gingko, Lambton Quay (05 June 2015)
After a simple lunch of donburi chicken from Wasabi Sushi in the James Cook Arcade, I returned to Lambton Quay and found myself standing under a canopy of gingko gold.
The photograph below – taken a little further down the street – is exactly thirteen months old. Click on it for a look at the piece I posted on 08 May 2014.
autumn reflection (05 May 2014)
The round moon rises,
rises above the high black
hill. Clouds await her.
(Monday 04 May 2015)
beetroot? avocado? No
comfort in autumn.
Chill winds and showers
call for a second cup of
hot black espresso.
(Thursday 19 March 2015)
rain, this morning’s air is sweet.
My neighbours have a
fragrant tree … and no, I don’t
know its botanical name.
(08 March 2015)
Tanka consist of five units (often treated as separate lines when romanized or translated) usually with the following pattern of on: 5-7-5-7-7.
The 5-7-5 is called the kami-no-ku (上の句 “upper phrase”), and the 7-7 is called the shimo-no-ku (下の句 “lower phrase”). (Wikipedia)
roughed-up road (16 January 2015)
“Weather conditions are optimal for road works at this time of year,” wrote Katie Chapman in the Dominion Post on 10 January 2015, “with a host of road resurfacing projects planned this month [January]. Boulcott St had been the focus this week with work on a section of Lambton Quay due to begin this weekend.”
The piece of “roughed-up road” shown here was photographed on Lambton Quay, Wellington, on 16 January.
wing-flutter, then cough, chirp, chime –
The pohutukawa trees along the terraces near where I live have begun to flower. The tui, having gorged themselves on the golden kōwhai, are now beginning to sip the honeyed paradise afforded by New Zealand’s Christmas tree. Tradition has it that the earlier the crimson blossoms appear, the better the summer we can anticipate.
black lace (01 August 2014)
A preoccupation with the scantily adorned winter forms of trees has me discovering afresh their intricate beauty.
winter, day one (01 June 2014)
Standing at a pedestrian crossing on Cambridge Terrace (Wellington) this morning, waiting for the green man. Glancing up at the blue sky. Is that something leaping about in my shoulder bag?
“It’ll only take a moment.” (Did I hear a voice?)
“Okay then … but be quick.”
Out comes the camera, set to auto.
Can’t beat Wellington on a good day … even in winter.
rainy day in Cuba (08 August 2011)
A writer – and, I believe, generally all persons – must think that whatever happens to him or her is a resource. All things have been given to us for a purpose, and an artist must feel this more intensely. All that happens to us, including our humiliations, our misfortunes, our embarrassments, all is given to us as raw material, as clay, so that we may shape our art. (Jorge Luis Borges)
The sinews and ligaments of this post – its interconnections, if you prefer – are somewhat tenuous. (Our ability to stay alive is tenuous.) There is no great need for the reader to make any real effort to fathom any of it.
Jorge Luis Borges: an Argentine writer of (among other things) short stories “interconnected by common themes such as dreams, labyrinths, libraries, mirrors, animals, fictional writers, philosophy, religion and God.” (Wikipedia: Jorge Luis Borges)
According to Bella Jozef, his work embraces the “character of unreality in all literature”. (Wikipedia: Jorge Luis Borges)
The image was shot in Cuba Mall, Wellington, in the last month of winter 2011. The word “petrichor” refers to the smell of rain on dry ground. The word derives from two Greek words: “petra” = stone; “ichor” = the blood of gods and goddesses (from a video titled 48 things you didn’t know had names on mentafloss.com).