1 min read

11 . 9

11 . 9

NZ has a bookstore that is 110 years old this year. How did I not know this until today.

Do I ask enough questions. Am I curious enough?

I romanticise picnics … rugs, wicker baskets heaving with bread cheese and wine. A book tucked into a corner for reading in the arms of a pohutukawa tree. Our picnics never look like this, they are usually rushed – like we have somewhere more important to be – or never happen at all. This summer I intend to change that, even if it means picnics by myself. I believe some days should be wasted on idle pursuits such as these.

There are five flowers in pots on the deck waiting to be planted in the garden. I haven’t had much luck with flowers here, but these seem quite hardy. Our whole garden is one big experiment. I remain hopeful.