This week's prompt at Poetry Thursday was to carry a poem around with me. My first instinct after coming back on holiday and finding all the cherry trees in bloom was to carry around A.E. Housman's poem "Loveliest of Trees". In Frances Maye's book, "The Discovery of Poetry", she tells how she was stunned on going to college by the blossoming cherry tree outside her dorm window. She had grown up in the American south and wasn't used to the dramatic season changes of the north. She and a friend copied Housman's poem and tacked it up to the tree. Every day people stopped to read the poem.
Here it is:
Loveliest of Trees
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough
And stands about the woodland ride,
Wearing white for Eastertide.
Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.
And since to look at things in bloom,
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.
-A.E.Housman, 1859 - 1936
In the end, though, that's not the poem I chose to carry around. There is another poem that both inspires and mystifies me, that I wanted to get to know better. It is a wonderful midlife poem, "Crossroads" written by Joyce Sutphen. There are images in it that are clear to me, and others that puzzle me a little, such as this - "the second half of my life will be black/ to the white rind of the old and fading moon". After carrying it around for a few days I think I am getting to know it better. You can find the poem here. I hope you enjoy it - then you might follow the link at the top and find other wonderful poems from Poetry Thursday participants.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Holiday Photos: Mauao
Apart from our trip to White Island, we didn't do any other "big" tourist things on holiday. We spent time playing pool and minigolf, walked on the beach and took a lot of photos.
One afternoon I set off with my eighteen year old son to climb to the top of Mauao - the "mount" that gives the town of Mt Maunganui its name. For the Maori legend of Mauao click here.
This is not a great photo of me, but it proves I made it to the trig station at the top! I took over a hundred photos, but S.took about twice as many, since he spent a lot of time waiting for me to catch up. The first part of the track was particularly steep and I didn't really recover from huffing and puffing until we reached the flattish top area.
Here are a couple more photos - I will post more, but I have to go to work so don't have much time this morning.
The one with all the buildings shows how the central part of the "Mount" is getting rather touristy. The caravan park and triangle of track at the left side are where we started our walk up. The other is the view from the other side, showing Tauranga harbour entrance. It has two entrances although I think only this one is navigable - the boat is circling the south tip of a long island called Matakana Island which forms the seaward side of the harbour. Part of Tauranga city is in the distance.
One afternoon I set off with my eighteen year old son to climb to the top of Mauao - the "mount" that gives the town of Mt Maunganui its name. For the Maori legend of Mauao click here.
This is not a great photo of me, but it proves I made it to the trig station at the top! I took over a hundred photos, but S.took about twice as many, since he spent a lot of time waiting for me to catch up. The first part of the track was particularly steep and I didn't really recover from huffing and puffing until we reached the flattish top area.
Here are a couple more photos - I will post more, but I have to go to work so don't have much time this morning.
The one with all the buildings shows how the central part of the "Mount" is getting rather touristy. The caravan park and triangle of track at the left side are where we started our walk up. The other is the view from the other side, showing Tauranga harbour entrance. It has two entrances although I think only this one is navigable - the boat is circling the south tip of a long island called Matakana Island which forms the seaward side of the harbour. Part of Tauranga city is in the distance.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Holiday Tales: White Island
For me the highlight of our holiday was a trip to White Island. This is New Zealand's only marine volcano, and one of only three active volcanoes in New Zealand. Apparently volcanoes are rated on a scale of 0 to 5, with 0 representing "dormant" and 5 representing "national disaster". White Island, Mt Ruapehu (the mountain in the photos in the last post) and Mt Ngauruhoe rate 1 which represents "constant background activity".
The island is privately owned and there are only two tourist operators with permits to land there. You can travel by boat which takes about 80 minutes or by helicopter. Despite having reservations about small boats and choppy seas, I wasn't prepared to pay the cost of travelling by helicopter, so boat was the choice. And yes, I was a little uncomfortable towards the end of the ride, but it was worth it.
Here are a selection of photos:
The first is a group of people arriving at the remains of the jetty by inflatable. (Obviously I am not in this group as I was taking the photo - I had arrived on shore in a previous group). You can see our safety gear - bright yellow hard hats and gas masks. The latter proved very useful to protect from irritating fumes. Our group was mostly overseas tourists from Austria, Spain, the UK (I chatted to an English teacher who was spending her summer holidays here), and various Asian countries. I suspect that New Zealanders find the trip expensive, though the ratio of New Zealanders may rise in our school holiday periods.
This is a shot of the steaming crater lake. It is about 70 metres deep and around 50 degrees C. I thought that wasn't too bad, until we were told that it had a pH (acidity level) of -3 which is stronger than battery acid. You wouldn't want to fall in! Of course we stayed a respectful distance back. There were two guides named Mike and Mike, and we had to stay between the Mikes and keep to the route they chose. This was both for safety reasons and also to avoid damaging the island. We walked in low areas where footprints would be washed away by the next rain.
Sulphur crystallises out around steam vents on the island. This is one of the brighter areas. There are also white calcite crystals. The island was called "White" by the explorer who discovered it, because it was white, but it isn't so much now as subsequent eruptions have covered many of the crystal deposits with ash. It last erupted in 2000.
Our boat Peejay anchored in the bay, seen behind the old sulphur factory. Sulphur was mined here early this century. The first factory was completely washed away in a lahar. When the supply boat arrived the captain could find no trace of the ten men who worked there. Several pets also vanished. There was one survivor, a cat called Peter, who sired many kittens and became known on the mainland as "Peter the Great" . This factory is a later attempt at mining sulphur on the island, which ended in 1933 for economic reasons.
The remains of the dryer in the old factory. It was commented on that the circular structure looked like the "Stargate" in the TV series of the same name. I think my husband had a photo of my daughter and myself going through the Stargate.
There is lots more information on White Island on their website here.
The island is privately owned and there are only two tourist operators with permits to land there. You can travel by boat which takes about 80 minutes or by helicopter. Despite having reservations about small boats and choppy seas, I wasn't prepared to pay the cost of travelling by helicopter, so boat was the choice. And yes, I was a little uncomfortable towards the end of the ride, but it was worth it.
Here are a selection of photos:
The first is a group of people arriving at the remains of the jetty by inflatable. (Obviously I am not in this group as I was taking the photo - I had arrived on shore in a previous group). You can see our safety gear - bright yellow hard hats and gas masks. The latter proved very useful to protect from irritating fumes. Our group was mostly overseas tourists from Austria, Spain, the UK (I chatted to an English teacher who was spending her summer holidays here), and various Asian countries. I suspect that New Zealanders find the trip expensive, though the ratio of New Zealanders may rise in our school holiday periods.
This is a shot of the steaming crater lake. It is about 70 metres deep and around 50 degrees C. I thought that wasn't too bad, until we were told that it had a pH (acidity level) of -3 which is stronger than battery acid. You wouldn't want to fall in! Of course we stayed a respectful distance back. There were two guides named Mike and Mike, and we had to stay between the Mikes and keep to the route they chose. This was both for safety reasons and also to avoid damaging the island. We walked in low areas where footprints would be washed away by the next rain.
Sulphur crystallises out around steam vents on the island. This is one of the brighter areas. There are also white calcite crystals. The island was called "White" by the explorer who discovered it, because it was white, but it isn't so much now as subsequent eruptions have covered many of the crystal deposits with ash. It last erupted in 2000.
Our boat Peejay anchored in the bay, seen behind the old sulphur factory. Sulphur was mined here early this century. The first factory was completely washed away in a lahar. When the supply boat arrived the captain could find no trace of the ten men who worked there. Several pets also vanished. There was one survivor, a cat called Peter, who sired many kittens and became known on the mainland as "Peter the Great" . This factory is a later attempt at mining sulphur on the island, which ended in 1933 for economic reasons.
The remains of the dryer in the old factory. It was commented on that the circular structure looked like the "Stargate" in the TV series of the same name. I think my husband had a photo of my daughter and myself going through the Stargate.
There is lots more information on White Island on their website here.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Coming Home
I love being on holiday. I will post over the week over some of the things I enjoyed on holiday - sights seen, and other delights like not having to turn the heater on all week while my home town enjoyed (if that is the right word) snowfalls.
However coming home has its own delights. Here are some of them:
1) Sharp knives and vegetable peelers. The time share where we stayed has a very well-equipped kitchen, but the blunt knives and vegetable peelers annoyed me all week. We did buy a good cheese slicer, but I tolerated the rest.
2) Housework. It seems strange, but usually when I get back from holiday, I actually enjoy housework for a few days. I get a fresh look at my home and I can see clearly what needs to be done most urgently, so for a couple of days I run around doing it and get a great sense of accomplishment.
3) Finding that trees are bursting into pink blossom all over town while I have been gone.
4) Seeing my daughter again (the one who didn't come with us).
5) Getting shaken out of old routines. Coming back is a chance to do things differently, having adopted different habits in a different environment - drinking less coffee, walking more, getting to bed at a more reasonable hour.
6) Getting to catch up with all my favourite blogs, and play the comment games at Michele's. (We had internet access, but only if we paid fifteen cents a minute, on top of our usual monthly fee to our ISP. It was reserved for urgent things like student offspring who had to e-mail assignments).
Here are two photos of Mt Ruapehu in the central North Island, first as we passed it on the way north and secondly as we passed it on the way south a week later. Snow fell in between the two, while we enjoyed the mild climate further north. Fortunately the road we travelled, which had been closed by snow, was clear by the time we returned.
However coming home has its own delights. Here are some of them:
1) Sharp knives and vegetable peelers. The time share where we stayed has a very well-equipped kitchen, but the blunt knives and vegetable peelers annoyed me all week. We did buy a good cheese slicer, but I tolerated the rest.
2) Housework. It seems strange, but usually when I get back from holiday, I actually enjoy housework for a few days. I get a fresh look at my home and I can see clearly what needs to be done most urgently, so for a couple of days I run around doing it and get a great sense of accomplishment.
3) Finding that trees are bursting into pink blossom all over town while I have been gone.
4) Seeing my daughter again (the one who didn't come with us).
5) Getting shaken out of old routines. Coming back is a chance to do things differently, having adopted different habits in a different environment - drinking less coffee, walking more, getting to bed at a more reasonable hour.
6) Getting to catch up with all my favourite blogs, and play the comment games at Michele's. (We had internet access, but only if we paid fifteen cents a minute, on top of our usual monthly fee to our ISP. It was reserved for urgent things like student offspring who had to e-mail assignments).
Here are two photos of Mt Ruapehu in the central North Island, first as we passed it on the way north and secondly as we passed it on the way south a week later. Snow fell in between the two, while we enjoyed the mild climate further north. Fortunately the road we travelled, which had been closed by snow, was clear by the time we returned.
Saturday, August 26, 2006
I'm Back!
I'm back from holiday a bit earlier than I expected. That's because one of my daughters, who arrived to join us on Monday, had misunderstood when we were coming back (the plan was to leave Mt Maunganui on Friday, spend Friday and Saturday night with P's brother in Palmerston North, and then catch the ferry early Sunday morning, which would have got us back Sunday around teatime. But S. was supposed to be at work on Saturday at 2 p.m., so instead we stopped a few hours with my brother and sister-in-law (long enough for a meal and a nap) and then drove through to Wellington for the ferry sailing at 1.30 a.m. on Saturday, napped on the ferry, and drove on through to Christchurch. We were back at around 9a.m. this morning.
OK, when I stop moving I will be a little tired I think. In the meantime I have 110 e-mails to read (not counting the junk ones), all your blogs to catch up on, and a pile of tempting snail mail. It includes:
1) tickets for the writer's festival - the main sessions in a couple of weeks, with a workshop next weekend
2) heaps and heaps of brochures about Britain, particularly Scotland. I clicked on lots of "send me brochures" buttons on websites before I left.
3) my security clearance to visit the women's prison as part of "Books in Prison". I am pleased to report that apparently I have no criminal convictions (yes, well, I knew that really).
4) various other less interesting stuff.
I could write a really long post about the holiday. But instead I'm going to go and unpack some more, put laundry in the machine etc. I just wanted to post something to celebrate my return.
OK, when I stop moving I will be a little tired I think. In the meantime I have 110 e-mails to read (not counting the junk ones), all your blogs to catch up on, and a pile of tempting snail mail. It includes:
1) tickets for the writer's festival - the main sessions in a couple of weeks, with a workshop next weekend
2) heaps and heaps of brochures about Britain, particularly Scotland. I clicked on lots of "send me brochures" buttons on websites before I left.
3) my security clearance to visit the women's prison as part of "Books in Prison". I am pleased to report that apparently I have no criminal convictions (yes, well, I knew that really).
4) various other less interesting stuff.
I could write a really long post about the holiday. But instead I'm going to go and unpack some more, put laundry in the machine etc. I just wanted to post something to celebrate my return.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Almost Poetry Thursday
I'm posting early for Poetry Thursday this week (though not very early), because we are leaving around 7 in the morning for about ten days' holiday. And this week's completely and totally optional prompt is: whatever you like. (I'm not sure what it would mean to ignore the prompt this week!).
I realised that since I don't write a new poem every week, if I continue posting my own work I will run out. So this week I decided to post a poem I remembered from my childhood. My first ever book of poetry was "The Golden Book of Poetry". The poems in that book probably had authors, and they were probably named (the ones that weren't "anonymous") but I don't remember them. The first book of poetry that made me aware that poems had authors was "A Child's Garden of Verse" by Robert Louis Stevenson. I enjoyed all the poems in that book, but one I remember in particular is "Where Go the Boats". It is about a child playing by a river, and there wasn't a river in my childhood, but there was a beach. We spent very considerable parts of our summers, and probably time in winter as well, at the beach, which was within walking distance of our house. Today's children might not consider it a reasonable walking distance, but we did. So this poem resonated with the part of me that loved to play by the water, and with the part of all of us that loves the idea of a "message in a bottle" and of an unseen connection with faraway people.
Where Go the Boats?
Dark brown is the river.
Golden is the sand.
It flows along for ever,
With trees on either hand.
Green leaves a-floating,
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine a-boating—
Where will all come home?
On goes the river
And out past the mill,
Away down the valley,
Away down the hill.
Away down the river,
A hundred miles or more,
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore
- Robert Louis Stevenson (1850 - 1894)
I realised that since I don't write a new poem every week, if I continue posting my own work I will run out. So this week I decided to post a poem I remembered from my childhood. My first ever book of poetry was "The Golden Book of Poetry". The poems in that book probably had authors, and they were probably named (the ones that weren't "anonymous") but I don't remember them. The first book of poetry that made me aware that poems had authors was "A Child's Garden of Verse" by Robert Louis Stevenson. I enjoyed all the poems in that book, but one I remember in particular is "Where Go the Boats". It is about a child playing by a river, and there wasn't a river in my childhood, but there was a beach. We spent very considerable parts of our summers, and probably time in winter as well, at the beach, which was within walking distance of our house. Today's children might not consider it a reasonable walking distance, but we did. So this poem resonated with the part of me that loved to play by the water, and with the part of all of us that loves the idea of a "message in a bottle" and of an unseen connection with faraway people.
Where Go the Boats?
Dark brown is the river.
Golden is the sand.
It flows along for ever,
With trees on either hand.
Green leaves a-floating,
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine a-boating—
Where will all come home?
On goes the river
And out past the mill,
Away down the valley,
Away down the hill.
Away down the river,
A hundred miles or more,
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore
- Robert Louis Stevenson (1850 - 1894)
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Thumb Twiddling/Holiday
Right now I am supposed to be mailing out magazines, but the binders had some machinery go down this morning, so they won't be ready until 4 p.m. It is a good thing I put dinner in the crockpot.
In the meantime I am posting some photos of Mt Maunganui, which is where we are heading for a holiday on Thursday morning. Supposedly a week's holiday, but we are taking two days by car and ferry to drive up there, and another three days to come back, including a stop at my brother-in-law's. Five hours' drive to the ferry, a three hour ferry ride, and another two hours to I's house - an overnight stay, then I think it is about six hours drive north.
This is not Mt Maunganui - it is our garden, on 16 August 2004 just before we left on holiday. It's a little warmer than that just now, snow on the hills only, and the sun is shining.
This is the beach front at Mt Maunganui - it is a resort area as you can see by the motels and time share blocks.
This is the "Mount" after which the area is named - the high rises mark the expensive hotels and apartments which are at this end of the settlement, along with the main shopping area.
Last time we went, it was quite a bit warmer there than down here, even though it is still officially winter. And the resort has a heated pool and spa. Here's hoping for good weather!
In the meantime I am posting some photos of Mt Maunganui, which is where we are heading for a holiday on Thursday morning. Supposedly a week's holiday, but we are taking two days by car and ferry to drive up there, and another three days to come back, including a stop at my brother-in-law's. Five hours' drive to the ferry, a three hour ferry ride, and another two hours to I's house - an overnight stay, then I think it is about six hours drive north.
This is not Mt Maunganui - it is our garden, on 16 August 2004 just before we left on holiday. It's a little warmer than that just now, snow on the hills only, and the sun is shining.
This is the beach front at Mt Maunganui - it is a resort area as you can see by the motels and time share blocks.
This is the "Mount" after which the area is named - the high rises mark the expensive hotels and apartments which are at this end of the settlement, along with the main shopping area.
Last time we went, it was quite a bit warmer there than down here, even though it is still officially winter. And the resort has a heated pool and spa. Here's hoping for good weather!
Monday, August 14, 2006
In a Rush
We are going away for just over a week on Thursday morning (very early Thursday morning) and I have a gazillion things to do. I offered a while back to do the mailing out of Takahe magazine, thinking there would be plenty of time, but it was sent to the printer's late, and won't be ready to collect until about 2.30 Tuesday. That leaves me Tuesday afternoon to get to another house to do the mailing and get the contributors' cheques co-signed. Wednesday is out because I have to work.
I also have to pick up the replacement for my broken glasses. I had my car booked in for a service today because its warrant of fitness expires the day we get back. Unfortunately I completely forgot until lunchtime, so I couldn't pick it up until last thing, until then I was stuck at work later than I usually stay, with no transport.
There is a writer's festival coming up, I have to find time to book tickets before we leave. And pack. And clean out the refrigerator. I was planning to post some photos of our destination from last time we went, two years ago. I may or may not find time to do that tomorrow.
I had an interesting reply from the New Zealand frog survey about our noisy neighbours. He says:
"As expected they are Brown tree frogs (Litoria ewingii). These frogs are very interesting as they seem to be able to cope very well with the cold conditions in NZ. They were originally introduced from Australia to Greymouth around 120 years ago and since then most of their movements have been directed by humans wanting to take the tadpoles home to their gardens. There were a couple of deliberate introductions to the North Island particularly around the Manawatu area. They seem to be able to withstand a certain amount of freezing - I had a student a couple of year ago who froze them to minus 2C for eight hours and most of them survived with no ill effects!"
I on the other hand don't survive freezing very well :) We had snow in our backyard last night, although it melted fairly quickly. However there has been snow on the hills behind our house all day. We are hoping for better weather at the end of the week, as we have a ferry crossing of Cook Strait - a rather turbulent stretch of water - and a long drive through the centre of the North Island where snow sometimes blocks the road in winter, the following day. The daffodils are out but it isn't really spring yet.
Apparently the Scots viewed winter as an old crone, and spring as a young maiden, with the coming of spring a battle between the two of them for dominance. The weather would swing wildly from one extreme to the other until spring finally won out. That's about how it can be in New Zealand. When the southerly blows it is a blast straight from the Antarctic. We can have 70 degrees one day and 40 degrees a few days later.
I also have to pick up the replacement for my broken glasses. I had my car booked in for a service today because its warrant of fitness expires the day we get back. Unfortunately I completely forgot until lunchtime, so I couldn't pick it up until last thing, until then I was stuck at work later than I usually stay, with no transport.
There is a writer's festival coming up, I have to find time to book tickets before we leave. And pack. And clean out the refrigerator. I was planning to post some photos of our destination from last time we went, two years ago. I may or may not find time to do that tomorrow.
I had an interesting reply from the New Zealand frog survey about our noisy neighbours. He says:
"As expected they are Brown tree frogs (Litoria ewingii). These frogs are very interesting as they seem to be able to cope very well with the cold conditions in NZ. They were originally introduced from Australia to Greymouth around 120 years ago and since then most of their movements have been directed by humans wanting to take the tadpoles home to their gardens. There were a couple of deliberate introductions to the North Island particularly around the Manawatu area. They seem to be able to withstand a certain amount of freezing - I had a student a couple of year ago who froze them to minus 2C for eight hours and most of them survived with no ill effects!"
I on the other hand don't survive freezing very well :) We had snow in our backyard last night, although it melted fairly quickly. However there has been snow on the hills behind our house all day. We are hoping for better weather at the end of the week, as we have a ferry crossing of Cook Strait - a rather turbulent stretch of water - and a long drive through the centre of the North Island where snow sometimes blocks the road in winter, the following day. The daffodils are out but it isn't really spring yet.
Apparently the Scots viewed winter as an old crone, and spring as a young maiden, with the coming of spring a battle between the two of them for dominance. The weather would swing wildly from one extreme to the other until spring finally won out. That's about how it can be in New Zealand. When the southerly blows it is a blast straight from the Antarctic. We can have 70 degrees one day and 40 degrees a few days later.
Saturday, August 12, 2006
A Matter of Timing
It seemed like a good time for it. The five offspring are old enough to look after themselves (even if they still live at home). I have some money inherited from my grandmother. I am getting organised enough at work that I feel I can leave instructions to carry on without me, if I am away for several weeks. I have done enough research on the history of my various families that I know all the right places to visit ("do your research before you go" is a standard piece of advice). Obviously sometime around next (northern hemisphere) summer would be a perfect time to visit England and Scotland.
That is, until we were looking at the front page of the newspaper the other day, contemplating the events unfolding. "Do you still want to visit Britain next year?" P asked. "Yes" I answered very firmly.
But I really, really hope that the security restrictions ease off. Because the idea of a 24 hour flight without hand luggage is not an attractive one. I mean, not even a book for the flight? Nothing to do but watch crappy inflight movies and listen to screaming children, because parents can't take anything on board to entertain them? Well, what's 24 hours of hell compared to several weeks seeing the places I've always wanted to see.
I have been exploring websites to get a better idea of which places are "must see". The two main sites are Visit Britain and Ancestral Scotland. I have a beef, though. On the ancestral scotland site you can request brochures for the various areas. But what a crazy set up! You click on, say, "Stirling and the Trossachs" , find a button for "request brochure" and fill out the form. Then back to the button for "Dundee and Angus", click on the "request brochure" button and fill out the form all over again. And so on and so on...why couldn't they just have one form with check boxes for all the brochures you want? I am probably going to get about ten different envelopes in the mail one day soon.
Maybe they will all come on different days, it will make going to the mailbox much more fun.
If anyone has suggestions of interesting places to visit (or other useful websites), please leave a comment.
That is, until we were looking at the front page of the newspaper the other day, contemplating the events unfolding. "Do you still want to visit Britain next year?" P asked. "Yes" I answered very firmly.
But I really, really hope that the security restrictions ease off. Because the idea of a 24 hour flight without hand luggage is not an attractive one. I mean, not even a book for the flight? Nothing to do but watch crappy inflight movies and listen to screaming children, because parents can't take anything on board to entertain them? Well, what's 24 hours of hell compared to several weeks seeing the places I've always wanted to see.
I have been exploring websites to get a better idea of which places are "must see". The two main sites are Visit Britain and Ancestral Scotland. I have a beef, though. On the ancestral scotland site you can request brochures for the various areas. But what a crazy set up! You click on, say, "Stirling and the Trossachs" , find a button for "request brochure" and fill out the form. Then back to the button for "Dundee and Angus", click on the "request brochure" button and fill out the form all over again. And so on and so on...why couldn't they just have one form with check boxes for all the brochures you want? I am probably going to get about ten different envelopes in the mail one day soon.
Maybe they will all come on different days, it will make going to the mailbox much more fun.
If anyone has suggestions of interesting places to visit (or other useful websites), please leave a comment.
Friday, August 11, 2006
Some of Life's Lessons
A while back Sarah started a blog called "Life's Little Lessons" in which participants were invited to post five things they had learned each week. It seems to have faded away - but I thought I'd post a few things I learned yesterday.
For instance - if you blow an element on the stove, and then you find a lot of water all over the stove top, it's a good idea to check to see if you have managed to blow a hole in the bottom of the saucepan at the same time.
2) When the fuse has been replaced, and you start cooking dinner again in a hurry because you are now running late, the oven won't work unless you first reset the clock on the stove (even if you're not going to use the timer).
3) When choosing new glasses, the frames you like the most will turn out to be the most expensive. I sighed and settled for my second choice which were over a hundred dollars cheaper. Because the money matters, and I have also learnt that the most expensive doesn't necessarily mean the best quality (which was why I was getting new glasses in the first place, after the last frames broke).
I had quite a busy day, did a chunk of writing on my family history, went to the optometrist, posted my application for screening to be approved as a prison visitor, posted off the audio of our froggy neighbours to the NZ frog survey (at last - it has been sitting around for a while), made dinner despite the above obstacles and did a heap of washing and ironing. I am feeling quite accomplished. Now I just need to keep up the momentum.
For instance - if you blow an element on the stove, and then you find a lot of water all over the stove top, it's a good idea to check to see if you have managed to blow a hole in the bottom of the saucepan at the same time.
2) When the fuse has been replaced, and you start cooking dinner again in a hurry because you are now running late, the oven won't work unless you first reset the clock on the stove (even if you're not going to use the timer).
3) When choosing new glasses, the frames you like the most will turn out to be the most expensive. I sighed and settled for my second choice which were over a hundred dollars cheaper. Because the money matters, and I have also learnt that the most expensive doesn't necessarily mean the best quality (which was why I was getting new glasses in the first place, after the last frames broke).
I had quite a busy day, did a chunk of writing on my family history, went to the optometrist, posted my application for screening to be approved as a prison visitor, posted off the audio of our froggy neighbours to the NZ frog survey (at last - it has been sitting around for a while), made dinner despite the above obstacles and did a heap of washing and ironing. I am feeling quite accomplished. Now I just need to keep up the momentum.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Poetry Thursday: Unfinished Business
When I saw this week's prompt at Poetry Thursday - an unfinished conversation - I thought I might just ignore it and post a poem I've been wanting to post for a while. Then I realised that this poem is at least partly about unfinished conversations. Or rather, it is partly about things that I never asked my father, because when I was young I was an idealist and didn't think there was anything to discuss. War is wrong, no problem.
Now I realise that there are larger issues. And that my father may have seen complexities when he was older that he didn't see when he was young and idealistic, at the time of the Second World War. I struggled with this poem quite a bit and it's been through four or five rewrites, but I think I finally managed to make most of the elements come together in a way that made sense.
"Writing the Australian Crawl" is a book of essays on writing by William Stafford.
On Reading “Writing the Australian Crawl”
William Stafford, American poet, conscientious objector 1914 -1993
Stephen Miller, New Zealand accountant, father, conscientious objector 1916 - 1976
At three, I pulled down my father’s books
laid them all cover to cover
around the room – a highway of words.
In one, black and white images
of swimmers in full length suits
“Swimming the Australian Crawl”.
Bill, I am imagining that same book on your shelves
when you wrote this essay.
The highway is crumbling
that joins me to my father
– a few letters, a few old photos.
I have more of your words
than I ever had of his.
You might have met at Monte Cassino,
or victorious in Berlin.
You might have danced with my mother
when the Yanks came to town
on “rest and recreation”
but you both refused to fight
I imagine you both swimming
in mountain lakes or city pools
and I want to know
when you saw those flickering newsreels
Dachau, Bergen, Auschwitz,
did you still believe
that water could hold you up?
Now I realise that there are larger issues. And that my father may have seen complexities when he was older that he didn't see when he was young and idealistic, at the time of the Second World War. I struggled with this poem quite a bit and it's been through four or five rewrites, but I think I finally managed to make most of the elements come together in a way that made sense.
"Writing the Australian Crawl" is a book of essays on writing by William Stafford.
On Reading “Writing the Australian Crawl”
William Stafford, American poet, conscientious objector 1914 -1993
Stephen Miller, New Zealand accountant, father, conscientious objector 1916 - 1976
At three, I pulled down my father’s books
laid them all cover to cover
around the room – a highway of words.
In one, black and white images
of swimmers in full length suits
“Swimming the Australian Crawl”.
Bill, I am imagining that same book on your shelves
when you wrote this essay.
The highway is crumbling
that joins me to my father
– a few letters, a few old photos.
I have more of your words
than I ever had of his.
You might have met at Monte Cassino,
or victorious in Berlin.
You might have danced with my mother
when the Yanks came to town
on “rest and recreation”
but you both refused to fight
I imagine you both swimming
in mountain lakes or city pools
and I want to know
when you saw those flickering newsreels
Dachau, Bergen, Auschwitz,
did you still believe
that water could hold you up?
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Floods, Poetry, Books and Prisons
It has been raining heavily here the past two days. I caught part of the news on TV last night and learnt that there was flooding in Christchurch. The Heathcote River had burst its banks. Since the river is at the end of my street and I was going out, I tried to find out on the internet which streets were affected, but no luck. I figured that if there was water across the street I'd see that there was water across the street, so I went anyway. No problems. Later I learnt that some houses in the next suburb were evacuated, but nobody actually had water through their house, so it wasn't too bad.
The reason I was going out was that it was my poetry group, which I always enjoy. And we made plans. Firstly, one of the members had been asked to go into the women's prison as part of a "Books in Prison" scheme. She suggested that our whole group (four poets) should go, and we could tell them how we work together, and how we did our book. This might lead to something ongoing with the women writing and publishing a book.
This is the reason those lists: "fifty things to do before I die" don't work very well. Every so often someone comes up with an idea that just wouldn't have occurred to me. The most interesting things I have done were opportunities that arose unbidden. Like my former job as a forensic scientist (I was planning a science career but not forensics specifically) or the time I did a firewalk. It certainly would never have occurred to me to read poetry in a prison.
The other thing we agreed on is that it is time to plan a second book. So, first we are going to go out for brunch with some of the profits (only a small portion!) that have been sitting around from the first one. Then we will apply for a grant to go with the rest of the money to enable us to publish another. Then we just have to select, edit, workshop, write some more, select and edit some more, format, print, publicise...We plan the launch to take place at next year's Arts Festival which is in about twelve months time. Watch this space.
The reason I was going out was that it was my poetry group, which I always enjoy. And we made plans. Firstly, one of the members had been asked to go into the women's prison as part of a "Books in Prison" scheme. She suggested that our whole group (four poets) should go, and we could tell them how we work together, and how we did our book. This might lead to something ongoing with the women writing and publishing a book.
This is the reason those lists: "fifty things to do before I die" don't work very well. Every so often someone comes up with an idea that just wouldn't have occurred to me. The most interesting things I have done were opportunities that arose unbidden. Like my former job as a forensic scientist (I was planning a science career but not forensics specifically) or the time I did a firewalk. It certainly would never have occurred to me to read poetry in a prison.
The other thing we agreed on is that it is time to plan a second book. So, first we are going to go out for brunch with some of the profits (only a small portion!) that have been sitting around from the first one. Then we will apply for a grant to go with the rest of the money to enable us to publish another. Then we just have to select, edit, workshop, write some more, select and edit some more, format, print, publicise...We plan the launch to take place at next year's Arts Festival which is in about twelve months time. Watch this space.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Poetry and Politics
OK, I'm not sure if it is politics exactly, but I liked the two "p" words together.
I was struggling with a poem today and had a feeling it wanted to be a sonnet. So I pulled a volume of Seamus Heaney poems off my shelf ("Opened Ground"). Instead of reading poems for the inspiration of the rhythm, as I had intended, I found myself turning to his speech on accepting the Nobel prize, which is published in the back of the book. You can find it on the internet here. This is a man who grew up amid bitter sectarian violence in Northern Ireland, and managed somehow to acknowledge the reality of what was going on around him, and yet still affirm the value of art and literature. It is well worth reading.
Over at Paris Parfait, Tara, has been posting about the situation in the Middle East. Some have criticised her for presenting "only one side". Each of us is one person with one viewpoint - that's why we listen to each other, to see more than one side. No one person can give a complete view. However Tara has seen what life is like for Palestinians and is telling us about it. Is it a question of sides? Of right and wrong? I don't think so. It is a matter of the future of humanity.
A few of my random thoughts: I don't, of course, expect the Israelis to adopt the injunction "love your enemy". That's a Christian, not a Jewish, concept, and one which Christians have failed miserably to live up to. What the Old Testament teaches is "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth". This is taken by some to justify all sorts of retaliation. Actually, it was a concept meant to limit retaliation. You could do no more harm to the enemy than they had done to you.
I grieve with my friend who is part of a peace movement in Israel, for her despair at the future. As she says "Israel's actions only serve to strengthen the extremists".
And yet, I can see what fear for one's existence might do (for both sides).
It is easy to claim justification for one's actions. It reminds me of an epitaph, possibly invented but it makes the point:
"Here likes the body of Henry Grey
who died defending his right of way
he was right, dead right, as he sped along
but he's just as dead as if he'd been wrong".
I realise the above is beginning to get a bit rambling. That's the problem when trying to recognise that there's more than one viewpoint. It really is a lot easier to pick one strong view and stick to it, it makes for a much more coherent argument. Seamus Heaney's piece without being one-sided holds together much better than mine - I recommend it.
I was struggling with a poem today and had a feeling it wanted to be a sonnet. So I pulled a volume of Seamus Heaney poems off my shelf ("Opened Ground"). Instead of reading poems for the inspiration of the rhythm, as I had intended, I found myself turning to his speech on accepting the Nobel prize, which is published in the back of the book. You can find it on the internet here. This is a man who grew up amid bitter sectarian violence in Northern Ireland, and managed somehow to acknowledge the reality of what was going on around him, and yet still affirm the value of art and literature. It is well worth reading.
Over at Paris Parfait, Tara, has been posting about the situation in the Middle East. Some have criticised her for presenting "only one side". Each of us is one person with one viewpoint - that's why we listen to each other, to see more than one side. No one person can give a complete view. However Tara has seen what life is like for Palestinians and is telling us about it. Is it a question of sides? Of right and wrong? I don't think so. It is a matter of the future of humanity.
A few of my random thoughts: I don't, of course, expect the Israelis to adopt the injunction "love your enemy". That's a Christian, not a Jewish, concept, and one which Christians have failed miserably to live up to. What the Old Testament teaches is "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth". This is taken by some to justify all sorts of retaliation. Actually, it was a concept meant to limit retaliation. You could do no more harm to the enemy than they had done to you.
I grieve with my friend who is part of a peace movement in Israel, for her despair at the future. As she says "Israel's actions only serve to strengthen the extremists".
And yet, I can see what fear for one's existence might do (for both sides).
It is easy to claim justification for one's actions. It reminds me of an epitaph, possibly invented but it makes the point:
"Here likes the body of Henry Grey
who died defending his right of way
he was right, dead right, as he sped along
but he's just as dead as if he'd been wrong".
I realise the above is beginning to get a bit rambling. That's the problem when trying to recognise that there's more than one viewpoint. It really is a lot easier to pick one strong view and stick to it, it makes for a much more coherent argument. Seamus Heaney's piece without being one-sided holds together much better than mine - I recommend it.
Monday, August 07, 2006
City Safari
More photos from my camera try out last week. It was fun being able to look up in the city at balconies, architectural features etc, and to have enough zoom to get a good closeup shot.
Is Elvis still alive? He looks rather wooden in this shot.
The teddies are making a jail break.
These windowboxes always make me think of Europe.
Gulls are ubiquitous in New Zealand. I liked the lines of the steps on this fountain.
Is Elvis still alive? He looks rather wooden in this shot.
The teddies are making a jail break.
These windowboxes always make me think of Europe.
Gulls are ubiquitous in New Zealand. I liked the lines of the steps on this fountain.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Camera Talk
I made the decision that I want to buy a fancier digital camera than my current one. I have a fairly basic camera with 3 times digital zoom and a limited range of settings. I have been enviously eyeing my husband's camera which has ten times zoom. Having decided to buy a new one, P. promptly told me that I should wait because there will be new models out in a week or so.
In the meantime, he lent me his camera to try out, to get an idea of what features I might want. Here are some of the photos I took on a walk around the estuary, on a beautiful sunny winter's day. Some of the birds were obliging enough to pose for me within range of the 10 times zoom. This camera is 8 Megapixels. (Mine is about 3). Set on high resolution the file size turned out to be a bit large for Photoshop's "save for web" feature so I had to do some fiddling - that's why they are not all the same size. I'll figure out the best settings eventually. After my estuary walk, I went into town and took more photos. I'll post some of those later.
In the meantime, he lent me his camera to try out, to get an idea of what features I might want. Here are some of the photos I took on a walk around the estuary, on a beautiful sunny winter's day. Some of the birds were obliging enough to pose for me within range of the 10 times zoom. This camera is 8 Megapixels. (Mine is about 3). Set on high resolution the file size turned out to be a bit large for Photoshop's "save for web" feature so I had to do some fiddling - that's why they are not all the same size. I'll figure out the best settings eventually. After my estuary walk, I went into town and took more photos. I'll post some of those later.
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Poetry Thursday: Singing the Blues
This week's optional prompt for Poetry Thursday was to write a poem using the words of a song. As usual, I didn't write something new. I have been busy playing with my husband's camera to see what features I want, if I buy myself a new one. Apart from that, I don't like to come up with poems quite that quickly - I like to let them sit and settle for a while before editing.
Here is a poem in a previous post which uses song lyrics - OK, only about three words are quoted directly, but it does use song lyrics.
And here is a slightly silly poem I haven't posted before which could be the lyrics to a song, if someone cares to set it to music. Do you sing the blues? The Consumer Guarantees Act is a piece of New Zealand legislation, it is pretty much what it sounds like.
Consumer Guarantees Act Blues
Oh, there’s a “total satisfaction or your heart back” guarantee
Yes, a “total satisfaction or your heart back” guarantee
That’s what the man in the love shop said to me.
Well my man got up and left me, and he took my heart away
My man got up and left me, and he took my heart away
So I went to the complaints desk, here is what they had to say:
We’re sorry you’re not covered, because you did him wrong
We’re sorry you’re not covered, because you did him wrong
If you’d read the fine print, you’d have known all along.
Well I took my love for granted, now there’s nothing left to do
Yes I took my love for granted, now there’s nothing left to do
But sit alone and sing the Consumer Guarantees Act Blues
(oh yeah!)
Here is a poem in a previous post which uses song lyrics - OK, only about three words are quoted directly, but it does use song lyrics.
And here is a slightly silly poem I haven't posted before which could be the lyrics to a song, if someone cares to set it to music. Do you sing the blues? The Consumer Guarantees Act is a piece of New Zealand legislation, it is pretty much what it sounds like.
Consumer Guarantees Act Blues
Oh, there’s a “total satisfaction or your heart back” guarantee
Yes, a “total satisfaction or your heart back” guarantee
That’s what the man in the love shop said to me.
Well my man got up and left me, and he took my heart away
My man got up and left me, and he took my heart away
So I went to the complaints desk, here is what they had to say:
We’re sorry you’re not covered, because you did him wrong
We’re sorry you’re not covered, because you did him wrong
If you’d read the fine print, you’d have known all along.
Well I took my love for granted, now there’s nothing left to do
Yes I took my love for granted, now there’s nothing left to do
But sit alone and sing the Consumer Guarantees Act Blues
(oh yeah!)
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Strange Logic
Today's newspaper reports that one of the final eighteen contestants in New Zealand Idol has been withdrawn by the organisers. This contestant has convictions for aggravated assault and burglary, but that is not why she wasn't welcome. "Everybody deserves a second chance" they said. So, what could she have done that was so much worse? She was pregnant.
Apparently the judges claimed that they carefully considered the situation and decided that it wasn't in her best interests, or the baby's, for her to continue, since the contest is so demanding. Did they ask for a medical clearance? I suspect not, given that a top obstetrician and gynecologist was reported as saying that there was no reason why she couldn't continue.
She has been told that should there be a fourth series, she will automatically get entry into the top eighteen, if she wishes. Now, I did some calculations. Presumably she is not about to deliver in the next month or so, or they would have realised that she was pregnant somewhat earlier. The fourth series will probably take place next year - we have been enjolying or suffering one series a year (depending on one's viewpoint). So she will have a baby of a few months old. Apparently the judges have made the paternalistic decision that it is not in the best interests of mother and baby for her to compete now, but it is OK next year. Will they let her bring her baby to live in the Idol house for weeks on end while rehearsals and eliminations go on? I bet not - so they are assuming she will leave the baby - presumably bottle-fed - with relatives, while she competes.
Given the choice of competing while pregnant, competing while breast feeding and sleep deprived with a young baby, or leaving my baby for several months, I know which I would have picked.
As for their excuse - could the real reason have been that a pregnant woman just doesn't look sexy enough? That she doesn't fit the image?
Apparently the judges claimed that they carefully considered the situation and decided that it wasn't in her best interests, or the baby's, for her to continue, since the contest is so demanding. Did they ask for a medical clearance? I suspect not, given that a top obstetrician and gynecologist was reported as saying that there was no reason why she couldn't continue.
She has been told that should there be a fourth series, she will automatically get entry into the top eighteen, if she wishes. Now, I did some calculations. Presumably she is not about to deliver in the next month or so, or they would have realised that she was pregnant somewhat earlier. The fourth series will probably take place next year - we have been enjolying or suffering one series a year (depending on one's viewpoint). So she will have a baby of a few months old. Apparently the judges have made the paternalistic decision that it is not in the best interests of mother and baby for her to compete now, but it is OK next year. Will they let her bring her baby to live in the Idol house for weeks on end while rehearsals and eliminations go on? I bet not - so they are assuming she will leave the baby - presumably bottle-fed - with relatives, while she competes.
Given the choice of competing while pregnant, competing while breast feeding and sleep deprived with a young baby, or leaving my baby for several months, I know which I would have picked.
As for their excuse - could the real reason have been that a pregnant woman just doesn't look sexy enough? That she doesn't fit the image?
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