Unplanned days ~ surprise!
Best storm we’ve had for a long time.
Crack of thunder
Bedroom lit up in a flash
Turmoil, vibration,wonderful.
People downtown comparing notes – dogs that couldn’t give a toss
Dogs that did
And for me
A,strange feeling of calmness
All night
A joy to be part of it
Water, lots of it, for a dry garden.
Next morning
Porridge
Which is oatmeal with mixed seeds and maple syrup!
It folds in half
I can tuck it in the back of my car
And follow my grandkids when the they go mountain biking.
Follow them for a while. Dangerous stuff mountain biking. For a grandpa.
Grandpas topple over easily enough without the help of tree roots, ruts in the path and the slippery bits.
Today, this morning, I set out early, to beat the crowds, the cyclists, the serious walkers ~ the dog walkers
7.30am. And I met the crowds, the cyclists, the serious walkers ~ the dog walkers. -all getting out early.
Summer time, a lively breeze, it was warm.
Very soon I’m out in the farm country. The cow cockies are out, they’ve been up for some time – tractors, mending fences, stroking a chin and staring at a drain that don’t drain. Always time for friendly wave.
There’s still plenty of life in the bike battery, but I’m running out of steam.
A two point turn. Wind is now in my favour
Homewards
Soon coffee
And one last look at the farm country
I’m looking from our Kopu Bridge
Looking at the original bridge, the only, still operational swing bridge in NZ.
A kids we bounced over that one lane bridge, on our way to a camping holiday in Coromandel.
Small car, family of six, summer optimism.
Seventy plus years later I’d be riding an E Bike, staring, dreaming, at a bridge built in 1928. I took this photo from our ‘new’ bridge, a graceful arch, that bounces as heavy trucks go by.
Happy wanderer
On a bike
No traffic threats, no traffic noise. A distant tractor rolling hay wrapped in green plastic. In my day it was a haystack ~ “Dont you go climbing over your uncle’s hay stack, he’ll have to rebuild it. Poor man he’s not getting any younger”
The older Uncle got, the more fun he was with us kids. He was a kid once, remembers the ‘kid’ things he used to do.
“We painted Boyo’s tail green once. Green things grow.”
But horsie’s tail stayed just the same.
Silence, space, once a railway, now a bike trail.
Crunch of tyre on track,
“Hi!” Cheery greeting from passing cyclist.
A stray, meaningful ‘Moo!’
I don’t speak Moo. Cows have got used to us.
Time to stare.
Last ride before Christmas.
It’s home, we all speak the same language, a reasonable climate, a small country – we don’t have to travel long distances.
If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?
Delicate, soft but those paws have claws.
The Cat’s not mine but is next door’s
‘NotMyCat’ yep, that’s her name
But “Come ‘ere!” And along she trots, just the same
I like to think the attraction’s me
But really, she likes the sun you see
Shady, rainy days, a gap
Sun comes out, she’s on my lap
The steps at the end of my street.
Saturday morning. Exercise!
Once neatly cleared by council
But for some time, forgotten
Thank you!
That dense
Very much alive
Spring green
~ do plants puff as they get higher?
To hope and hats, today we cling.
Ah, the wind, the joy of Spring!
Soon summer’s heat – you’ll hear a moan,
Just good to know ~ I’m not alone.
Over four hundreds years of experience
Average age of eighty
Five of us. Croaky, happy old mates.
“It’s our Grandpa Club,” I tell the kids
Each month we’d get into a tizz
Scratching for lost recipes
Kitchen timers that had gone on leave
Each month, well, a few days before, “What am I on this month? “
A mild panic, a healthy panic. It kept us active, together.
Five of us on Soup, Main, Dessert, Wine, or
“You’ve got this month off Chris, tell us more about you!”
An old Austin
In a hurry
South Africa
Stopped by a copy
“Hey, you’re the doctor that delivered our son!”
“I’m about to do the same for a woman thirty miles away.”
“You’d better be on your way then.”
An inside day.
I perched myself in my ‘local
A small and more intimate place
We know each other
Easy to chat, enjoy respectable sky larking
(One day I shall become a respectable grand father)
It’s a good place, the staff are chatty, and, predict what I’m going to order. And next door, through a convenient walkway is the book shop. A very desirable way of farewelling my pension.
Today the place is more crowded. Probably because the weather outside is ‘stink’ as the younger ones say.
At a large table is seated one of our ‘older’ couples. They do look friendly.
“Do you mind if I sit at this table – I promise I’ll behave.”
“Please do, you’re most welcome. I can’t promise ‘he’ will.”
She gesticulates at her husband alongside.
An English accent. Welcoming.
They downed tools ‘back home’ and to retire, moved here to the colonies, New Zealand.
“Love the smallness,
the easy-to-get-on-with people here.”
He was a civil engineer
I describe my teaching days
“Specialised in music, creative writing, drama. Great kids, great days.”
The coffee was good
The conversation a pick me up on a Windy and Blustifereous day
David in Pen and Pics