Jane's Journal 2010
.... and yes, there's more!
Don't miss the Adventures of Jane in 2007, 2008, 2009, 2011 and 2012
On this page:
December 2010
The pohutukawas are coming out
November 2010
The most gorgeous Labour Day ever
October 2010
A crashing great ride and a high hat
September 2010
Is it Spring yet?
July 2010
Mid-winter Blues
May 2010
The Trip to Rawene
April 2010
Winter is on the way ...
A trip to the East Cape
December 2009 - January 2010
It's summertime!
The pohutukawas are coming out ...
My friend Lesley says that pohutukawa trees are all individuals. They bloom in their own time, when they are ready.
I see that my brave little pohutukawa down the end of our beach here is bursting forth with the most joyous, deep red blossoms this year. Have I told you the story of my little tree? Bear with me ...
When I was having my chemotherapy treatments for breast cancer in January 2002, I walked on the beach as often as I could. I remember how the heat from the day's treatment would come out of the top of my head in waves. I felt like one of those electric bar heaters.
Well, on my walk one day I got down to the end of the beach to visit my small pohutukawa there. Earlier, it had been hit by a car that had lost control coming down the steep and narrow hill road (there is a barrier fence there now to protect it!). Its trunk was badly damaged but it was slowly rallying. On this particular day, I saw that someone had lit a beach bonfire beneath it. Its little leaves and limbs were badly scorched and I stood there, gazing at it, thinking, "I feel just like that my tree - all dried up and burned up."
I thought, "If the tree can get through this, then I can get through chemo."
As that summer progressed, I didn't get to the beach so often but when I did, I'd go down to look at my tree. Gradually the new leaves were coming out, the bark was growing over the injury, things were going along OK - and so was I.
And now, by golly, my little tree isn't that little any more. It is quite tall and each summer it seems to produce even more vibrant and beautiful blooms at Christmas-time. So we are both thriving and flourishing.
I walked down to the beach yesterday after a day or two of good, soaking rain - just what we've needed as it has been very dry. I found a dry rock and sat up under my tree to admire the red blooms - and to have a short conversation, as we do together.
The last three weeks have been so full of sadness. Feelings of loss have been so deep. I've done my best to find joy in the remembering of my Mom's life but it's not easy. I just miss her so much. I know that life will find direction again, things will progress but for now, sitting under my tree and confiding a few truths, feelings and griefs is OK and 'good therapy.'
We're looking forward to a real ripper of a summer here. Already it seems to be far warmer than it should be at this time of year. I've been out kayaking and will be swimming very soon. We've already broken out the champagne a couple of times and of course the Mosquito Bar will be fully operational within a few days.
It'll be that kind of summer. Swimming, walking, sitting under trees, raising a few G and Ts to Mom, reading good books ... and enjoying the company of friends.
The most gorgeous Labour Day ever
Over here in New Zealand we have our Labour Day long weekend near the end of October. Monday 25 October was a holiday.
Usually the weather is unpredictable at best ...so imagine everyone's complete surprise when we had three days of absolutely drop-dead gorgeous weather: warm, sunny, little or no wind, not-a-cloud-in-the-sky type days from morning 'til night. It was special indeed.
People were swimming at our beach, everyone was out in their boats. I spent almost the entire three-day weekend here at home, visiting with friends, hanging out with the cats, drinking a few bottles of beer (yes, only a few, really), sitting in my deck chair on the front lawn, looking at the ever changing view of sea, beach, clouds, birds, boats.
I did some work in the garden, mowed all the lawns, cleaned up a bunch of dead things
that had fallen down everywhere and generally had a good tidy up. But for most of the time, I had the absolute blessing of quiet, peaceful time. I'm enjoying some very tough old petunias that have survived all winter in their basket, hanging off the clothesline. They've come back with vigour, colour and a delicate scent.
Things are so full on with Mom right now that any moments offering a respite and some calm are graciously snaffled up.
I 
was very entertained by a large wood pigeon who enjoys grazing in my old kowhai tree. These are large birds, very heavy and this one is quite the acrobat. He balances on tiny twigs that bend precariously under his weight and hangs almost upside down in his efforts to reach the juciest morsals.Quite the show.
Of course the magnificent tuis are in full flap - maybe it is mating season - but they fly back and forth like phantom jets, diving into the trees making their distinctive calls as they go.
I sat outside with my clip board and did some writing. The Book About Mom is ongoing, but I was also making some notes for a creative writing workshop we're holding for women from Sweet Louise who wish to write short stories or poems about their lives with secondary breast cancer. This project was inspired by a book called Armed with Chocolate Frogs, a collection of stories by Australian women living with advanced breast cancer. It's going to be alot of fun and we're all looking forward to kicking this off early next year.
The other wonderful treat on the long weekend was the arrival of Skype onto my computer. A friend staying with me for the holiday is an IT whizz so she set up the 'lifecam,' loaded the Skype and I was away to Atlanta to visit my good friend Debbie. What a hoot it was! I was even able to play my snare drum and cymbals for her (my IT friend was also most helpful as a roadie, bringing these items into my office while I 
was talking to Deb). It was wonderful. Isn't technology grand? Get into it!
My little house comes into its own at this time of year. For the next four or five months, it becomes a sun-filled haven of light, bird song, sea breezes (and storms, sometimes), green trees and of course the view of the Gulf. Everyone calls it a 'magic place.'
People who visit arrive breathless after ascending all the stairs. I give them oxygen (or gin, whichever they prefer), sit them down on the lawn - and within five minutes they're asleep or lulled into a state of acute relaxation by the view. I feel very fortunate to be here.
A crashing great ride and a high hat... the beat goes on.
Wow - could it be true? It is getting warmer, New Zealand is now on Daylight Saving, we've had some really gorgeous days of sun and calm after one of the worst periods of wind and cold on record ...
Yes - I think so. Spring is here. I don't think the flowers have ever bloomed so brightly and with such profusion! Lovely in the garden and of course the deckchairs are on the lawn most days and Little Boy is in one or the other. We sit together and have our lunch, looking out to sea.
We need something nice to happen because here in NZ, things are a bit grim. Listening to the news I felt something very
close to despair because our Goods and Services Tax (GST) is going up from 12.5% to 15% on 1 October, the price of gas is going up 7 cents a litre (so it'll be over $1.80/litre) and more of our coastline is being gobbled up by developers.
In my lifetime I can remember beaches with nothing there except sand and waves - maybe a few ramshackle caravans and little holiday cottages scattered about, maybe a camping ground. We would go there for holidays when I was little. Now there are the multi-million dollar mansions and the no trespassing signs. I take my hat off to the local communities who organise themselves and try to stop the development or modify the plans so that the pristine nature of our coastline is not lost.
I'm actually supposed to be writing about the Joys of Spring, according to the September issue of my newsletter (have you subscribed yet? You should!) - not the miseries of GST and how much my bag of carrots will cost.
I celebrate the season joyously on my drum set. Yes, I have taken up drumming. I've always wanted to learn - ever since I was a kid - and I thought by golly, there's no time like the present. My old mate from over the road is teaching me. He goes by the name of Captain Snappy and I've known him for about as long as we've been in this neighbourhood (over ten years now). He used to come up here and drink beer with me, hang out, bring me a fish or two from the day's catch, until he moved closer to town. He is around on Mondays when he stays at his Uncle's place across the street and that's when we have our lesson.
I practice 30 minutes every day. The cats run for cover and the birds flee the trees in a flapping great rush. I am learning Basic Rock Beats and the Eighth Note Rest. I know a Tom Tom from a Snare and a crash ride and a high hat. I love it. Betsy likes the kick drum very much.
I wrote about my drumming on my breast cancer page too. Having something to bash away on helps with stress because I had to have some tests recently which rather upset the apple cart, as they do.
The drumming is joyous because it reminds me how important it is to get on with things that you want to do, stop putting it off. Buying the drums on Trade Me was kinda like Manon in my book The Pink Party when she goes out and buys her 'breast extension', the gorgeous blue convertible car. Such things may be expensive ... but they let us know we are alive, well and able to enjoy life and all the cool stuff it can bring. Why waste another moment? Get into it.
Is it spring yet?
I was laughing with Mom the other day over a story from my childhood that has become a family memoir. We were driving through California during a very hot summer. I was probably about six years old and quite the whiney-hiney. Hard to imagine really.
The picture here is of my sister and I (I am the little one) posing in our Easter get-ups roundabout the same time as the California saga. It's not very good quality but you can get the general idea of what a Little Miss I was.
Anyway, here's the story. I'd been told we were heading for a place called Pismo Beach so every two seconds, I'd whine in my high-pitched, long-suffering, blue-eyed blonde-haired little voice, "Are we at Pismo Beach yet. Are we there yet?" This is the same trip where my sister and I scanned the freeway for movie stars and rock and roll singers, our little cheeks pressed up against the car windows as we drove through Los Angeles (we were certain we spotted Chubby Checker who sang our favourite song of the time, The Twist ... c'mon baby, let's do the twist ... etc).
So now I keep asking, "Is it spring yet? Is it?" and everyone's getting sick of my whining. But I'm sick of winter and this wet damp horror that is my front lawn and my slimy green decks that even the cats slide on and the metre man took a big sixer on the other day. Ooops.
But I am happy to say there are signs of the coming season everywhere. The blooms 
are out on the cherry trees and my valiant peach tree is boasting its little pink blossoms.
I was sustained through the worst of the winter by some very jolly events, not the least of which was my birthday in July. I enjoyed a wonderful bottle of Veuve Cliquot champagne in the company of a very dear friend and a flying pig on an afternoon which was clement enough to sit outside. We hung out there for hours and it was a really delightful way to spend my birthday afternoon.
Work has also been exceptionally busy but with some lovely events as well. I had the good fortune to attend the launch (and write a
bout it!) of the new Sweet Louise fundraiser Sweet Exchange at the Rock Cafe in Mt Roskill. A splendid evening of champagne and canapes prepared by resident chef extraordinaire Peter Chaplin ( he used to cook for Chrissy Hinde of The Pretenders and Madonna .. of course!) to inspire the guests to host their own Sweet Exchange occasion - it's a cool idea where you invite your mates along to an Exchange of consumables ... food, clothes, DVDs ... have a great time and exchange your products for donations. It's all on the Sweet Louise website - go have a look-see.
So alot of writing has been going on - plus plenty of really fun stuff! Tonight I am off to cover the Writer's Room event with NZ Film maker Gaylene Preston - she's talking about her latest film Home for Christmas .I finished a swag of articles for the
upcoming issue of Pink magazine plus a cascade of funding applications ... so have been taking a little time to catch up on my own writing (my Journal and of course The Book About Mom) and some reading too. Eh luxury!
I've heard from my friends in the US and they all say, 'Gosh it's perishingly hot over here! We can hardly breathe!'
Ha! I can hardly breathe here either but that's because I have a cold ... oh yes, the associated miseries of the seemingly never-ending winter time. The view from my office is dull and grey much of the time, the front lawn so wet I sink into it up to my ankles when I go out to hang the washing. It won't dry out until spring - the lawn or the laundry!
What a grumpy guts I sound eh? Well, you know, around mid-winter it gets to you - days of cold, wet and grey. Our Auckland climate is not so much freezing cold as damp and chilling. Mould seems to grow on everything (even the cats). Alot of folk flee New Zealand for a break in tropical climes.
And when those southerlies come barrelling up the Gulf, kicking the sea into a fury of white and storm tossed foam, run for cover!
But you know I think you just can't beat a warm fire on a cold winter night, tucked up all cozy at home with a glass of fine single malt and a bowl of corn chips (or whatever you fancy). I light the fire most evenings round 5pm so the house can warm up and stay that way long into the night. It's a delight I look forward to throughout the day.
It's the getting up in the morning that is hard. One wants to hibernate underneath the covers. I set the heat pump to come on at 5.30am, forever hopeful that its warmth will entice me to rise by 6am. Not a chance. Little Boy spends alot of time hanging out 
on the front doormat, staying dry and watching the rain fall. Betsy has taken to sitting with me in my office as I work, editing the copy on the screen, making morning tea and generally hanging out in a supportive and inquisitive way.
I will admit we have had some gorgeous winter days - clear, bright, blue skies - perfect for walking or finding a patch of sun to sit a while. So it's not all bad. It's good weather to stay indoors and work - and I've certainly been doing alot of that.
At the moment I'm working on an article for the upcoming issue of Pink magazine about the art exhibited in the Auckland Hospital Oncology Ward, Ward 64. The art is supported by the organisation Sweet Louise to honour the memory of Auckland woman Louise Perkins who passed away from breast cancer and whose life was the motivation behind the wonderful organisation that is Sweet Louise. Art dealers and curators Kathlene Fogarty (FHE Galleries) and Tim Melville (Tim Melville Gallery) both knew Louise Perkins well and wished to establish the collection as a lasting testament to her, to all who have stayed in Ward 64 - and to those 
who will follow. Artists were commissioned to create works for the exhibition of art and the resulting installation in the Ward is unique, extraordinarily moving and inspirational.
I've also completed more summaries for The Writer's Room, Script to Screen's very cool and groovy monthly series where the public can come along and, for a small donation, hear TV and film industry experts talk about an aspect of the writing craft. My summary for the July event with American comedy expert Steve Kaplan appears on the Script to Screen website. That was a great evening and we w
ere fortunate to have Steve, one of the most sought after comedy consultants in the industry today. Steve has worked on TV shows like Friends, Joey, Sex and the City and Will and Grace. His message about writing comedy was quite clear: "Just tell the truth. Drama helps us dream of who we can be and comedy helps us understand who we are."
The inclement weather stimulates my imagination. I often wonder if this has something to do with my childhood, growing up in Seattle Washington, where so many days were cold and grey!! I don't think my Seattle contacts will take offence because the Pacific Northwest weather is notorious in winter time for its monotony of drizzle and grey cloud.I remember quite well, to this day, how my sister and I would use our imaginations to enliven those cold days. Our bunk beds became a ship on the high seas from which we would 
dive to the ocean floor, cardboard shoeboxes tied to our backs as 'aqualungs', sticks for spearguns to fight off the monsters of the deep. And of course there was the favourite pass time of 'fishing down the laundry chute'. I'd be upstairs, dangling a piece of string from a pole; my sister would be at the bottom, tying on strange and wonderful things for me to pull up and go 'ooh and ahh!' over.
So when the weather gets grey, I like to sit, ponder and write. I don't get nearly as much time as I'd like to write but I feel anxious when I don't make time. I write about my birthday in July with the fabulous bottle of Veuve Clicquot champagne and good company. I think about the summer to come when we'll sit outside again and enjoy a bottle or two amongst the potted flowers! Bring it on, as they say.
Is writing an addiction? Yes, I think so.
Sounds a little like The Trip to Bountiful (did you ever see that movie? Great!) but not quite so poignant. However, the trip was a return to Rawene for me. I had visited there many years ago with my friend Liz as we journeyed 'up the Kaipara' and beyond.
I have to say when I first saw Rawene (main street pictured left), I didn't take to it - but it has grown on me over the years, those memories of the sleepy little town at the head of the Hokianga harbour - and when I went back for my mid-winter trip, it hadn't changed much - thank heavens! Living in Auckland where change seems to be constant and startling, one forgets that other parts of NZ seem to change little - and that's good.
Rawene lies in the Far North of New Zealand and can be reached either by traveling along the west side of the North Island or up the east. Going the eastern route is busy - full of traffic, trucking, tourist buses heading to the Bay of Islands and beyond; the west takes you along the Kauri Coast - up the Kaipara Harbour which is low lying land where they grow l
ots of kumaras (Dargaville is the Kumara Capital of NZ - I saw these friendly fellows sitting atop what seemd to be a produce packing facility - one at far left is famous purple kumara, middle looks like orange and then Mr. Carrot); the harbour itself is very large but shallow and mud-flatty with mangroves, the water the colour of strong, milky tea. Once you leave Dargaville, the road starts to go upwards, into the hills and after a while you enter the wonderful Waipoua Forest, home of the mighty Tane Mahuta!
The Waipoua Forest is one of the last remaining stands of true native forest, including the massive and ancient kauri which were f
elled relentlessly back in the old days to make masts for sailing ships as the wood was very strong and the trunks tall and straight.. The kauri gum (a golden coloured, hard gum) was much prized too - and that was dug out relentlessly as well. So the kauri in the Waipoua are much prized - the photo at left does not do them justice either! - but alas, as I write, a new disease threatens them and is endangering Tane Mahuta (the King of the Forest). Tane Mahuta is world famous and a favourite on the tourist trail. This massive kauri is estimated to be over 1200 years old, the most ancient living thing in NZ today. Some kauri can live to be 2,000 years old. The roots of the kauri are very shallow and so walking on them can damage the trees - Tane Mahuta has his own boardwalk, as befits his stature as King of the Forest..
The road through the Waipoua is winding, narrow and steep in places but offers a beautiful drive. The tall trees press in close to the car, lush ferns, greenery and of course the massive trees.
But the biggest surprise is yet to come ... driving out of the Forest, along a little bit through farmland and then, cresting a hill, a stunning view awaits - the mouth of the historic Hokianga Harbour.
Of the two Harbours (Kaipara and Hokianga), I think I'd pick the Hokianga as being the more magnificent. At the mouth of this harbour is a great sand dune - a colossal thing rivalling the Sahara - guarding the entrance where wild surf whips up and roars over a treacherous bar. How they navigate that one ... not for the novice, I'm sure. The coastline here is wild and woollie - huge waves roll in from the Tasman Sea, cresting far out on shallow sand bars, sweeping in with brilliant white foam, seagulls swooping up and down. Not for the faint of heart.
One then drives along the shores of the Hokianga for a while and goes through the little seaside holiday towns of Omapere and then Opononi.
Opononi (this photo taken from the beach at Opononi, harbour mouth and giant dune in the distance) became well know for its playful dolphin Opo who swam alone into the harbour during the summer of 1955-56 and 'bonded' with the locals, swam with children and balanced balls and beer bottles on her nose (read an article in the Northern Advocate about Opo here) during the summer of 1955-56. Tragically, Opo died or was killed - no one knows for sure - but her memory lives on in the town.
On through a rural, rolling valley and then behold! The turn off to Rawene.
Rawene began as a timber (kauri) and shipyard centre in the early 19th century and has a rich history. The town sits on a small peninsula at the head of the Hokianga and is now defined as an historic precinct with many wonderful old homes and sites. A brave little car/passenger ferry ploughs across the breezy harbour to the small town of Kohukohu. One can watch the passage of the ferry from the delightful deck of the world famous Boatshed Cafe whilst having tea and cake in front of ever watchful and hopeful seagulls.
There is one main street with all the necessities including the old Masonic Hotel with bar 
and accomodation. Rawene also hosts its own Writers Festival - is it each year or every other? Anyway, it is a regular attraction in town and indeed many writers, artists and craftspeople live in or around Rawene so it is quite the artistic community.
Sounds like heaven? Well ... Rawene is quiet although it is on the tourist trail and gets buzzy during the summer with lots of visitors. However, when the westerlies kick up and the winter rain arrives, one local told me a bit of 'cabin fever' sets in. He also said that when he first arrived in Rawene (many years ago) he heard that local farmers were 'flat out' during the winter months and he thought, gosh, they must be busy. He later found that 'flat out' meant 'flat out on the couch watching TV.'
One can purchase a home in Rawene for a fair price. I looked at one that the local agent told me had been built using a 'sinker' kauri log. I had no idea what he meant so he explained that in the old days when kauri was shipped from the Hokianga, some logs fell into the water and sank. Back then, they had no way of retrieving the massive 'sinker' logs. However, in recent times they've been able to hoist them up from their watery places and use them to build houses ... fascinating!
I
wandered about the little town, taking some photos, visiting with very friendly locals and finished up with afternoon tea at the Boatshed. My visit to Rawene gave me a glimpse of a quieter life - one that I crave sometimes, because life here is so busy and tense and full of unknown things with family and work. Mom used to say she wanted to write a book called 'Paranoia in Paradise' about living in such a beautiful place like New Zealand, but having to deal with all the stresses and strains and occasional madness of everyday life and a crazy family! Sometimes I feel my life is like that here, right now - so a visit to another place, a dip into peace and calm, change of scenery and a peek into the lives of others can refresh and revitalise, replenish in many ways.
April 2010 - winter is on the way ...
Yes I can feel it in my bones ... the damp cold of an Auckland winter is fast approaching.
We have been rather fortunate lately with some gorgeous calm days, blue skies, flat seas - and warm during the day. But I noticed a distinct nip in the air this morning and condensation on the inside of the bedroom windows. Out with the squeegee and the towels!
There hasn't been much rain at all this summer and we're still feeling the effects. As we are on tank water here (collected from the roof when it rains - and it hasn't much) Dad and I have been very frugal with the supply, only washing our 'bare essentials' and taking really quick showers. We can buy water but at over $180/tanker load it's quite an expense.
The cats are good indicators of the changing seasons. Betsy spends alot of time indoors now (she's very much an outdoor gal but when it's cold, she's in) and so she and Little Boy routinely spit and spat over the c
oziest spots in the house. Betsy feels safest lounging in her special bed on my worktable, up high so Little Boy can't jump on her too easily. Sometimes she sits right beside me, her nose dribbling over the computer keyboard ... lovely.
I have to say that things have been on a roll lately - and not a very good one. It seems to be all about glass; the car was broken into some weeks ago, at a downtown parking garage - they took $2 from the glovebox and trashed the car but the biggest problem was the glass from the window they broke to get in. It's still falling out of the door and getting into my underwear. Yesterday a crack appeared in the windshield. The guy came today and said, "Nope - she's a goner" saying that it was a stress crack. The car is old. So am I and I feel full of stress cracks too.
Then I got a cold - have just recovered from that. I was very good about staying home and not spreading 
the germs about.
But I'm doing alot of interesting work at the moment. This week I attended The Writer's Room (Script to Screen's monthly event) and will write up an item about NZ director Robert Sarkies (Scarfies, Out of the Blue) about 'creative visualisation'. He tells us he is a very visual director rather than using alot of dialogue in his films to move the action along. 'Show, don't tell' is a well-used phrase when writing for film!
I'm working on an item about the YWCA Encore programme for the upcoming issue of Pink magazine. This is the 125th anniversary of the YWCA so it's a special year for them.
We're also one step closer to completing our special Welcome Pack for Members of Sweet Louise (for 
women living with secondary breast cancer). The pack will contain information for women when they join the organisation, a special Journal for writing down thoughts or drawing (with inspirational quotes contributed by Members), and a few other special goodies.
So it's a busy time of year. I haven't had alot of time for keeping up my latest book, 'About Mom', however try to keep the Journal entries current on this site. Sometimes I wish I could have about 6 months of time to only write my creative things - Mom's book, some short stories, whatever takes my fancy. Ah! Wouldn't that be luverly?
March 2010 - I enjoy a trip to the East Cape
Summer feels as if it's drawing to a close. Today it's cold and very windy - there's a strong southerly blowing up the Gulf. Waves are high, whitecaps are blustering along - and I'm actually wearing long pants and socks for the first time in weeks.
The cats feel it too. Little Boy has taken to sleeping und
er the clothes drying frame which sits in the livingroom and Betsy has not strayed from the couch all day.
It's been a good summer weather-wise. We've had plenty of fine, warm days, blue skies and deep blue seas. It has been a different summer because Mom is no longer at home - and she so loves the beach, the relaxing gin and tonics on the deck in the late afternoons, a bit of conversation and some music. We miss her terribly but of course can visit her in the private hospital whenever we like.
I've been swimming alot at our beach - lovely - but have to say I miss swimming with Mom. We would go down together most days because even though it was hard for her to get into the water, once she was in, she would float about 
for ages. She does ask these days if I've been swimming and of course I tell her all about it. "Is the water cold this year?" she asks. "No - it's been really warm," I lie ... because I think it's been a bit nippy.
I've been away for a few days recently. I had the opportunity to attend a hui at Hicks Bay (pictured) on the East Cape, at the Hinemaurea Marae. We stayed on the Marae for three nights. It was a most enriching and fascinating experience that we all felt privileged to be a part of. We were made to feel so very welcome and it was very interesting to hear the local stories and history of Ngati Porou in that area.
After the hui, I ventured further out to the very remote and wild East Cape itself. The East Cape of New Zealand is the first place in the world to see the sun of every new day. Most of the road was gravel and wound its way past grasslands, wild stands of pohutukawa and then clung tightly to the base of high, crumbling cliffs. The waves were huge and ferocious, sweeping from the sea into vast, wide, sandy bays. Such land is not for the faint hearted and gives a whole new meaning to those stories that begin, "It was a dark and stormy night." Because out here the nights are dark as pitch and the storms the stuff of nightmares.
There is a lig
hthouse on the East Cape - you can see it as a tiny speck on the top of the hill here in the picture. It is a climb of some 750 steps, I was told. The day I went it was mighty windy and I was short of time, so I think I'll make it a point to go back, see more of the Cape and to visit my new friends on the Marae.
I stopped in to see an old friend at Te Puke on the
way. We had such a good catch up. We hadn't seen each other for over a year. I realised how much time has gone by, how busy we have been caring for Mom and it was good to sit down with my friend, have a drink or two and hang out for a while. She gave me some of her delicious green grapes to bring home and I carried them back with me along with all the memories, thoughts, feelings and emotions from my visit to Hicks Bay and the Cape.
Visiting places of such extraordinary wildness take us out of ourselves. Immersion in another culture makes us look inside, see our own lives from a different place. Listening to the stories of others and telling ours in return offers a sharing, learning, an exchange like no other.
It's summertime! December 2009 - January 2010
Hooray for summer and we're enjoying a good one down here in New Zealand. 
It's a little cooler than usual at the beach with a southerly wind kicking up most days but we're enjoying clear blue skies and loads of sunshine. Fabulous!
It's also been a delightful season for our pohutukawas. The blooms this year have been rich red, profuse and magnificent. Many of the trees were planted here on our beach reserve but we also have plenty in their natural habitat, clinging to the crumbly clifftops and spreading majestically into the wide, open air.
The summer season has not been entirely peaceful here. We've had a few hot-headed dramas. Little Boy is dealing with a grey and white tomcat intruder who is giving him royal fits and territorial spats. He's come off worst twice now because he's just a little boy and his two top incisors have fallen out so his bite is somewhat impaired. In spite of these physical handicaps he earnestly defends his patch and I cart him off to the vet just as earnestly afterwards.
His latest wound is right on his bum, just above the tail.We visited the vet last we
ek because Little Boy was languishing so ... but I am happy to say he has now come right and is lounging about in his usual manly fashion with a beer or two on the deck. The grey and white seems to have gone on vacation because he hasn't been around after the last pummelling.
I am sad to say it's been a difficult Christmas/New Year for our family. My Mom, Betty Jane, suffered two strokes in November and December and so was in the hospital for about five weeks, over Christmas. We took the festivities to her on the day with a small Christmas tree, her favourite chocolates and goodies, loads of presents and a Christmas stocking full of little treasures. My sister is here for the summer so she and Dad and I trundled in
to the ward with all our fun things and we enjoyed a raucous hour or two with Mom.
She was in the hospital for a long time. Whilst she cannot move about very well now, she still enjoys getting out so I'd come and take her for a burn in the wheelchair down to Lake Pupuke, right near the hospital. We'd sit and visit and enjoy some fresh air and the antics of the swans and their babies.
The saddest part about all this is that Mom cannot return home now. We can no longer care for her here because her needs are much greater. This has been particularly hard on Dad. He has cared for her as best and for as long as he could and it's hard for him to accept that he's done all he can and now it's time to let the professionals take over.
My Mom's two greatest values have always been Family and Home, so the loss of Home has been very hard for her to understand and to accept. Thankfully some days she really doesn't think about it too much. We have settled her into a wonderful private care facility not far from where we live so we can visit regularly and all her friends can stop by too. So far so good. She's already taking an interest in her neighbours across the hall, is enjoying summer tennis on TV and has all her photographs set up so she can see them from the bed.
In spite of it all she has not lost her sense of humour. Yesterday she said, 'The South shall rise again!' and has requested a gin and tonic. Good signs indeed!
What am I writing? You may well ask! The work year of 2010 has begun as I update websites and write items for the breast cancer organisations I contract to. The Book About Mom has taken another turn with Betty Jane's health. I'm making the most of the times I have with her, having a laugh or two if we can, or just sitting and being there. I bought her some new summer clothes which she is enjoying - especially the flash new blue pyjamas!