Blast from the Past
10/03/10 20:09 Filed in: New Zealand | Lord of the Rings
I am sitting here in The Shire with an incredible warmth which is the combination of an Indian Summer and a joy of my work. All of the future is personified by my image below and the beautiful aroma of Frangipani being overpowered by my Gardenia that are now flowering in abundance. My past is the bouquet of a Central Otago Pinot (Mt Difficulty).
The past also returned today with a post via my friends at TheOneRing.
The present is more exciting - with the opportunity to go to “work” every day and be amongst the future.
I guess all I can say is “Life is Good!”
Thanks to Linuxelf.....
The past also returned today with a post via my friends at TheOneRing.
The present is more exciting - with the opportunity to go to “work” every day and be amongst the future.
I guess all I can say is “Life is Good!”
Thanks to Linuxelf.....
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Tropical Heat
Little did I realise that I would be living in the tropics when I shifted to Matamata. The last week haas seen 90% humidity and temperatures in the high 20’s with the heat index (what it actually feels like) around 35C. This has meant a number of things for us;
However, there are a few upsides;
So, the second list actually outweighs the first!
The image below is of my first flowering frangipani - I am very happy!
- We need air conditioning
- It is impossible to sleep at night
- There are tropical insects everywhere
- The flys are VERY annoying
However, there are a few upsides;
- The garden is flourishing
- I can grow Frangipani
- I can grow Hibiscus
- I can grow Gardenia
So, the second list actually outweighs the first!
The image below is of my first flowering frangipani - I am very happy!
Life in Matamata
04/02/10 17:49 Filed in: New Zealand
It’s hard to believe we have now been in Matamata for five months. Time flies! Today I had the pleasure of talking to Jim Mora on New Zealand’s National Radio about life in Matamata, books and lots of other things. The audio is below.
Podcast
Podcast
Happy New Year
01/01/10 12:12 Filed in: Garden | Photography
As 2010 dawns I would like to take this opportunity to wish all of you a very Happy New Year. May it bring you all that you wish and dream. I start the New Year with some of my favourite verse from my favourite poet, Sir John Betjeman. I think it fits nicely with the image below.
Verses Turned...
Across the wet November night
The church is bright with candlelight
And waiting Evensong.
A single bell with plaintive strokes
Pleads louder than the stirring oaks
The leafless lanes along.
It calls the choirboys from their tea
And villagers, the two or three,
Damp down the kitchen fire,
Let out the cat, and up the lane
Go paddling through the gentle rain
Of misty Oxfordshire.
How warm the many candles shine
Of Samuel Dowbiggin's design
For this interior neat,
These high box pews of Georgian days
Which screen us from the public gaze
When we make answer meet;
How gracefully their shadow falls
On bold pilasters down the walls
And on the pulpit high.
The chandeliers would twinkle gold
As pre-Tractarian sermons roll'd
Doctrinal, sound and dry.
From that west gallery no doubt
The viol and serpent tooted out
The Tallis tune to Ken,
And firmly at the end of prayers
The clerk below the pulpit stairs
Would thunder out "Amen."
But every wand'ring thought will cease
Before the noble altarpiece
With carven swags array'd,
For there in letters all may read
The Lord's Commandments, Prayer and Creed,
And decently display'd.
On country mornings sharp and clear
The penitent in faith draw near
And kneeling here below
Partake the heavenly banquet spread
Of sacramental Wine and Bread
And Jesus' presence know.
And must that plaintive bell in vain
Plead loud along the dripping lane?
And must the building fall?
Not while we love the church and live
And of our charity will give
Verses Turned...
Across the wet November night
The church is bright with candlelight
And waiting Evensong.
A single bell with plaintive strokes
Pleads louder than the stirring oaks
The leafless lanes along.
It calls the choirboys from their tea
And villagers, the two or three,
Damp down the kitchen fire,
Let out the cat, and up the lane
Go paddling through the gentle rain
Of misty Oxfordshire.
How warm the many candles shine
Of Samuel Dowbiggin's design
For this interior neat,
These high box pews of Georgian days
Which screen us from the public gaze
When we make answer meet;
How gracefully their shadow falls
On bold pilasters down the walls
And on the pulpit high.
The chandeliers would twinkle gold
As pre-Tractarian sermons roll'd
Doctrinal, sound and dry.
From that west gallery no doubt
The viol and serpent tooted out
The Tallis tune to Ken,
And firmly at the end of prayers
The clerk below the pulpit stairs
Would thunder out "Amen."
But every wand'ring thought will cease
Before the noble altarpiece
With carven swags array'd,
For there in letters all may read
The Lord's Commandments, Prayer and Creed,
And decently display'd.
On country mornings sharp and clear
The penitent in faith draw near
And kneeling here below
Partake the heavenly banquet spread
Of sacramental Wine and Bread
And Jesus' presence know.
And must that plaintive bell in vain
Plead loud along the dripping lane?
And must the building fall?
Not while we love the church and live
And of our charity will give