Weekend Roundup

We have been having some great weather lately - at least on Thursdays. I sit in the office with the sun pouring in, and think about getting out on to the hills over the weekend. And then Friday comes (which is the start of the weekend for me), and it's grey and cold.

I went walking anyway, yesterday and today. No photos yesterday, because I was hunkered down in my raincoat against the weather, and cloud and mist don't make for great views. Today though, once I had got started, it cleared enough for a few photos.

There are better views from the track on the other side of the hill, but that one is closed due to the rockfall hazard after the earthquake. With at least nine thousand unstable boulders identified, I think it will be a good while, if ever, before all the tracks are open again.

All the shops that were in collapsed or damaged buildings, or that are locked out of the cordoned off central city, are scrambling for new homes. Sydenham and Addington, two formerly rather run-down suburbs, are suddenly becoming trendy. I used to shop at the Spotlight Plaza in Sydenham, chiefly for Spotlight - a budget fabric, craft and homeware store - and Payless Plastics, where you can get all sorts of plastic containers, among other things. Now the building has been renamed "the Colombo" and it's going upmarket. I went to have a look at Bolt of Cloth, primarily to drool. They stock beautiful furnishing and craft fabric. Their new shop is much smaller than their old one, and they seem to be stocking more items like china and tea towels. But I was very taken with their solution to the space problem.

That rack in the background of the photo displays "fat quarters" of fabric (a half a metre of fabric, cut in half lengthwise). But a closer look reveals that it slides, to reveal another rack behind, and another, and another... five in all. I would love to have one of those in my sewing room.

Most of the other new shops are clothes shops and most of them are out of my price range. Their are rumours that Spotlight is moving, so it may be that Bolt of Cloth will be my only reason to come back here. I have it on good authority that some of the tenants are being paid considerable sums to terminate leases early, so that the landlord can acquire new tenants willing to pay higher rents. It will be interesting to see how it turns out.

We had a 5.5 aftershock last Sunday - the biggest since June 13th and 12th biggest overall. The shake itself didn't bother me. But I found myself feeling somewhat down in the next few days, because it seems as if it will never end, and constant aftershocks are delaying progress on settling insurance claims and rebuilding. But there are hopeful signs. A new bus exchange is opening in a week or so. Instead of having to take one bus to the south of the city, a second shuttle bus around the perimeter, and a third bus from the north side, commuters on some routes will be able to take just one bus that goes right across the city again. There are also new bus routes starting to cater for the fact that all the lawyers, accountants and so on are concentrated in different parts of the city than they were before.

There are also plans to start opening some of the cordoned-off areas soon, starting with the City Mall, where there will be a lot of pop-up shops in converted shipping containers. That's because so many buildings have been demolished. There are also going to be bus tours through the cordoned-off areas, starting November 5th. I'm not sure how much there is left to see, though.

Back to fabric - our local library has a display of quilts from the quilting group run for refugee and migrant women. This display runs every October and I always enjoy seeing the colourful quilts in the library.

This was my favourite, and has me itching to get out fabrics and play with them. Though I'm not at all short of unfinished projects already.

Tuesday Poem: Scotland Yet, by Jessie Miller

Scotland Yet

My heart is far away in that dear land
Of heath-clad, purple hills and rocky strand,
Where spreading bracken in their shadows hide
The wild, sweet violets growing side by side,

Where silver streamlets softly wind their way,
And murmur music sweetly all the day,
Or dash in cascades down the mountain's side,
And streak the russet moorland, wild and wide.

I hear again the lark's glad, joyous song
Poured forth in thrilling torrents clear and strong,
As up he soars to greet the dawning morn,
Whose shafts of light proclaim the day is born,

Where bright-eyed daisies deck the verdant lea
And wild rose garlands lure the passing bee,
Where graceful bluebells and the primrose pale
With golden daffodils adorn the vale.

And when the sky is grey and leaves are shed
And birds have ceased to sing and flowers are dead,
When tempests fiercely rage and high seas roll
And storm and dark combine to awe the soul,

My heart but loves thee more, and fain would fly
Where white mists gleam and deep snows drifted lie,
Where danger waits to meet the sons of toil,
To make them strong defenders of their soil.

Brave Scotland, where the flowers in beauty spring,
We far away thy songs will ever sing,
And though for Empire's sake we widely roam
Our hearts still turn to thee, our father's home.

- Jessie Miller

*******

Last week I posted a poem which was also an advertisement. This week's poem has more serious intent, but much of the same patriotic Scottish sentiment. Jessie Miller was a distant relative of mine and her book of poems, Duty and Ease, is in my collection of family history materials. She wrote at about the time of the First World War, and her poems were published regularly in the Kinross Advertiser, so she seems to have been quite well-renowned, in her local area at least.

Many of the poems are quite martial and stirring, as well as pious - no doubt intended to uplift at a time when the nation was at war. They may seem quaint now, but I wonder what will future generations make of the bulk of poetry written now? Only time will tell what has lasting value and what doesn't.

I've been a bit lax lately in sending out requests for permission to post poems, or in writing any of my own, but I hope to remedy that in the next few weeks and post something more modern.
In the meantime, for more Tuesday Poems, visit the main hub site.

Tuesday Poem: The Emigrant's Farewell

The Emigrant's Farewell.

Farewell to bonnie Scotland! to the mountains and the glen,
The land of love and freedom of fair women and brave men.
The good ship now outspreads her wings to bear us o'er the foam
Far, far from Caledonia and our Native Highland home.

Farewell to him who served me well with famous boots and shoes
A parting word of gratitiude to him we can't refuse
His boots through many changing years have well adorned our feet
Enabling old and young to walk in ease and comfort sweet.

Farewell to friends and kinsfolk - shall we ever see them more?
Or shall our bones be laid to rest on yonder far off shore?
We know not - but we hope and trust we shall not seek in vain
For Scottish hearts both leal and true across th' atlantic main.

Farewell Auld Scotland it may prove a long and last adieu;
But though the glistening tear should dint our last fond look at you
Our heads are cool, are hearts are firm and we have for our feet
A stack of LECKIE'S BOOTS AND SHOES FROM 50 COCKBURN STREET.

***

This poem was originally published in an advertisement on the front page of The Scotsman, June 5th 1882. It's blatantly commercial, of course. But somehow, I fell in love with it for its peculiarly Scottish mix of sentimentality and practicality.

My Scottish ancestors set out for New Zealand, and their siblings and cousins to many other countries, in the 19th century, and may well have been shod in Leckie's boots and shoes. And no doubt there was a glistening tear or two on their cheeks when they left their friends and relatives behind.

I like the fact that advertisements back then didn't have to grab the attention quite so quickly as they seem to nowadays, leaving room for a four stanza poem, instead of a quick sound bite slogan.

For more Tuesday Poems, visit the main hub site.

What I Have Been Doing

The blog has been a bit neglected lately with the change of seasons. Spring brings with it the urge for change and I have found myself exercising more - long walks as part of a weight loss regime - and trying to take control of the garden.

Not that I have great plans for the garden - I'm anticipating that when earthquake repairs are done - both to the house and all the walls and fences - there will be men in big muddy boots trampling all over the place, and shrubs cut back to better access the walls and foundations. This won't happen any time soon but it doesn't seem worth planting anything too long-lived in the meantime. So I'll be relying a lot on annuals for colour - especially the ones that like to plant themselves, like alyssum and cornflowers. In the meantime, my gardening efforts are mainly confined to keeping lawns under control, pruning, and weeding.

As for the walks - everything is affected by earthquakes around here. My favourite walking tracks on the Port Hills are almost all closed due to rock fall hazard. It would be entirely possible to walk on them anyway, since the closure amounts to a small sign at the start of each track saying "This track is closed due to rockfall hazard". But the idea of walking under towering cliffs, given the 8000 or so aftershocks we've experienced in the last year, isn't very appealing. Especially with the thought that if anything did happen, since the track is closed, there probably won't be too many people coming along to find me and help out. So I have been exploring a bit further afield for my walks, rather than confine myself to the one nearby track that is still open - since it runs along the top of a spur, and there is not much above to fall down.

Today I headed up to the carpark at the Sign of the Kiwi, at the top of Dyers Pass, and headed south along the Crater Rim walkway by the Summit Road. There are plenty spots where there are spectacular views of Lyttelton Harbour below. There are also lots of side tracks which head down the steep slopes towards the harbour, but these appear to be all closed due to the rockfall hazard, so the main track is pretty much the only option. Still, since I haven't walked this part before, it was interesting enough, and next time I will probably take the car further along the road, and start from the spot I reached today before turning around to head back.

Spring means lots of lambs, including this little black-faced one:

And gorse with a dense cover of yellow blossom:

The gorse was brought in by the early English settlers, for hedging on their farms. We wince now at their lists of supplies which include items such as "10lbs of gorse seed". They didn't realise how invasive and unwanted it would become in the milder New Zealand climate. It does look spectacular in spring, though.

The photo of Lyttelton Harbour with gorse in the foreground was taken from a few metres along one of the closed side tracks. The sign pointed to a lookout, however I wasn't prepared to go any further to find it, especially when I caught sight of this boulder complete with spray painted number.

The rock is about twice my height so would make quite a mess if it fell on top of me. I realised when I uploaded my photos that it is rather blurred, however as it's the only one I have, I decided to post it anyway.

Tuesday Poem: Minor Repairs

Minor Repairs

A daddy goes away in the morning
and comes back at night. Moon
comes at night and goes away
in the morning. They say
there’s a man in the moon.
But she thinks that’s silly,
because all the daddies come back
when the moon comes out.
She likes to put a tie round her neck
and carry a briefcase down the stairs
like daddy. But she doesn’t know
what he does when he goes away.
so then she pretends to be daddy
coming back. When daddy comes back
he fixes things. He glues wheels
on her toy cars, and he makes new pieces
for her puzzles. Maybe he fixes things all day.
He must be very busy fixing other people’s things.
Sometimes hers have to wait.
Daddy has a big box with broken things
he hasn’t had time to fix.
The moon though, that’s another matter.
It’s a big round piece of white plastic,
and it breaks every month,
and then daddy sticks it together
and puts it back in the sky.


I've sent this poem out with submissions a few times, and on each occasion the editor concerned preferred others from the selection I sent, so I decided to let it free on my blog instead. I always find the workings of children's minds fascinating. The poem perhaps has a slightly old-fashioned flavour, given that it involves a stay at home mother and a professional father - but then, that's the way it was in our family at the time. And my daughter really was convinced that Daddy mended the moon every month.

For more Tuesday Poems, visit the main hub site.

Tuesday Poem: Spring, by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Nothing is so beautiful as spring—
When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;
Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;
The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush
The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush
With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling.

What is all this juice and all this joy?
A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginning
In Eden garden.—Have, get, before it cloy,
Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,
Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy,
Most, O maid’s child, thy choice and worthy the winning.

- Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1844 -1889

Another favourite spring poem this week. Surprisingly, I find this year the weeds in my garden aren't quite as "long and lovely and lush" as usual at this time. I must have been keeping up with the weeding over winter.

What I haven't been keeping up with so much is writing. Since returning from holiday, I'm trying to get back into a routine - using the site 750 words to write every day, and noting down six simple observations each day. The poetry ideas are stirring, now I just have to find time to get to them. And I have several of last year's poems appearing in publications soon, after which they will be available to post here.

For more Tuesday poems, visit the main hub site.

Tuesday Poem: from A Shropshire Lad, by A E Housman

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)

A E Housman was an English poet best known for his cycle "A Shropshire Lad", published in 1896, from which this poem is taken. As Housman died in 1936 the poem is a few years out of copyright (70 years after the author's death, in England and America, although only fifty years in New Zealand). At this time of year it seems entirely appropriate to post one of my favourite springtime poems - although I suspect the photo is not, in fact, a cherry, but may be some other species of prunus, or even apple blossom.
We are often away in September and I seem to miss spring blossom often, so I was pleased this year to be back early enough in the month to enjoy both the blossom and the daffodils. And to remind myself that I almost certainly have fewer than fifty springs left to "look at things in bloom".
For more Tuesday Poems, visit the main hub site.

Back Home

I had a great break away in Queensland, but it's worth coming home for this:

And this:

We have real seasons here - not just "wet" and "dry". And September is one of the best. The view of the Southern Alps from the plane does double duty as my contribution to Carmi's theme for the week - White. I would also have aerial views of the Canterbury Plains, but they always make us turn off our phones and digital cameras by that stage in the journey. Next time, perhaps I'll buy a digital film camera, as the views are always stunning.

Tuesday Poem: I'm Starting to Speak the Language, by Nicole Cooley

I’M STARTING TO SPEAK THE LANGUAGE

of disaster, he says and we keep driving through Mississippi,
Highway 90, Hurricane Alley, on our way to New Orleans,
while Johnny Cash sings, Go on, I’ve had enough.
Dump my blues down in the Gulf.
And he says, that one’s blue-roofed, that one’s gone,
and we stop to see an address on a tabletop leaned
against a tree, a FEMA number spray-painted on wood.
There’s no house. Private Property. Keep Out. Do Not Demo.
We are here together on a tour of the Gone: three porch steps
For Sale By Owner, a beached trolley at the edge
of the road like a huge stunned animal -- Tour Historic Biloxi!—
Gulfport Economy Inn. IHOP. Jefferson Davis’s Beauvoir House.
All that’s left of an address he calls the new lexicon,
the spray-painted X, the house marked O,
Dog Found. Stone foundation threaded with weeds
that are no language. Still, you can tell
where a house once stood, he says, by the clearing.
A front gate is For Sale by Owner. All that’s left
of an address. Missing a whole story.

- Nicole Cooley

One of the blogs I read regularly is Brian Brodeur's How a Poem Happens. Each post contains a poem and an interview which reveals how it came about.

Last week I found this poem by Nicole Cooley there. She has kindly allowed me to repost it for Tuesday Poem. For the related interview, visit this link.

Although the situation in New Orleans, and Mississippi, is not the same as the situation in Christchurch, I felt immediate recognition on reading this poem. We too, are starting to learn the language of disaster. The signs spray-painted on our buildings may not be quite the same, but the emotional territory is recognisable. "All clear" we read, as we travel round the city, "No Go", times and dates that buildings are checked, and others are labelled with contact details for the owners and engineers, in the hopes that they will not be demolished without notice. And then there is the growing number of vacant sections as damaged buildings come down.

I'm about to take a blogging break for a couple of weeks, but particularly wanted to post this powerful poem before I take a much-anticipated break from earthquakes and snowstorms. For more Tuesday Poems visit the main hub site.

A Month of Photos #28

This drill has appeared at the bottom of our street in the last couple of days. They are testing the soil to see if it is strong enough to build on again. Apparently they drilled down a couple of metres and then hit water. Water was pouring out of the drill under pressure when I went past, and I heard that it goes a long way down, which is not good news for all the houses along the river.

If the land is not good, then there is no point repairing the houses, because no insurance company will cover them. (And we are still getting shakes - two of magnitude 4+ yesterday, after a few quieter weeks). So areas of the city where the land needs remediation are being declared "red zones", and all the residents will receive buy out offers from the government. Then the houses will be removed, and the land repaired (a very long term project). Then, at some time in the future, it may be built on again.

Close to 10,000 houses have already been declared red-zoned. The houses at the end of our street closest to the river and all the houses on the road bordering the river, are currently orange-zoned, which meanse "further investigation is required". Which is where the guys with the drill come in.

I'm very thankful that the land under our house is OK. And concerned for my neighbours who may be not so fortunate.

A Month of Photos #27

I've been indoors all day until after dark (at a bridge tournament) so I'm posting another photo from the craft fair yesterday. I liked the fragmented reflections of the stall opposite in these mosaic mirrors, described as "quake art" (wonky houses and cathedrals, mostly).

A Month of Photos #25 & 26

I missed a couple of days, so I'm posting two today. I went to the Dunkley's Great New Zealand Craft Show. We missed out on it last year because of the September earthquake. Parts of the Addington Raceway where it is held each year are damaged, but there are enough good buildings for it to go ahead. It was good to see some of the stallholders displaced from the Arts Centre, which is severely damaged.

I included this second one as it is "glass" week at Carmi's blog, here.

A Month of Photos #24

A couple of days of rain have washed away quite a bit of the snow, but there is still plenty on the hills, and on the roadside verges on this side of town. (We were on the north side of town last night and found it was quite a bit clearer).

This was taken after work, when the sun had finally come out and we had a glimpse of blue sky.

Tuesday Poem: The Snowstorm, by Ralph Waldo Emerson

The Snowstorm

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight; the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,
And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end.
The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.

Come, see the north wind's masonry.
Out of an unseen quarry evermore
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
Curves his white bastions with projected roof
Round every windward stake or tree or door.
Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
So fanciful, so savage, naught cares he
for number or proportion. Mockingly

On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths;
A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn;
Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall,
Maugre the farmer's sighs; and at the gate
A tapering turret overtops the work.
And when his hours are numbered, and the world
Is all his own, retiring, as he were not.
Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art
To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone,
Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work,
The frolic architecture of the snow.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)

I had a couple of spring poems that I was considering for today's post, but then the snow arrived and neither seemed quite appropriate, so I went on a quick search for a winter poem instead.

I cleared the driveway enough last night to get my car out this morning - but more snow fell in the night, so when I got up I found I was back where I started. In the end I decided to walk to work. It usually takes me about half an hour, today it was more like fifty minutes. The first bit was the toughest, once I reached a main road I just walked in the tracks left by cars.

I was quite relieved to be given a lift home in the boss's son-in-law's four wheel drive again, as he finished work a half an hour before me. The drive way is clear again - enough to get the car out - but whether it will remain so tomorrow I don't know.

My boss is very good about paying me when I can't get in due to earthquake or snow, but there have been so many of those paid days already this year that I don't feel right taking more if I can help it. After all, if no work is being done, no money is coming in.

For more Tuesday Poems visit the main hub site.

A Month of Photos #22

More snow! Three weeks ago we had the coldest day since 1918, and now we have a "one in fifty year" snowstorm, which is actually heavier than the previous one, and predicted to last several days. It has swept the whole country, with snow in Wellington for the first time since the 1970's, and snow in Auckland where it is pretty much unprecedented. (Though I don't think it actually stayed on the ground there).

I was all geared up for a snow day with no work, when my boss rang to say that his son-in-law had turned up in his four wheel drive, and could pick me up to take me to work. Given the number of paid days off I have already had this year, what with earthquakes and the previous snowstorm, I could hardly refuse.

I photographed the pigeons from the window at work, they were on the roof of a nearby house.

A Month of Photos #21

Spotted in a garden near the Christchurch South library this afternoon. A bit of cheer for earthquake-stressed residents.

A Month of Photos #20

I guess I had better stop waiting, then...

A billboard not too far from my home that seems to have been demanding my attention lately.

A Month of Photos #19

Somewhere around this time last year I was celebrating a birthday. And, following a meme on another blog, I started a list of "x things to do before I turn x". (I am not being coy about my age - it's just that for purposes of avoiding identity theft, not revealing my exact personal details in such a public forum seems a good idea).

So - I've been looking over the list and pondering how differently my year turned out. For a start, there is nothing on the list that says "experience three major earthquakes". Or, "learn more geology than you ever expected". (Not to mention various snippets about the methods of building construction and their earthquake resistance).

There are things on the list that I just can't do at the moment. I can't walk the Crater Rim walkway, because large sections of it are closed due to rockfall hazard, and likely to remain so for some time. There is a poetry open mic series that I had intended to go to at least once, that is just not happening at the moment because the venue is unavailable.

It's not all bad though. I did order Moo postcards. I did send out six submissions of poetry (which represents about half of all the New Zealand journals accepting submissions that I am aware of). I did ride a camel (I admit, that only made it onto the list after I knew it was pretty certain to happen!)

And most importantly - I left one paid job, and one unpaid job, so now I am down to one paid job which takes four days a week, giving me a lot more free time. Leaving those two jobs was a bigger task than I expected. Sometimes it's a lot easier to keep doing something than to organise it sufficiently for someone else to take over. Now, I am hoping the coming year will be the year I actually do something with the extra time. So, over the next few days I will transfer the unachieved goals to a new list - at least, the ones that are still possible, and add a few more.

Tuesday Poem

Instead of posting a poem today, I have a link to the latest issue of the Science Fiction Poetry Association's online journal Eye to the Telescope which includes one of my poems "Radio Wave Propagation in the Roman Warm Period." (You will need to scroll down).

Another Tuesday poet Tim Jones was the editor for this issue, and a few more Tuesday poets are also featured.

And for more Tuesday poems, visit the main hub site.

A Month of Photos #18

The light reflecting off this window caught my eye on my way home this evening.