Leaving the land

Leaving the land

    The land was on a grazed hillside, that was struggling to regenerate. When we first saw the bach, a coarse bramble arched across the doorway, and the interior smelt of dead ants. From the deck we saw tall bracken that had sprouted from the bare earth....

When the rain falls

  As the rain fell steadily, soaking the earth, I watched the season tilt towards winter and thought of Irihapeti.   Twenty years earlier, we sat in her Wellington garden, talking of grief and how it so often accompanies the midlife crossing.  She was...