Thursday Research

I go to the section early and dig a bucket of bricks, glass and concrete chips from the site where the shed stood. A dumping ground for odd bits, the shed was used to store things: a coal bin where I put wood for an outdoor fire, and lots of odds and ends- old skis, a sun umbrella, plastic plant pots, seeds, etc.  Like any storage, I didn't use two thirds of the stuff there. The fence at the back of the shed was replaced at the beginning of the year and in the autumn I rehomed a few plants there, because I was restless at the never ending wait, and to get this garden border started. I drag myself away and head to Nicki's to have a kitchen design session. Two hours in, my head is hurting. It's another hour with the laundry nearly sorted before I leave. In the afternoon I visit the business of my neighbour, Dan- stone and tiles. I've got a headache when I leave there too. There's such a lot to learn and a myriad of choices. Thursday drinks at Fat Eddy's is a good distraction. We reminisce about Sol Square where the old Fat Eddy's was a huge hit. But The Strip is back. Inner city Christchurch is coming alive.

View from Fat Eddy's

Family Dinner Wednesday

It's still quiet around Christchurch. Traffic flows easily and shops are sparsely patronised. Life in the city is peaceful and relaxing. I lunch with Sharyn. The mission to get her and her wheel chair into the Lotus Heart is worth it. The food and atmosphere are blissfully succulent. Taylor's Mistake is also beautiful at the end of the day. The sun scorched hills, volcanic sand and small holiday baches create a reviving holiday feel any day of the week. In a neighbourly gesture, Chris's parents have invited the flat to dinner. They live across the road. Though in their 90's, they are full of beans and on the ball. Conversation is lively. I nod off after dinner but a bird loose in the house makes me scarper. I have a phobia of moths and this unpredictable flying animal in an enclosed space makes me squawk and run. I drive home after dark to see if I can spot Pierre. He doesn't show but the food keeps disappearing so fingers crossed he is still around.

The John Moore Legacy

There's a cool southerly wind but the sun is shining. When I get to the beach the surf flags are horizontal and the air is biting. And the beach is virtually empty. One of the secrets of summer...even if it's cold outside, the water will be the same temperature as yesterday. You just have to walk through the goosebumps and get in. Nicki comes round to do kitchen stuff but we get side tracked. She's choosing an image for a metal screen for her house and is looking through a collection of wood cut prints given to her grandfather by John Moore. John is a little known NZ artist who lived from 1897-1965. His drawings of native flora and fauna reveal a man with vision ahead of his time. He presents fantails, pohutakawa and mountains simply so that their identifying features are starkly apparent. Images such as these became popular in New Zealand once we started to get over our cultural cringe in the late 80's, early 90's and developed a sense of ourselves as island people of the South Pacific. John's love of the natural world here in Aotearoa, as opposed to that of England which so many of his peers aspired to, emanates a sense of pride and there are over 100 beautiful illustrations which capture the essence of New Zealand. Nicki says that at the end of his life he destroyed the wood blocks, so the book and other remaining prints are all there is. Ka pai, John, these images are strong and beautiful. 

My maunga- Rahotu, Mitre Peak

Measuring Up

John does the calculations for the floor area. He's a surveyor so I'm confident this is going to be ok. It's a week till the builders get back on site and when they do things will move so I need to organise  to avoid pressured decisions. I do some gardening then go to the beach. I get there with no togs, no towel, so I swim in my underwear. Back home I cook dinner for my Christchurch flatmates.

John and his home away from home

Lazy Sunday

The Australian bush fires rage on. America has set Middle East politics alight by assassinating an Iranian general. Both events are far away but both have ramifications for New Zealand. The bush fire smoke chokes our skies, and the US action means our forces in Iraq will need to leave, and highlights the political differences of bigger, more powerful countries. I've just had a week out of cell phone and internet range at Journey's End. No news is one of the benefits of going to Convergence.
Back home in quiet Christchurch, I settle in to my new abode and finish the black currant pick. I head through Linwood to the beach. Parts of the east side of town are neglected. My old friend and uni flatmate, John, comes to help with house jobs. Onsite, we measure up floor areas so I can order timber, and tie up and prune trees along the old driveway to keep them out of danger when the scaffolding goes up. The crushed leaves of the cuttings make the car smell like the Boston Tea Party- aromatic, herbacious, earthy.

The wilds of Linwood

Linwood

Sitting Dougal

I've organised to cat sit for a week. It's close to College Ave and I'm looking forward to being back in the hood. I need to get in the garden and I'd like to touch base with my cat, Pierre. I unpack and repack. Sherry shows me her new house- red doors rock. I drop my stuff, say hi to Dougal then take fish and chips to Lila whose double hip rehab is going well. I swim at a new beach for me, Spencer Park, the hangout of lots of city folk over summer. Easy to get to, easy to pop home from but a break from the city and the routines of daily life. On the way back to my new home, I drop in to feed Pierre and tackle the weeds on the dirt pile. Should have put a tarp on, but the weeds will feed the compost heap.

Dougal

Before

After

Journey's End

Journey's End is the place where Convergence happens. Once a year, over the new year, the family gathers to take stock: what the past year has brought, connections to the past, aspirations for the future. It's a time for processing, reflecting and sharing. We dance, we sing, we talk, we eat, we swim, we squabble, we work out issues. We live together. It's a time for making new relationships and deepening old ones. After seven years I feel part of this family and enjoy watching the children grow, the teens mature and the rest of us progress through the stages of life. Some of the whānau pass on and their presence is remembered, their legacy honoured.
Creatures of habit, we pitch our tents, park our caravans or buses in roughly the same spot. Some of us have an early morning sauna, embracing the magic of starting the day through heat and a cool plunge in the river. There's no meat, no drugs, no alcohol. My body thanks me for the detox. Food prep is shared and cooking together brings us closer. Nothing like chopping onions to get conversation flowing.
This year I connect with a range of people. Some I have met before and some who are new. I strike my tent with regret, knowing how the busyness of everyday life will absorb me but feeling rested and grateful for time out.

Main marquee

Sauna

Plunge pool

John in the kitchen