Monday, August 21, 2017
Pleasures of August
By the time you get to mid August, winter in Wellington really starts to drag. It's cold, it seems to rain incessantly and the ground is a muddy mossy sponge under filthy grey skies. The first picture taken on the new over bridge at Manor Park on the Hutt line sums it up, monotone skies and single digit temperatures. (6 deg C at 10:00am)
But at the bottom of the garden, hope springs eternal. The camellias have detected the changing light and brought forth their perfect buds. I captured this one on Sunday morning, while hanging out washing between the rain showers.
But at the bottom of the garden, hope springs eternal. The camellias have detected the changing light and brought forth their perfect buds. I captured this one on Sunday morning, while hanging out washing between the rain showers.
Wednesday, August 16, 2017
Café Brothers
To celebrate Granddad's 70th birthday, and the July school holidays we took a trip to Christchurch in the middle of July. On the Monday took time to visit the central city. After staying away for so long due to the post earthquake rebuild it was like being tourists in a foreign city as so much had changed. But not quite as every so often we'd come across something familiar that anchored the new landscapes. One of these anchors was New Regent street, where we got off the city tram and found a cosy café to get away from the biting southerly and leaden overcast. It was a Vietnamese-French café and Willy latched onto the jar of Macrons, a blue one of course. Here he is with his big brother, both still wrapped against the cold.
To celebrate Granddad's 70th birthday, and the July school holidays we took a trip to Christchurch in the middle of July. On the Monday took time to visit the central city. After staying away for so long due to the post earthquake rebuild it was like being tourists in a foreign city as so much had changed. But not quite as every so often we'd come across something familiar that anchored the new landscapes. One of these anchors was New Regent street, where we got off the city tram and found a cosy café to get away from the biting southerly and leaden overcast. It was a Vietnamese-French café and Willy latched onto the jar of Macrons, a blue one of course. Here he is with his big brother, both still wrapped against the cold.
