it seems a little surreal that
as I stand here ironing creases out of cotton shirts
my sister is high above the clouds 
being propelled at high speed towards new zealand

wedding small stone for fiona & kaspa

despite the forecast being for stormy weather
most of auckland is enjoying glorious winter sunshine:
may the sun cast its blessings on you
today and every day

somewhere at the edge of my dream a voice calls out 'Mommy'
sleepily I call back,
and a few minutes later a warm body climbs in next to me

an orange and some chocolate chips
thrown in with the usual muffin makings
becomes a plate of half time fuel for the kids' street hockey game

a woman - grey hair, bright pink crocs and a red cardigan -
raking fresh grass cuttings into a neat pile,
looks up and greets me with a friendly smile

sounds while walking

persistent yapping of a distant dog
low drone of a lawnmower
constant twittering of birds
steady tread of shoes on tarmac
soft smooth in breath
long slow out breath
gradual crescendo of approaching car
and the ever present voice in my head

first day of school

new pink-spotted school bag +
new black shoes and navy socks +
big sister's hand-me-down uniform =
one excited little sister

a single clear teardrop forms at the corner of her right eye
I hug her, hoping that somehow it will help

blue-tailed kingfisher perched on a black power line
grey skies above, green fields below

in the morning sun

an eerie mist rises from the wooden fence,
waterlogged after yesterday's rain

her leg, heavy with sleep, hangs down the side of the bed
I lift it gently back under the duvet and lean in to kiss her soft cheek

winter morning

the cold creeps into my bones and seems to freeze me from the inside out
it will be 10am before I thaw

perfect orange sphere fits neatly in the palm of my hand
glossy dimpled rind encases all that sweet citrus nectar

.

I wake early and look into the darkness for a sign of dawn
the pillow is soft beneath my head,
my body snug in its cocoon of warmth

wake up

for a few seconds I turn off the hot water
and allow icy needles to shower down my back

sunday morning

it is only me out walking
and the twittering birds that dart from fence post to tree to telephone wire

the coffee filter utters a throaty gurgling sound
steam rises from the pot
and a fresh sweet aroma wafts down the passage

the house is quiet;
all I hear is the occasional click of the mouse, the tap of the keyboard, the hum of the fridge
outside a bird squawks an early morning call

a percussion of raindrops on tin muffles the usual morning chorus

through the window I catch a glimpse of dawn,
the eastern sky is pink above a silhouette of trees
perhaps it will rain today.

winter sunshine burns through mist
revealing a crisp clear morning

a towel lies in a lumpy heap of dampness on the bedroom floor

a slinky black cat stalks through a green field of white sheep

another wet school holiday day...
we pass the time indoors playing board games, drawing pictures,
keeping dry

a chestnut horse, a pinto pony and three young riders
on a misty afternoon walk around the farm;
we pass a big black cow who stops and stares

shiny blue foil wrapping encloses a hollow chocolate egg
sweet creaminess lingers on my tongue

it's funny how rearranging the furniture
can give one a whole new lease on life

the neighbourhood kids have formed two teams
and are playing soccer on our small green lawn;
excited cheers erupt as a goal is scored

white waterfall gushes over rocks
under a bridge
through the green ferned valley towards the dam

awake now and I'm 44
two blonde heads snuggled in beside me
and Glenn only half awake on his pillow
I'm happy

a swarm of cyclists
wheels buzzing
psychedelic lycra passes in a blur

ten toe nails freshly painted in vibrant glossy red
happy feet

a silvery mist has descended overnight
the early chatter of birds pierces the haze

from the window of the car I see
a long line of black and white cows
tramping two by two over a green hill

a wintery wind wraps itself around my neck
and plays with my hair

red speckled ribbon folds into a delicate coil
beneath my peeled apple

tiny raindrops cling to the washing line
like little beads reflecting the morning light

earl grey tea cake doesn't turn out quite like the picture
but still tastes good with our morning cup of tea

a loud knock at the door;
a man in a bright orange vest asks if he can inspect the stormwater drainage around our house
he has a thin black moustache which curls up neatly at each end

for the first ten minutes of my yoga practice
I hear Shelby scratching at the door, miaowing,
and then she stops;
afterwards I open the door and
there she is
waiting

my blurry morning eyes open to a dazzling light
beaming through the skylight
slowly my vision clears:
it is a perfect crescent moon

my unmade bed
its sheets still warm, the pillows squished,
invites me to crawl back in
I do, even though it's 7.10am and Tuesday is waiting

country market

a sliver of chocolate and ginger fudge
the aroma of freshly brewed coffee
fresh vegetables in a rainbow display
muddy grass beneath my jandalled feet
the happy strum of ukeleles
a feast for all five senses

the three of us huddle under the wide umbrella
but diagonal rainfall soaks our shoes, knees, shoulders;
in the dry comfort of the car
we sit for a while in our damp clothes
and watch raindrops race down the windscreen

fingers hit keys
black words appear on bright screen
I hit backspace to remove them
feeling uninspired and stuck
nothing flows

I drift in and out of sleep aware of a steady downpour
in the morning the world is clean and new and bright
grateful for the blessing of rain

gentle rain falling on a tin roof
why is it such a strange happy comforting sort of a sound?
I don't know but I love it

the full moon is obscured by cloud cover
I keep looking to see if it appears
and notice a bright glow,
like a lamp behind a curtain

about nineteen minutes into my walk
I am knocked over by a sweet fragrance
something like jasmine
but I can't see where it's coming from

an assembly of school children
- their cheerful singing fills the hall
tears gather at the rim of my eyes
goosebumps prickle my skin

half way home from lunch I realise I have left my mobile behind
and I spend the rest of the afternoon thinking life was so much simpler
before cell phones

I fill my basket with:
feijoas and fresh dates,
new season apples, nectarines and nashi,
a bag of brightly coloured capsicums,
and three sweetcorn cobs

snack

a bright red new season Royal Gala apple
sliced into sweet and crunchy segments

the washing hangs in a neat rainbow of colour
soaking up warm rays of March sunshine

red and white roses held together by a green ribbon
wrapped in black satin backed paper:
celebrating nine years of marriage

clumps of pink lilies scattered across a green field
like a discarded bouquet from yesterday's March wedding

through the window I can see
green bushes swaying in an afternoon breeze,
clouds gathering at the edge of a blue sky,
autumn sunlight casting shadow patterns across the back lawn

jam

a snake of cars inches slowly ahead of me as far as I can see
I give up all hope of reaching my class on time

the sky is bluer today, the sunlight brighter
I am seeing with new eyes and everything is becoming clearer

autumn blows in on a cold southerly breeze
summer leaves silently without fanfare or farewell

breakfast

an oaty waffle still warm from the waffle iron;
a drizzle of maple syrup
over sliced banana
topped with a dollop of cream

after devouring a tin of tuna for breakfast
Shelby sits next to her empty bowl hoping for a mid morning snack

 a blanket of grey cloud hovers over Friday
with not a breath of wind to blow it away

the scrunched-up wrapper from a snack bar lies
discarded on the lounge floor
I stifle my irritation and reach down to pick it up

red light up ahead
I prepare to stop
it miraculously changes to green and
I keep going

12.51pm

I light a candle and
for two minutes
pray for the people of Christchurch
and thank God for the steady ground on which I walk

faith

I turn on the tap
believing that clean cold water will pour forth
It does

quake

no warning
no time for preparation or evacuation
in the bustle of lunch hour the city centre shakes
bringing a cathedral to its knees

like tinnitus

the song of cicadas slices through the warm summer air
a constant ringing in my ears

February clings to me in a hot sweaty embrace

I stand in the kitchen
grating onion
tears pour down my face
stored up from all the times
I never cried

a fly settles on my arm
tickling my bare skin
I shake it off
but in seconds it's back

on the cob

neat rows of sweet yellow corn
like little pockets of sunshine
delicious
and nutritious

freedom

blue checked shirt
denim shorts
greying hair
flying along on a scooter powered by his right leg
it's fun to be forty something

a colony of breeding gannets
nest on a large slab of naked rock
waves crashing
wind circling
fluffy babies huddle close to their mothers
patiently
waiting to
fly

back to school day
I fumble through the morning routine
we get there just on time
a fresh start
I wave goodbye to my little girl
who has grown up
so
much

welcome

I set this blog up last year in anticipation of our plans to build a new home. I planned to journal the process from start to finish! At this stage, we haven't quite found the right piece of land to build on, so the project is on hold for the time being.

In the meantime, I have been writing small stones on my soul sisters blog as part of Fiona Robyn's International Small Stones Writing Month in January 2011.

I so enjoyed this project that I've decided to continue writing small stones - and this blog will be where I post them - not necessarily daily, but definitely a few times each week.

Writing stones helps me to be present, pay attention and nurture joy and gratitude for the life I am living. It brings me home to myself. So I decided 'home sweet home' would be an appropriate place to record these images made of words.

Please say 'Hello!' if you visit - it will be great to meet you!