Lynette, Denis and I take a trip to Makarora. I haven't been there before and feel Denis's sense of adventure. He's returning home and is so excited. It's beautiful weather and a beautiful drive along sapphire lakes at the feet of southern mountains. Reminds me of Fiordland: bush, blue water, soaring peaks. When we get there we find the folks who own the home Denis built and they take us to visit. Memory lane. We drive down the road to a bush track. Denis can't walk and Lynette's hip gets sore so we spend time and I get a fix of bush scents rising from layers of beech leaves on soil. I've missed this smell of humus and leafy greens. Although Denis is in pain, he's at peace. On Sunday I take him to Art at the Packing Shed and he sees other local art and its creators. Although he's a Central Otago patron of the arts, people don't pay him much heed or give him time. He's old, his life force is diminishing and like many of the elderly is fading into invisibility. Paget's disease makes his joints ache and ultimately results in bone cancer. The rust is already in his bones and his body smells of it. I take him to Maxine's where he looks over the art in her shop pronouncing it better than what we've seen.
Meanwhile I visit Eden Hore's collection of merino high fashion from the 60's and 70's. A high country farmer, he had a proclivity for asethetics, especially of fashion, and had the foresight to collect avant garde pieces. An eccentric, he used to ride round with a goat in his car. A book in Central Stories Museum has allowed those who remember to record his exploits.
The sun burns down and relief from a swim in the lake is fleeting. Lynette and I eat outside on Saturday night and I'm unsettled by deep booming sounds about 7pm. Lynette's not...somebody letting off explosions. At this time??? Are they mad? Too close to earthquakes for me. Listening to the news later, turns out it's a volcano in the Tongan islands reawakening. Only Mother Nature can generate such energy. I heard similar when the earth moved in 2011 and when a comet flashed through the atmosphere about 2006. Theses sounds stop me in my tracks and change lives forever.
I stay at Maxine's and we drag mattresses outside to sleep under the stars. She lives in the middle of Ashton's orchard and we forage apricots... left after picking so it doesn't feel like stealing. I fill three boxes. I do more visiting and see Arthur, of moving fame, and June who have had a year of bereavement with stories to make my hair curl. They recount with wry humour and laughs which belie the tragedy of loss.
On Wednesday, two weeks is up and I throw my stuff in the car, put Lynette's bike and mine on the back and drive north back to the city. Mixed feelings but this is my other life and keeps my world turning. I make it in time for a game of bowls at Papanui BC, my first for the PHS team. We're schooled by old timers...rolling is harder than it looks but this is fun. I get to my beach at dusk. The surf is roaring.
Thursday and I start to process apricots. Covid is somewhere out there.
No comments:
Post a Comment