Singin’ (and dancin’) in the Rain

A rainy Wellington day.

Drenched garden.

Reminds me of our new favourite movie, Singin’ in the Rain.

Just a sprinkle of rain…singin’…

…and dancin’ in the rain, images of my daughter dancing, pretending to tap, and singing.

Gene Kelly has inspired my little girl, I think she’ll take up tap next year 🌱

To look at, Gene reminds me of my father, the rolled up long sleeved shirts, slacks, his dark hair and boyish handsome looks, the cheeky sparkle in his eye…

Isn’t it curious that sometimes all it takes is flicker of recognition to pierce through into locked away memories, causing them to leak and sting. Ouch, why were things the way they were? Quick, lock them up again.

The past is past. Today is today, and today it’s raining!

Singin’ and dancin’ in the rain.

What a glorious feelin’…

I’m laughing at clouds.

The sun’s in my heart.

Come on with the rain…

I’ve a smile on my face.

Just singin’…

Singin’ in the rain…

Dancin’ in the rain…

I’m happy again.

I’m singin’ and dancin’ in the rain!

With joy in my heart.

I’m singin’ and dancin’ in the rain.

The last remnants of autumn.

Our Golden Delicious apple tree.

Autumn and rain. Favourites.

Have a wonderful day!

(This post is dedicated our friend Mark, we hope you’re having a wonderful time in the Big Apple!)

After the storm

We had a wild storm last night, rain and 100km/hr icy winds from the southern alps.

Disjointed sleep.

Scary dreams, on the front line, in a forest on a steep slope, tall dense grasses, violent sounds, guns, explosions, thuds, crackling, whispering stealth through the grass, silent breath, afraid.

Unarmed, hiding, until my spot came under fire, ducked, ran and made terrifying leaps down the slope, pause, check, I’m okay, scramble for cover. Over and over.

Every return from broken sleep, I’d find myself right back there, trying to survive.

Finally the familiar tune of my alarm called me safe into my chilly bedroom.

Morning bought icy cold sun.

We were surprised to see our young celery survived 🌱

After the storm, driving to work, first glimpse of the water, framed by the pohutukawa trees at the end of the road, was shimmering gold from the morning sun.

Out from beneath the pohutukawa trees to the shoreline, huge God rays filled the sky, a freight ship vivid blue in the light. The size of the clouds and the expansive God rays made the boat appear huge and close.

A silver ribbon of light glistened along the coastline on the other side of the bay.

High tide, no pebbly beach, just water lapping the road. Evidence of the waves lapping over the road during the night, pools of water, debris and sand. Scary for the houses on the beach front to have the waves so close to their front door, grateful that our cottage is nestled safe within the village.

Always sad to turn away from the water, final glimpse back at the rays, the glistening silver ribbon, the golden pathway to the sun. Focus turned to work, up over the hill.

Winter is here?

Our most recent harvest 🌱

Have a wonderful day!


It’s raining.

The top of NZ is flooding.

Not where we are, thank goodness, no swollen rivers, or scary currents with unknown debris lurking under dirty churned up water, no roads hidden under brown water with unseen obstacles.

Here we have gentle comforting rain, a cool freshness.

I know first hand the fierceness of flood water, indiscriminate, powerful, unforgiving.

On the mountain we had two creeks to cross to get home, the big creek and the little creek, often they would flood.

One evening, when we were young children, we returned home, on the cusp of darkness, to find the big creek swollen and raging.

Our family car was an ex army long wheel base Landrover. Perfect for contending with the pot holed gravel roads, rocky uneven creek crossings, rough, often soggy, tracks, climbing the long slippery steep inclines to our house…and forging creeks turned into turbulent powerful churning rivers?

The back of the Landrover made cosy for the children. The cold, standard issue, army metal seats covered with a panel of wood and a foam mattress topped with cosy sheepskins, blankets and pillows.

Our step father put his foot on the brake, we did too when the headlights revealed our big creek, no longer recognisable, swollen up to the trees, dirty brown, branches and other debris speeding by, the powerful current flattening everything in its path.

Home on the other side.

If we didn’t need to cross it, this post would read differently, to me there is something fascinating and hypnotising about flood water, wild and fierce! Captivating.

I recall times when we were flooded in I’d don a rain jacket and gumboots and wander down the track to the creeks. Safely observing. I love. But crossing?

Let me take you back to that night.

Hushed tones in the front seats undiscernable over the roar of the charging water.

Us children, the four of us, peered from amongst the blankets and sheepskins. It’s too high, it will go over the bonnet. Eyes bright.

Our step father, wd40 and hessian bag in hand, opened the bonnet, his head disappeared behind it, as did the fierce churning water, momentary relief like in a scary part of a movie when you cover your eyes, bang, the bonnet back in place, the raging river still there. Higher? Angrier?

Wd40 applied and hessian bag in place our step father slid back into the drivers seat.

An exchanged look in the front seat.

Not a whisper of air released from a single lung in that car.

Rev, rev, forward into the raging river, steady and firm, the water pushed against us and rushed over the bonnet. Eyes wide. Ploughing through, moving forward, the water wanting to push us sideways but strong arms keep us directed toward the distant track on the other side.

Suddenly the vehicle stopped, the engine dead.

Nobody spoke. We could feel the vehicle being pushed sideways. We were in the middle, the fiercest, strongest part, the water seemed angrier at having this new obstacle In its way, determined to go through us, thudding angrily at the drivers side window.

Nobody moved, nobody breathed.

Our step father pushed the ignition button. It started!!! Can you believe it? A miracle? Careful on the accelerator, we moved forward out of the main current, the water happy to see us get out of the way, roared past. An eternity later (seconds) we reached the track on the other side.

Six people, one collective breath, like the car was a giant animal, safe now from a predator.

Do I remember my bed being especially cosy, safe and warm that night?

Have a wonderful day!



Happy rain soaked garden.

Back in 2005 one of my girlfriend’s married a Scotsman and it was he who introduced me to this Scottish proverb:

What is for you won’t go by you. 

So often these words have helped me let go and be rest assured that all is as it should be.

Today’s harvest 🌱

Have a wonderful day!