Life is deliciously simple at the bach. Even though some tasks take longer, time stretches a long hand as we relax into another week of holiday.
For water, we depend on rain to fill the tank. The toilet is a long-drop in the trees. Music comes from records played on a turntable. A shower is a gentle experience, with a gravity-fed showerhead down on the lower level. The garden must be hand-watered with buckets since there is no water pressure for a hose.
To sweep the gravel paths, I find that the best possible broom is a head of manuka twigs. This of course is how brooms were invented, and I think of my ancestors thousands of years ago picking up just such a bushy branch. This little broom lifts the leaves off the path and steps without taking the gravel with it: perfect.
Little Mira makes her own toys, playing with leaves, or riding in a cardboard box which is a boat one day, a train the next, and today, a fire truck. She has now made her own helicopter by pushing a match stick through a hole in a pohutukawa leaf.
As soon as the sun goes down we close the windows and doors that don’t have screens, in order to protect against the mosquitoes.
Such simplicity. And so the days pass by in that lazy rhythm which is summer’s own.