biblioburro – the donkey library (source)
biblioburro – the donkey library (source)
this might be my new favourite word: petrichor. it even sounds delicious as i roll the syllables around on my tongue.
it’s been pretty dry around here with islanders paying for tankerloads of water up until a week or so ago.
last week, a phone call from a friend (who is coming to do a few repairs to our new place) had me buying a tarpaulin + rope and covering up one of our skylights. it’s not super-leaky, but there is water getting in somewhere and we’d rather it didn’t! hopefully he gets time this week to come and fix it up before we get any more rain..
the following morning saw us out in the rain tying it down more securely as the wind got up underneath it and moved it around.
we’ve had so much water our tanks are overflowing but there’s still cracks in the ground from a dry summer.
out in the wild weather, another hardy fellow and i exchange soggy grins …
“lovely isn’t it?” he says.
“absolutely amazing” is my reply.
it’s intermittent over the easter weekend – the sun seems to come out just as we are off out to do something, then the rain starts again as we move indoors and settle on the sofa with a book, a blanket and a warm cup of tea.
i do so love the sound and smell of rain.
If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, “thank you,” that would suffice.
- Eckhart Tolle
+ started by watching the secret life of walter mitty. one of the best movies I’ve seen in a long time
+ early morning coffee and ringawera hot cross buns in bed
+ then a surprise birthday breakfast for a friend at charlie farleys
+ before collecting C&D from the ferry… who’ve come to stay in our caravan for the long weekend
+ lunch in the sun at mudbrick bistro
+ easy dinner and conversation
+ Saturday morning picnic on our bed, discussing yurts and recipes for crickets
+ a walk to the Ostend market
+ then a visit to a pop-up shop
+ picking up N&M from the ferry
+ platter-style lunch and an afternoon of talking and laughing on the deck
+ an hilarious, and highly explosive, experiment involving a soda stream and a bottle of chardonnay
+ dancing to sola rosa
+ faux flamenco with D and a challenge to learn it properly before the next time we meet
+ sunday morning lie in
+ reubens for breakfast with home-made sauerkraut
+ staring out at the rain
+ companionable silences
+ the hum of the dryer, the fridge, the oven
+ and an emulsion lift demonstration for C
+ lying in the sun on the deck watching the clouds float by
+ before retreating inside when the rain started again
+ D showing me how to separate honey from wax
+ marinating oyster mushrooms
+ trying a recipe from kinfolk table
+ chicken tacos (loving Nic’s tacos) for dinner
+ then all four of us piling on the sofa to watch a movie
+ brunch at the oyster inn before dropping C&D at the ferry
+ slow-cooked lamb for dinner
looking out into the rain this morning
making | loads of garlic preserved in olive oil + garlic, coriander & chilli flavoured olive oil + pickled garlic + pickled mushrooms + dukkah
buying | locally caught fish + locally baked bread + locally roasted coffee
submitting | photos for the next prompt over at words to shoot by
resurrecting | my own sourdough mother so i can make more of my own loaves
planting | habanero seeds collected from our own plant + pomegranate seeds from a fruit off a friend’s tree
wondering | how quickly we can get a new water tank installed – we have two medium-sized ones in use and they’re both full, so all the rain we’re currently getting is causing them to overflow. as much as a long, hot shower would be, all i can think about is trying to save more of it for when the dry weather comes back around
(written on may 17, year unknown)
on my desk is a small stress ball, and
my left hand kneads at it while
i look out at the 45 degree rain and
frantic movements of window wipers.
i am thinking of
your declaration of friendship and
both the pain and the joy of that gift.
about how i feel i know you so well and yet
don’t know you at all. how
the darker side of me clutches at a fear
i am smothering you and thinks, irritated,
that it sometimes feels like just
however the softer side of me
that i feel closer to you
than any one other friend
i’ve ever known.
you wear me out
you lift me up
i am afraid of
- not keeping up with you
- not matching your aspirations.
i know there is nothing to do
no-one to be,
you make me a better person, and
a thousand other clichés.
i look forward to continuing to be
april is NaPoWriMo (national poetry writing month) and I really like what Catherine has written about what she sees as problems surrounding this concept.
+ full. and exciting. and exhausting.
+ one that started early on friday with a visit to our new home by a sister and brother-in-law visiting from australia
+ a swim at palm beach with my sister
+ lunch at mudbrick vineyard for my brother-in-laws birthday
+ placing an order for locally made hot cross buns to collect pre-easter weekend
+ buying sola rosa tickets for easter weekends’s jazz festival
+ platter-style supper accompanied by local wine
+ locally made vanilla and salted caramel gelatos from the island gelato company
+ visiting the waiheke island roosters, then
+ goldie vineyard (our closest winery) for a glass of 2013 Syrah (their best vintage yet) bottled just over a week ago. we sat under an ancient pōhutukawa overlooking the bay enjoying the wine and the scenery
+ handsome sandwiches on fresh, locally made ciabatta
+ alfresco wine and cheese with a friend
+ followed by fish tacos, made with locally caught snapper from a shop on the island, topped with home-made avocado mousse & pineapple salsa
+ french toast with bacon & maple syrup as our sunday breakfast treat
+ more clearing, unpacking, sorting, tidying
+ cleaning the caravan in readiness for friends visiting next weekend
+ and vacuaming
+ wine and a platter for two at the man o’war vineyard in the bay of the same name
+ soft nougat filled with pistachio & turkish delight, found at a roadside stall on the way home from lunch
+ dreams and schemes
+ staring out into the trees and watching/listening to the local bird life
+ our first full weekend in our new home. me and my man agreeing that it doesn’t suck here. at all
there were two of these beautiful big birds chasing each other around our garden a couple of mornings ago, and then again yesterday. these visitors are welcome, anytime!
There’s no town supply water here – it’s all rainwater collection from the guttering into tanks. We have two medium-sized ones and I’m interested in how much we use, as well as ways we can re-use it and reduce water wastage. Empty tanks with no rain means having water delivered at a very hefty price.
Yesterday I had a quick, navy-style shower with the plug in the bath to see how much water I used. There was enough to fill the basin and jug pictured above and probably another two jugfuls that I didn’t save as I was having trouble scooping it all up. Still, that’s enough water to generously hydrate all the plants on our front deck.
I also washed the dishes in that same basin – just half full (but not with the same water!). The dish water was enough to water the herbs outside our back door.
Add the laundry water to our reusable collection and there’ll be enough for our little vege garden too.
It will definitely be worth us using water twice and investigating a more labour-saving solution longer term.
* We use environmentally friendly soaps, dish wash and laundry liquids, so it’s safe to pour all our grey water on the garden. It may even help eliminate some garden pests!
It’s not the coffee that unfurls our minds and spirits, but the meaningful conversation that accompanies it.
It’s not the coffee that lifts our eyes and awakens our bodies, but the time we take to make it.
And it’s not the coffee that prepares us for the day, but the encouraging words from those we love.
― Sarah Lang, from Kinfolk vol. 5
after a wee break, words to shoot by is back.
we start with coffee … the perfect return.
i am always delighted by the interpretations of each prompt and this one is no exception.
Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes. — Carl Jung
Error: Twitter did not respond. Please wait a few minutes and refresh this page.
Copyright © 2014 leonie wise