Christmas is the time to be with family, have a holiday, and go to the
beach. I went “across the ditch” to New Zealand where the weather is cooler and
less dramatically changeable. Last year the entire North Island was
drought-stricken…unusual. But when
I went north of Auckland to Whangarei, it had recovered its usual green. I
was driven through my grandmother’s country, and then through her grandmother’s
country, Kaukapakapa. My great-great, Flora McLeod, had been born in Nova Scotia but then sailed
to Waipu Cove with her family, to settle there.
I stayed with friends at Whangarei Heads. One day we climbed Mt. Manaia.
Old
volcano cones
ice-cream
of native bush
a
sprinkling of walkers
I walked on my native soil very aware that in another
era I would have been part of that clan. My uncle from that side of the family
had worked on the Marsden oil refinery opposite, as a fitter.
One day P. and I kayaked around the foreshore. Manaia! In Samoan it
means “beautiful, lovely”, and I used it a lot when I travelled to Western
Samoa years ago.
Seaweed
trails up
from
the emerald depths –
I
drift along
The water of Whangarei harbour is clear, clean and judging by the number
of shags who fish there, alive.
The shag-engineer
draws a straight
flight
just above the
waves
A group of these black and
white cormorants sat up in an ancient pohutakawa tree on the shoreline and
overhanging the water, but one appeared to swing in the breeze. Paddling closer
we saw that it was dead, and hanging by its neck from transparent fishing line.
I suppose when they dive down into the sea they sometimes encounter the
leftovers of clumsy human efforts to catch fish. Another secluded spot was alive with birds, oystercatchers
nesting on top of a rock that was surrounded by water, and another pohutakawa
dense with shags. They were quite unconcerned by another shag corpse, stuck to
its perch in their midst.
..............
I had some most beautiful swims in surf, in harbours, in clear water, in
murky water (are there sharks down
below?), in the morning, in the evening, at high tide, at
no-particular-tide, to a yacht, around a buoy, shoes on, bare feet,
don’t–put-your-feet-down, swam past weed, anchor-rope…saw the mist on the hills
around Kawhia harbour rise and the colours change, each time I turned my neck
to breathe.
…….
Pony club
the excluded
horse
gallops along the
fence
A senryu:
“House
for sale”
four
cars sleeping it off
in
the front yard
……….
Auckland
museum -
the
rain blots out my decades
overseas
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