kereru

The Nor’wester

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I was walking down the zig zag this week and peeked over the fence at my old garden (roses now in bloom), got a bit nostalgic and wrote a poem about the Nor’wester …


then, this morning a dear friend in Sunny Nelson sent me a photo of her blooms
















November means roses erupting all over the show
bundles of scented beauty in clusters on arbours
standard and staked, rambling and rambunctious
glossy leaves before the aphids arrive, thorns 
rise up and out in defence protection agents
before grandma or whomever arrives with secateurs


quickly, take yourself down to the garden to
breathe in the fragrances, heavy, light some say
green tea or honey, but rush, rush why don’t you
before that damn Nor’wester arrives
to startle the tuis, shift the kereru, entwining
cabbage tree flora to sway and dangle 


why did you plant those roses right here in line
of the wind, in clay soil near the sea, surrounded
by manuka, kanuka, kawakawa, beech those
cabbage trees, the flax bushes, the kowhai
did you think your Constance Spry would not fly
away shedding petals in November?


But still, year in, year out you cosset them
Your favourite flowers, out of place in your
native garden where geckos manoeuvre unseen
where tuatara might once have been, but no
you wanted roses, by the sea, so you could
glimpse perfection, inhale summer
then you curse the Nor’wester




			

	
		
	


			
				


	

		
Love Birds

		
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These two came to visit us one evening. We’ve lived in our house on the hill for over thirty years. Usually, the kererū (wood pigeons), dive bomb us on our zig-zag path down to the road. They dance on flax bushes and crash through the bush at almost head height, frightening me frequently, followed by my joyful relieved laughter.


It’s a privilege to live among the bush and birds. For twenty years we had a cat called Red who roamed the sloping roof of our elderly house. She never killed the kererū or tui, but when Red died, we found the smaller birds (sparrows, blackbirds), got cheekier and came closer on our deck. They had obviously kept away.


This beautiful photo is of two kereru sitting on our deck railing while we were inside eating dinner. We had planned a BBQ but the weather closed in. Someone on Twitter suggested the birds are wearing white aprons, ready to do the dishes. Someone else suggested they are making their vows. And indeed, we held a wedding in our garden late December 2017. A friend said, the kereru heard we do good weddings.


So, this image, taken with a phone, through the glass, has struck a chord with many people on Facebook and Twitter, so I decided to share it with you, my blog readers.  Our house goes on the market late January (this is not a sales pitch), and this image of the kererū will see us through as we shift our view to further up the hill.