These days have been about a mix of good friends who have wandered through, coming from the UK and Italy, with New Zealand due at the weekend. And into this mixture there is also what feels like the end of summer, a yearning for New Zealand, planning for Italy, laundry and dishes and vacuuming, and sometimes ... exploring my photography archives, wishing I had more time to just write too.
A beautiful confusion perhaps.
I feel like a cat, turning and turning and turning again, attempting to settle into my life, clear on a way forward.
I found myself writing this blog post after searching to see if I had a photograph that captured Walkers Creek, a favourite creek in Fiordland National Park. That creek my dog used to swim in while I sat on the grassy bank, with a beautiful mountain range directly in front of me.
I think I wanted an image that confirmed my memories of that place. It was about 60 kms into the park, back when I lived in Te Anau. 60kms ... like so many of my 'runaway' places. Anakiwa when I lived on the airforce base back in Marlborough, the Arrow River when I was in Cromwell, and Pilots Beach when I lived out on the Otago Peninsula.
But there was another favourite place and I did photograph it last time I was home. I was up recording a New Zealand dawn chorus to bring back to Europe, staying at Hunter and Claire's place. I was wrapped up in warm clothes, out on the veranda, voice recorder mounted on my camera's tripod when I suddenly saw all that was directly in front of me.
I love this view ... Manapouri, New Zealand.
