This is my town at its best. The Winter can be bleak and the Summer will sometimes decide not to show up at all; but Spring and Autumn are reliably lovely.
The sun is strong and clear but not too hot. There are sunrises timed so they can be viewed at leisure. The deciduous trees are gaudy and shameless. Winds are light and, on. my side of the harbour anyway, afternoons are long.
We have a bird feeder on the front lawn and I go and sit on a rock in a place close enough to see it but far enough away that I am perceived as mostly harmless. The trees are full of tūī and korimako, looking to top up the nectar, fruit and insects they eat at this time of year with a little junk food sugar water. The finches descend on the seed and fruit. The tauhou eat whatever the big guys leave and the piwakawaka flit about on the off chance that someone has disturbed an insect or two.
Three pairs of tūī are squabbling over territory
and a solitary tauhou patrols his turf with a terrifying display of wing waggling.
Korimako are quick and bright
The leaves die with an inspirational measure of elegance and grace.
If I sit still for long enough and keep quiet enough the chatter in my head will fade into an innocuous background hum. My eyes will clear. I will see the flow of the world and know that I am part of it.
