My camera has been quietly resting for the last few weeks but I have been out and about on a few days in March this year.
Here are my favourite photographs from March. I really like the contrasts between the brown bleached hills and the lush greens seen in the trees and leaves of other photos. Nature showing so much of its best around or near my home.
The big dry on the Belmont Hills
Early morning at home
Silhouette of a Fantail. A fleeting moment of stillness.
Kereru feasting on Karamu berries ( I think)
The stunning work of a small spider.
This ball of feathers is a fantail preening – so little stillness with these delightful birds
Maori (New Zealand’s indigenous peoples) have a concept Turangawaewae.
Tūrangawaewae is one of the most well-known and powerful Māori concepts. Literally tūranga (standing place), waewae (feet), it is often translated as ‘a place to stand’. Tūrangawaewae are places where we feel especially empowered and connected. They are our foundation, our place in the world, our home.
Since the death of both my parents and now more recently the death of my brother, the place of my first months of life has increasingly become my Turangawaewae.
On a recent visit to Greytown, Wairarapa I went down River Road that leads from the house I lived in to the banks of the Waiohine River.
The river was grey-blue and running reasonably fast due to rain falling in the nearby mountains.
The trees on the banks were in autumn colours but the white light and heavy cloud dimmed those on this visit.
My mountain was somewhere amidst these mists.
The rain was falling steadily but it was a time to pause and reflect, to absorb the feelings of connection, and foundation.
A place to draw strength from this land beneath my feet and then continue along my life’s road.
The winter garden holds different views as some autumnal aspects hold on while other aspects are in winter mode.
The Golden Elm shedding its leaves slowly, slowly.
The perky face of a self -sown pansy.
The blood-red branchlets of the near bare Japanese Maple tree. Doesn’t this colour speak of things to come in spring?
A small toadstool that survived for a day.
The wet outdoor garden chair after the hail showers earlier in the week.
I have been playing with light more as I go about with my camera and realising that a slightly different angle on an adjacent object can offer up very different results.
Wherever there is light there is also shadow and in these two photos taken last week in warmer autumn sunshine I was surprised to see that a subtle shift of the camera gave me a very different picture with the shadows defined as strongly as the light.
Here is the first photo I made as I enjoyed the light on this highly patterned ice plant.
And then the subtle shift to this. I love the strong shadows and the quote from Rumi above seemed apt for this revelation.