Remembering . .

The Wall of Remembrance for all of the soldiers killed in every war since the Boer war in South Africa - New Zealanders always went to war if the British Empire were involved - not now thank goodness. We have no fighting forces overseas, only peace-keeping companies - we are nucleur free as well - this little country down here at the end of the world has mighty principles and sticks by them !!

Ellena and I always place a poppy at the cenetaph on ANZAC day in remembrance of my Grandfather who fought in WW1. He was only 19yrs old, had never been out of NZ and went off on a great adventure ! He was part of the mounted rifles, landing in Egypt, was wounded and sent home quite early on, thank goodness.

Easter Sunset at Papamoa.

Norfolk Island Pine trees, always such sentinals on the coast line - many were planted over a hundred years ago as a sign of land for the early ships, before radar etc. I like their symetrical shapes.

The breakers were rolling in gently . .

Sunset looking down the beach towards Mt Manganui, one or two fishermen and groups of people walking were the only signs of life, even the seagulls had gone to roost where ever they roost - or do they sleep bobbing about on the waves ?

Papamoa is a seaside resort town on the East coast of NZ, much tamer then the West coast where I go often. I now have 2 families living here, so will be spending more time over this way.

Headstones and Epitaphs .

Afew weeks ago I joined a group of people here in Hamilton on an interesting and informative stroll through our cities`s oldest cemetary - Hamilton East. I love history and I believe a town`s cemetary is a very good barometer of it`s history. I really liked this headstone above, the hands clasped together was such a loving gesture, the grave itself had a small pot of rosemary ( for remembrance) left on it . .

The picture above is of quite a wealthy looking grave site, the family being one of the forefathers of the town - being able to afford this sort of memorial was not common back then. Hamilton or Kirikiriroa as it was known before the English arrived in 1864, was a Maori kianga (village) with a number of different pa sites along the river bank, the English arrived and built a redoubt for the millitary.

Linda, the historian who guided our tour, standing beside the earliest grave found and on record, it is of a young man who drowned in the Waikato river 1864 - it is very hard to read and the fact that it is still standing upright astounded me, stronger looking headstones had collapsed over time. Reading many of the headstones I discovered that many people had died of drowning before the first bridge was built to unify the east and west sides of the town.

I spent 2 hours just wandering around after the tour had finished, it is a peaceful place with very few visitors now - just me and the birds and the odd rabbit or 2 .

Sunset at Raglan . .

FISHING BOAT HOME AGAIN . .

SUNSET ON RAGLAN HARBOUR

Last Sunday night Ellena and I had dinner with my eldest daughter, Meg and my grandaughter, Lia, out at Raglan where they live. This gorgeous little sea-side town is about a 40 min drive from my place, meandering through and over hills covered either with native bush or sheep ! It is a lovely drive and I never tire of it.

We brought fish and chips from a shop on the wharf, very popular with the locals and fish so fresh it was jumping, then back to Meg and Lia`s for dinner out of the newspaper wrapping - don`t forget the watties !

Lia May - my gorgeous girl ..

Lia is my first Grandchild - her mother is my eldest daughter, Meg, her dad Jamie is not with them now but he does play a big part in Lia`s life which I am thankful for.
There is something special about the first grandchild, I know cause I was my beloved Grandmother`s first, we shared a very special relationship, without her I would not have experienced the kind of love a mother should give.

Lia and I share a love of the the bush, beach and my bees ! The picture above was taken in the Waipoua forest in Jan, Lia is standing on the rails that surround the magnificent kauri tree, Tane Mahuta. This 2000 yr old native NZ tree is one of the very few old kauri left, thousands of acres of kauri forest were destroyed by the early settlers for buildings and ships masts.

Lia is 12 now and in her last year before High School, she will be going to Sacred Heart Girls College here in Hamilton, the same college her mum and aunties went to ..

My Thought for Today ..

What will the world hold for my wee grandson sleeping so peacefully in his hammock ? I just hope the world listens to the wise ones and heeds their warnings, I want my grandchildren to know the beauty of nature as I do - plant trees everyone and nuture your children and grandbabies - teach them well ...

When the last bee died,

nobody noticed. Nobody put on black

or made a dirge for the death

of honey. Nobody wrote an elegy

to apricotes, no one mourned for cherries.

When the last bee died,

everyone was busy. They had things to do,

drove straight to work each morning,

stright back home each night.The roads

all seriously hummed.Besides,

the pantries were still packed

with cans of fruit cocktails in heavy syrup,

deep deep freezers full

of concentrated grape and orange juice,

stores stocked with artificial flavouring.

When the last bee died, nobody cried

for burdock, yarrow and wild delphinium.

Now and again a child would ask for

dandelions, quickly shushed: that pest !

And everyone is fine. The children healthy,

raddish-cheeked.They play she loves me/not

with savoy cabbage leaves, enjoy the telling

of the great mythes, peach and peony.

no one believes in apples anymore.

End Notes for a Small History by Betty Lies

As I sit here on a hot summer day with thousands of cicada yelling out their mating songs,and a slight breeze ruffling the leaves on the trees in my garden, I suddenly become very aware of how lucky I am to live where I live - no fighting and death, warmth, food and a roof over my head. The poem above I feel is very important for all to heed, not only bees, but so many of our insects,plants and animals are loosing their lives to greedy human activities. Without bees to pollinate so many of our food plants, life will be very different and boring to say the least - 3/4 of the food we eat is pollinated by the honey bee Apis melliera.

Some of you may know I have another blog which is my diary really of my beekeeping adventures, it is a hobby I really enjoy, the honey being a bonus. To see and hear my garden, and the neighbours, buzzing with bees, leaves me with such a sense of wonderment - I am doing my small part for my environment.

New Zealand has always been percieved as `clean and green`, but we are dismally failing to uphold these ideals - once the Waikato river is able to be swum in again, there is no rubbish on our beautiful beaches or roadsides and NO more native tree milling, then I will believe our Govt is doing as much as it can to fix the problems.

My Country, My Heart . . .

Aotearoa, The Land of the Long White Cloud, or as it is known through - out the world, New Zealand, is my land - I am drawn to her every fibre . . I know I can never live away from these shores for long before needing to come home.
Maybe it is something to do with the fact that we are 2 larger and afew small islands parked way down at the bottom of the Pacific ocean, one of the last places to be discovered by the western world, with totally amazing flora and fauna that has stayed the same for thousands of years.

Forgive me for rambling, but I feel a connection to this place that seems to get deeper as I get older, I feel drawn to my birthplace - does anyone else feel that ? - or am I a real weirdo as my children secretly think ?
We, as a nation, tend not to express our emotions, a left-over from the Victorian era that most of our ancestors immigrated in. My grandmother, who was born here, referred to England as `home` until she died. We have a developed a certain culture of our own, only in the last 50 years , so as you can imagine, the old ways still rear their puritain heads sometimes. Anyone waxing lyrical about anything is mocked, the `tall poppy syndrom` - never mind, at least my children will always beable to say their mother was never boring, she did her best to always make life interesting and fun !!