We wandered out into our small pocket-sized garden after dinner and read until 10pm. It's been hot here. We have summer. It's for sure now.
There's even talk of 31 celsius at the weekend. We have a BBQ to attend, a birthday party too. Oh, and the monthly expedition for supplies.
But anyway, the garden ...
Note of caution, based on what I read in Gert's mind ... if you want peace and tranquility, best not take a photographer.
I thought I could be tough on what was 'good enough' with this documentary-style series capturing the Hangi. But I'm finding that I want to include almost everything because all the photographs seem important to the story.
I realised that it's not just about cooking food in the ground, it's about the community that forms as people work together. And it was about the people who came and went during the process - it was kind of tidal, with different folk appearing at different stages.
But most of all, it was about the people who worked on it - those on a tour who saw help was needed and climbed into it with their experience from 'back home in NZ', with their strength, despite wearing boat shoes or white sneakers.
In the end it was all about the feeling surrounding the process ... it was quite staggeringly beautiful.
At the moment, I'm not sure one photograph captures it all. It's a story to be told with many photographs.
I'm off to Norway in August. There's a photography workshop to run for the rather extraordinarily talented woman who is Ren Powell.
And there was an invitation to a Hangi too, in London.
However there are 137 documentary photographs from this day of labouring, 137 that I a really pleased with ... although there are 'quite some' to go. I think it might be another night and day here in the chair.
Meanwhile ... I love this image of the Maori flag firmly planted in a Flemish field ...
And now, to cook some Persian chicken for dinner.
The fire that heated the stones used in the hangi pit ... was beautiful. Out there in a ploughed paddock on Flanders Fields.
Today is all about processing the 400+ photographs I took out on Flanders Fields, in the village of Mesen, on the occasion of ANZAC Day.
My grandfather was at Gallipoli, Turkey ... and later he was out on the Somme, in France, with his horse. Whether he made it to Flanders Fields with the rest of the Otago Mounted Rifles, I don't know ... he was injured on the Somme and found the experience of war so appalling that he would rarely speak of it.
I went twice to Gallipoli, while living in Turkey. The Turks have forgiven the invaders and actually take good care of the soldiers who fell there. In fact ...
Turkey became a republic in 1923 and Kemal became the first president. During his 15-year rule, many sweeping changes were introduced to the political, legal and socioeconomic fields. He was an immortal hero to his people and an extraordinary leader and peacemaker. Kemal said in 1933, "I look to the world with an open heart full of pure feelings and friendship". In 1934, he accepted the title "Atatürk" (father of the Turks).
In 1934 Atatürk wrote a tribute to the ANZACs killed at Gallipoli: Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives... You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side now here in this country of ours... you, the mothers, who sent their sons from faraway countries wipe away your tears; your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace. After having lost their lives on this land they have become our sons as well.
This shot was taken in Mesen, as the New Zealand navy greeted Bruce Simpson of Ngati Rana, the London Maori Club.
