We are beginning to live by the tides, and by the ebb and flow of the polar blast currently roaring its way up New Zealand. Smiling, a little, when we realise we have seen his beloved Mohikinui River in flood, twice now, in 3 days.
We went to sleep, loving the sound of torrential rain on the roof.
We woke to a thunderclap so loud that we thought the world was ending.
Since then, the day has been spent with us all quietly searching for comfort. In sleep, in food, in moving slowly through the hours of this day as it unfolds. The thunderclap, its lightning strike really, killed our power supply, making us doubly glad that our house has a big wood-burning fire.
We lit it, loaded the firebox and I cooked our porridge on its hot top … heated water for coffee, and thawed out our frozen blueberries.
Voila, breakfast was achieved, in the most satisfying 'wilderness' style.
The tide was fully in by mid-morning, the river had filled to almost over-flowing again. The tide pushing in, the river pushing out at its mouth. The Mohikinui is one of the last 'natural untouched' rivers in New Zealand. There is so much pleasure to be found in watching it slide by, from up here on the hill.
The sea is choppy today. Whitecaps as far as the eye can see. White clouds scudding across the sky, ahead of the next front rolling through, with high winds, heavy rain …
Nature on steroids. Nature at its best. I can write this because the house here seems sturdy. Built for every kind of West Coast weather.
The water pump needs electricity to move the water from tanks to tap. I waited till 8.30am, then wandered out to phone the site manager, just wanting to be sure it was a general power outage, and not just us, up here on the hill.
He said, no. The linemen were on it. He promised he would bring up a generator if the fault wasn't found.
10am, the linemen rolled up our driveway. The weather, atrocious. We greeted them with smiles and offers of coffee. They smiled back, thanking us but needing to go across wet fields to the power pole out there.
I watched them through the binoculars we brought traveling, just in case there were far-away things to observe. I watched, and after 20 minutes perhaps, they managed to hook something to something and voila, I opened our window to 'thumbs-up' them when they looked.
The power was on.
The coffee machine …
But since then, we have achieved almost nothing except acknowledging, or perhaps accepting, that there is nothing we need to achieve, for no one.
The sunshine is Spring-bright outside. I'm squinting as I look over my screen, watching the sea flow in, the river flow out. The collision is happening 500 metres from here, I can't miss it.
The drummer is drumming on his Jembe It's good to hear. Perhaps today is the day that he will set-up the stripped-down drum-set he brought with him.
But there's a break between rainstorms and wind, we need to go out into this wild West Coast weather.
Another day is done.
La vita è bella.
Note: the image below came about while out walking. Selected in a hurry, fitting into the time I have online.
