At home in Pauline's garden

Sunday morning on laptop: two free range eggs and two pieces of toast, one spread with honey from the Bethells Valley. The dog in the bed nestles warmly by my feet. The coffee is Jimmy’s Roast from Riwaka’s Resurgence* Café.

For Jimmy read James Cagney. This is a gangster of a brew. Jimmy’s Roast – “It’s better than a cap in ya ass”  - is shovelling along the thoughts slightly dampened by two days’ solid rain and yesterday’s long drive through Motueka Valley. The moisture enhanced the flaming autumn yellows, reds and oranges but the best may be yet to come.

The old fellow has driven himself to church. He’s not well. Ingredients for a clear vegetable consommé are pootering away in the pressure cooker: included are chopped ginger and quinces. The latter is renowned for healing both ends of the elimination spectrum.

But the quinces add too much weird flavour for a plain broth. He hangs out for pumpkin soup so I finally make some and he feels much better.

Today I cleared the clutter of nearly a month’s travelling from the car and set up the back seats again. I wonder how long I’ll stay. Bringing in some extra stuff from the car may be a sign – I made an extra effort to pretty up my living space and put up photos of Claire and Louise.

The concrete bunny has a measure of dignity.

Johnny-Jump-Ups.

Quinces and honesty.

This year's dahlias.

On Thursday, Dad is being assessed for his ability to stay in his own home. He’s been looking in vain for his medals for the Anzac wreath laying at Riwaka tomorrow and, to his credit, he’s decided it doesn’t matter that he can’t find them. He doesn’t have to prove anything!

Being here is a bit like walking into a ready-made life. I already know all the major players in Dad’s life and am meeting new people nearly every day. Going out with Lily-put is a bit like having a best friend who’s a babe-magnet. On Friday, her fluffiness snared two pleasant people who went out of their way to speak to her/me. One, a local historian who has lived at Riwaka all her life, invited us into her home to meet her niece who has cancer.

At the first Qi gong session, Edith instructed a group of six in the most basic moves to visualise and lure the purest energy (even before it has time to divide into ying and yang) from the void into our minds and bodies. The movements included squats that I have yet to practise.

Early next day (hopefully brimming with qi gong energy) I joined a group heading for Mt Arthur in the Kahurangi National Park. The beech forests just blew my mind. As an overweight and under-exercised ex-smoker of four months’ standing, my breath was in pretty short supply going up over tangled tree roots. My companions were incredibly supportive and insisted on numerous breaks. I chose to take the Nokia phone - lighter than the camera - now I’m wondering where to find the right size of USB cable to download them.

Photos of a purple fungus and my first sighting of a weka will surely come when they are ready.

Pauline’s garden is a pretty good place to be.

This morning.

* For some of its journey, the Riwaka River flows through underground limestone caves, returning to the surface at the Riwaka Resurgence, a deep icy-blue swimming hole. Last year, Claire, her mates and I jumped in.