did he get so old? And now #4, my 'baby' just got his full driver's license and is two weeks away from turning 18!

#4 has been working full time, temporarily, for nearly four months, though he is now back to just casual work. It has been a lonely time for me after 27 years of always having my children around. Although I have a million things to do, I am finding it very difficult to adjust to having no one around. Living out in the country makes it harder in that I can't escape this isolation easily (especially since I let the van registration and WOF go till the last minute, and then discovered that the guy who does it for me is off work for several weeks after an operation!) On top of that, despite enjoying learning to dance, my pleasure was somewhat diminished by a young friend of #4 son saying how old women shouldn't be dancing, that it was horrible having to dance with people who can't move properly (he didn't have his own partner for the class and was assigned a partner about my age.) He hastened to (over) correct, saying he didn't mean me, but it did hit me hard in the guts. Am I being a foolish old woman to think I can learn to dance in my late fifties? Is it time to throw away the dancing shoes and settle for slippers?

(At least I had 'old women's fun' knitting and felting these slippers myself!)

I am reminded of some lines in my favourite poem when I was in my last year of school: T.S. Elliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" -

"I grow old...I grow old...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me."

But damn! I'm not ready just yet to give up on hearing the mermaids sing to me! Is it really too late to turn my face from the waiting dark earth, rather towards the sun?

Autumn

Autumn’s nearly done.
Fresh green’s showing
through the dried stalks.
Pumpkin vines
are withering away
from their plump,
green-grey fruit.
The last of the chestnuts
are gathered wearily.
The swan plants
have been stripped
down to their stems
and green monarch chrysalises
hang on the lemon tree,
slowly darkening.

My tongue presses against
the roof of my mouth.
The last handful of blueberries,
warmed to full sweetness
in the heat of the season,
taste of hot sun,
of summer swimming,
of the new baby,
of the newly weds,
of dancing under the stars
of singing and laughter.

Wedding

I'm only just really starting to feel like I have a little bit of energy again - and on Friday I'm off to Womad! The wedding of my second son, and the lead up to it was tiring. So much emotional energy involved in a wedding, but even more so when #3 son left at 6am the morning after the wedding to go and live in Wellington. Both of them were already living away from home, but somehow the fact that Steve is now married, and Simon 8 hours drive away instead of just 35 minutes, (as well as the fact that my 'baby' (17) is working full time at the moment) has somehow left me feeling slightly bereft.

But the wedding went well. The ceremony that Steve and Heidi put together was beautiful. They were married in the Taitua Arboretum, exactly three years since their first date - a walk in the arboretum. But I won't write lots about it - I'll just show some of pictures instead.

the groom's men: Ring Boy, brother Simon, friends Jarrath and James

wedding music was played by members of Steve's old recorder ensemble, including brother Jeff

Steve's older niece, my granddaughter, was the littlest bridesmaid
(his baby niece was a bit young for the job at just 9 days old!)
(thanks to the wonderful Jen for this photo)

nephew / grandson taking time out from just watching

Mac's and my family, those who were there
(thanks to the wonderful Jen for this photo too)

Burger Night

The boy's gone to the city tonight,

meeting his mates at Starbucks.
Then it's burgers and fries and
hanging out in main street.


We're eating out tonight too.
Burgers and kumera chips
from the Camp Store just
down past the ablution block,
near the skate board bowl.


Sitting on a rug looking out

past the fronds of flax pods,

and past the fishing boat
coming carefully over the bar
heading home for the night;

north along the sand dunes
of the wild west coast;
west over the black surfers waiting
for the last waves of the day;


south to the absurd fluffy pink
fine-day's-end clouds
outlined in liquid gold

by the last sliver of sun.

Eating out:

best table in the house.

Wedding creations

With S & H's wedding on Sunday, poetry has been forgotten, and I've been busy creating various other things. My granddaughter, Steve's niece, is to be a flower girl which, of course involves, apparently, having "a basket of petals to throw at people." So , as well as making her dress, I bought a basket, threaded bridesmaid dress scraps through it, and made a bag for the petals which is attached to the basket.

H & I have made flags with the surnames of all the grandparents, and I cut bamboo and attached the flags which will fly in the redwood circle at the arboretum during the ceremony - or in the hall I guess, if the weather continues with its high winds and rain.

Tonight I made a gluten free, vegan heart-shaped cake so the bride can have some wedding cake at her own wedding!

And today I also finished the wedding album I made for their photos:

I stamped the black cover paper with bronze and gold ink using the beautiful Indian stamp that S & H bought me last year from Trade Aid. Inset into the front cover is one of the invitations to their wedding.

There are beads sewn into the binding, and also on the front cover.

Sam, new granddaughter, b 15 February

Well, done, Greg and Claire - Sam was born at home before the midwife could get there!


Sam

Sam and me

Frayed Feather

The keruru has discarded
a green-blue feather.

It is tattered and frayed
and she will grow
fine new plumage
with which to fly.

The feather on my desk
shines like polished paua.
It no longer flies above the trees
instead helps my heart to soar.

Our love has past it's use by date.
It has become burdensome
for both of us, I think.

I have grown new feathers
and need to find places
you haven't even dreamed.

I will hold our memories
in my heart: spirit feathers
that will help me fly.



*keruru = NZ native wood pigeon
*paua = NZ abalone

PS - for those who wondered - this poem is about my relationship with my mother, not my husband!

Catherine Jane b 14 February 1949

My sister would have been 59 today.
Every Valentine's Day my mother grieved.

I don't know when she died.
My mother never mentioned that,
but it was before I was born.

My mother's little brother
died in the war
somewhere in France, I think,
but she didn't speak of it.

My mother's twin sister
died when they were 10.
Polio took one,
left the other
without physical trace.

So much grieving
can drain love away.
Instead of a cradle
she wrapped me tight in muslin
and put me in the
too hard basket.

The Rain Came Yesterday

The bush smells differently today
since the rain came.
The crickets rasp their continuous song
almost drowning out the birds.
The earth stays beneath my feet
instead of rising as dust.

The epiphytic kowharawhara
which fell in last winter's winds
from the rimu by the stream
and took root at its base
smiles its pale custard-coloured
damp flowers at the world.

An indefinable, almost edible breeze
tempts me to stay.



Kowharawhara = astelia solandri
rimu = dacrydium cupressinum

Day 10

Missed another day! But still writing more than I have in ages, so worth it!